Lord Of The Manor. Shari Anton

chided. “Richard, if you wish to better your holdings, you had best make yourself known to at least a few of the heiresses. Mayhap one will take a liking to your ugly face and ask for you!”

      Richard smiled. “Mayhap I should let you choose for me. Judging from your notes on the list, you have studied all of their qualities, from fairness of face to the coin they bring.”

      “Ha! And have you blame me if her temperament is sour? Nay, brother, choose for yourself.”

      Richard chuckled, then asked, “Did you happen to tell Henry of Gerard’s absence.”

      “Aye.” Stephen sighed. “Another reason to delay asking for favors today. Henry accepted my explanation with little grace. He says he understands, but ’twas quite clear he is displeased.”

      An unhappy Henry was also a dangerous Henry. Today was not the day to begin an attempt to heal the rift between Gerard and the king, a cause near to Richard’s heart. He disliked seeing the two men at odds with each other when they had been such great companions. For now, ’twas best to stay out of the king’s sight and beyond his reach until his spirits lightened.

      Richard decided he’d had enough of noblewatching for the day. “I am off for the abbey. Do try to stay out of trouble.”

      Stephen raised an eyebrow. “The abbey? Whatever for?”

      “Mayhap I wish to confess my sins,” Richard suggested.

      “Hardly likely.” Stephen knew him too well.

      “I go to visit the woman and boy who traveled with us. I wish to see if they are well cared for.”

      Stephen crossed his arms. “How can they be less than well cared for in Westminster Abbey? This is the third time you have mentioned this woman since you arrived yesterday. I begin to suspect that something happened between the two of you during your journey.”

      “Nothing happened.”

      ’Twas a small lie he told. In truth, nothing had happened beyond her riding in the wagon and a few, brief moments of conversation. That something might have happened if he’d given in to the attraction that simmered whenever he looked at Lucinda was none of Stephen’s affair.

      Stephen studied Richard for several moments before saying, “If you wish to bring the woman to Wilmont’s chambers to warm your bed while we are here, I have no objection.”

      Richard felt a twinge of ire rise. “Not that I intend to do so, Stephen, but should I invite a woman to share my furs, I will not seek your permission!”

      Stephen didn’t comment. Someone or something near the door had captured his attention.

      A woman. She stood inside the door, glancing about the hall as if confused, almost frightened of entering. Lucinda.

      Her simple gown of green wool hugged her curves as softly and becomingly as silk. Under a sheer white veil, held in place by a silver circlet, her raven hair shimmered almost blue in the light of a nearby torch.

      She held herself erect and poised. One had to look into her eyes to see her anxiety. She might be noble, but perhaps not accustomed to attending court. Mayhap he could ease her anxiety. Perhaps he could explain the protocol or help her find whatever or whomever she looked for.

      Stephen said angrily, “Mayhap you should stay awhile, Richard. I fear we are about to witness some excitement. ’Tis good that Gerard is not here. He would roar the arches down.”

      “Why is that?”

      “The woman in the green gown, coming into the hall. Do you recognize her?”

      He’d just spent the past two days in Lucinda’s company and had thought of her far too often since. Was thinking far too much of her now. But, alerted by Stephen’s tone, Richard held his counsel.

      “Should I know her?”

      “Aye, I believe you should. I saw her only the once, and do not remember her name, but I believe she is the widow of Basil of Northbryre.”

      The kick to Richard’s gut threatened to send bile up his throat. Richard swallowed hard. Hellfire! Was it possible he’d been strongly attracted to the widow of Wilmont’s worst enemy?

      “Lucinda.” He supplied her name to Stephen. This time, the sound of it didn’t seem musical.

      Stephen nodded. “That is it. I heard that she and her son had escaped to Basil’s lands in Normandy. I wonder what brings her back after all this time?”

      Richard didn’t care. He was too busy wondering where he should have known her from, if they had met before. Wondering how his character could be so flawed that he’d wished to couple with a woman who’d rutted with Basil of Northbryre.

      On the road, if he’d known. who she was, he’d have let the mule run off with Philip, let Lucinda cope on her own.

      She took a small step forward, then another. She didn’t limp. Had she faked the injury to her ankle? Had she laughed behind her hand at his offer of assistance, at his gullibility?

      Did she know his identity? Possibly. ’Twould explain much of her nervousness, her wish to keep Philip so close to her side.

      Hellfire, he’d been such a fool!

      “Come,” Stephen said. “She heads for Henry.”

      

      Lucinda’s first thought upon entering Westminster Hall was to bring Philip here to see the arched ceiling, the marble pillars and the elaborate throne. He would think the hall grand.

      She’d left Philip at the abbey under the care of Brother Ambrose. The monk had relented to her son’s plea to once again explore the infirmary, and wouldn’t be content until he learned the name of each medicinal herb, the purpose of every balm, and the use of all the tonics in the place.

      Philip knew that she’d left the abbey to see the king, and why, though he didn’t yet realize the full extent of how her petition, if granted, would change his life. Lucinda had decided not to explain too fully, for now.

      The king’s anger at Basil’s treachery must have cooled somewhat or he wouldn’t have granted her an audience. That didn’t mean he would also grant her petition.

      Lucinda glanced about the hall, recognizing few faces. Her hopes that she could go unrecognized and without comment faded when a woman’s eyes widened and she turned to a companion to whisper behind her hand. ’Twas too much to hope that the woman only commented on the shabby state of Lucinda’s garments when compared to the rest of the silk-clad, jewel-bedecked nobles.

      Lucinda focused on Henry during her long walk from the door to the dais. She wanted to get this over with. Only Henry’s opinion and mood mattered, not the rest of the court’s. With the words she would say to the king tumbling around in her head, she threaded her way through the crowd.

      As she neared the dais she took slow, steady breaths to calm a sudden tremor, which she hoped no one noticed. For as much as she feared facing Henry, she also dreaded running into Richard.

      Was he here in the hall? He would be angry when he learned her identity, of that she was sure. What form would his anger take?

      She would deal with him when the time came. Now she must present herself to the king and hope his anger at her late husband’s betrayal didn’t overflow onto her son.

      The crowd thickened as she neared the throne. Her nose wrinkled at the stench of too many bodies in too little space. Were these all petitioners, or merely listeners?

      “We will grant your request, Gaylord,” the king was saying. “You may hunt the woodland to the east of Hawkland for small game. You may not, however, take the king’s deer. In return for the privilege, you will keep the forest free of poachers.”

      “My thanks, Sire,” a man answered, bending into a low bow. “I will enforce the Forest Law with vigor.”

      As