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“What do you think I’ve been doing to help you keep an eye on the soldiers?”

“Then you’ve been lucky. I’ve been feeling restless, as if my skills are fading away with every moment I remain on a bench because of this supposed broken leg.” He gave Philip a worried look. “What if it’s the adventure I need? I never thought I’d marry. Perhaps I won’t be good at being a husband, leading a life of leadership while others do the physical work that I’ve always enjoyed.”

“I’ve heard of many a man who worried about such things. They made it work.”

“How?”

“Maybe getting into their wives’ beds was the true challenge?”

Philip chuckled to himself, but John couldn’t see the humor. What if when he saw Lady Elizabeth, he wasn’t as attracted to her as he was to her maid?

Eleven

Elizabeth spent the night wrapped in a blanket in front of the kitchen hearth, wearing a gown from Adalia, feeling like she would never be warm again. She’d cried so much that her eyes were raw and fuzzy, and her brain seemed to be merely floating. She’d made it through mass, keeping her head down in prayer, having no idea if Sir John—Lord Russell was even in the chapel. She hadn’t even asked the true name of his friend, who’d seen her run by crying last night.

But now she could finally go to see Anne. She held a tray in her shaking hands, realizing she hadn’t even broken her own fast. Food didn’t seem to matter this morn. The soldiers stepped aside for her, and she sighed in relief and practically ran up the tower stairs.

Anne must have heard her, because she flung open the door to the solar. Elizabeth slid the tray onto the table, then turned and threw her arms around her friend. She wouldn’t have thought she had any more tears, but she found herself crying again.

“’Tis all right,” Anne said, patting her back. “The soldiers told me you were forbidden to bring me food for a day. Milburn discovered the letter?”

Elizabeth could only nod and hold her tighter. “You—you were not too hungry?”

“Nay, although another basket did not come, the first had enough to keep me fed for the day. It was you I was concerned about. I am an heiress,” she said sarcastically, “so he could hardly punish me too severely. But you⁠—”

Elizabeth backed away, accepting a handkerchief to mop her face and blow her nose. “I was not beaten, or even denied food.” She related how Milburn had caught her.

“What did he do to you? Surely it had to be something. Come sit down and tell me. You look pale as a ghost. Have you eaten yet this morn?”

Elizabeth gave a shaky laugh and shook her head. “Food is unappetizing today,” she said, sitting down on a cushioned chair before the bare hearth.

Anne sat in the other one and took her hand. “So tell me.”

“He obviously wants to keep me away from you, so he assigned me to act as Sir John’s clerk.”

“Ah, Sir John, the one who looks at you with interest,” Anne said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Elizabeth sighed, her chest aching from crying. “I discovered yesterday that he’s not who he said he was.”

Anne straightened in surprise. “He’s not Sir John, a bailiff?”

“Nay,” she whispered. “He’s John, Lord Russell, my betrothed.”

Anne’s mouth fell open. “Are you certain?”

“He says he has the ring,” she answered dully, “although as a maid, I could not demand to see it. He has William’s eyes and Robert’s hair.”

“Well, I…I know not what to say. This is a good thing, is it not? You’ve been telling him our problems.”

“Well it might have been all right,” Elizabeth said, her voice rising, “if he hadn’t kissed me yesterday, hours before telling me the truth!”

“Oh my,” she breathed. Tugging on Elizabeth’s hand, she said, “Upstairs.”

Elizabeth followed dispiritedly and allowed Anne to close the door behind her.

Anne looked at her with worry as she guided her to another chair. “But he likes you; surely that is a good thing between two people who are going to marry.”

“Do you not understand?” Elizabeth cried. “He kissed me, the maid, knowing that I was not his betrothed, knowing that he was lying to me.”