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“Before. It was my father’s suggestion that I learn a trade, and I always had a good head for numbers. I was a small, awkward child, and it did not look as if I would ever make a useful knight. So I followed our bailiffs from estate to estate, learning.”
“And you were content in your father’s plan?”
He grinned at her. “Nay, I was furious. But it was better than the priesthood, which I refused outright. I knew I would do well as a knight, and it angered me that he could not see that I would grow into my body. But my brother had been active and good at everything almost from the moment he was born.”
“So it was difficult to follow him.”
“Difficult, but also the challenge I needed, mayhap. I learned about account books and farming methods, enough to know if we were being cheated by our own bailiff. But then I took up a sword.”
“And you were good at it.”
He arched a brow. “It is so easy for you to believe that of me?”
She eyed the width of his shoulders and blushed. “You simply look…like you carry a sword well.”
“But I didn’t then. Even a blunted training sword was too unwieldy for me.” He sighed. “My father despaired, and then he died before I could prove to him that I would succeed.”
“But you proved it to your brother.”
“Nay, not even that. He had little interest in my achievements. And though I earned knighthood, it is expensive to keep armor and a well trained horse for combat.”
The lack of money had stopped his dreams, she realized, finding herself feeling sorry for him.
“It is lucky my father insisted on my learning a trade,” he added.
“Mine did, too,” she said, speaking as Anne.
“And you succeeded.”
“I’m going to marry well—then I will have succeeded.”
“And who does a maid aspire to marry?”
She opened her mouth, but found herself hesitating. “A maid aspires to marry a yeoman, a man with his own property, and the chance to rise higher.”
“That is quite the aspiration.”
She glanced at him quickly, wondering if he was teasing her, but he was not. “And who does a bailiff aspire to marry?”
She held her breath, hoping he would not say, “a maid.”
He laughed. “I am a poor bailiff. Until I earn enough wages to deserve a bride, I fear I am destined to remain a lonely man.”
“I cannot imagine a man such as you is ever lonely,” she said dryly, thinking of her own quick attraction to him.
“A man such as me?” he echoed, smiling.
She cleared her throat and stared at the road again. Thankfully, the small village of Hillesley was coming into sight on the edge of a low hill. “A man who flirts with every maid he meets. Surely some woman eventually agrees to be the recipient.”
“Have you seen me flirting with every maid I meet?” he asked with interest. “Are my movements of such interest to you?”
She felt flustered and out of her element. Men did not treat her so familiarly, and she could easily fall under the spell of this…flirting. “I just assumed you flirted with every maid, Sir John, since you flirt with me.”
“And think you that I don’t find you worthy of all my attention?”
She frowned at him. “I don’t know what to think about your motivations. We’re here.”
He looked at her, his blue eyes probing, but then he pulled on the reins and brought the cart to a halt near a small village green. A well dominated the center, and several sheep and cows grazed nearby. Stone buildings clustered where the crossroads met, and off in the distance, Hillesley Manor, made of yellow Cotswold stone, sat on a hill. She wondered if Master Wilden, the ill bailiff, was being cared for there.
