A Midsummer Knight's Kiss. Elisabeth Hobbes

most alarming fashion.

      He settled for taking her hand and lifting it to his lips, combined with a quick bow. She curtsied gracefully.

      Robbie became conscious that they were standing in full view of those members of Sir John’s household who had not departed. Cecil’s assumption that the unexpected visitor was a whore came to mind.

      ‘Why are you here?’ he asked.

      ‘I want you to come for supper tonight. Father was going to ask you tomorrow, but I begged him to ask for you tonight. You will come, won’t you?’

      ‘Tonight?’ She had clearly lost none of her impulsiveness in the years they had been apart. He had other plans, but they had gone clean out of his head in the presence of Rowenna. He pursed his lips doubtfully.

      ‘I shall have to ask permission from Sir John. The hour is late.’

      ‘But will you come if he allows it?’

      She didn’t wait for his answer before continuing, ‘Let me ask him, I’m sure he would not refuse the petition of a lady. Where is he to be found?’

      Robbie glanced to the large recess where Sir John’s private table was veiled by a thick curtain. Following his eyes, Rowenna walked purposefully through the room towards the alcove, her heavy cloak swaying from side to side. Robbie half expected her to pull the curtain back and demand entry in the direct manner she had demonstrated as a child. Robbie strode to Rowenna in consternation and caught her by the arm. She stopped, cocked her head at him and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

      Robbie’s lord and master was a kind man. Robbie had no complaints about the treatment he had received in the many years he had been in Sir John’s service. He could be stern, however, and had very definite and fixed views on how a woman should conduct herself.

      ‘I’ll speak with him,’ Robbie said firmly. ‘You w-wait here.’

      He slipped between the curtains, clenching his jaw in exasperation at Rowenna’s assumption he had no plans of his own. He made his apologies for the intrusion and explained to Sir John that his cousin wished to address him. The old man listened, then gave a brief smile.

      ‘Your cousin? Bring her in, then, Master Danby. I should be happy to speak a few words to her as she has come so far at such a time.’

      He settled himself upright in the high-backed chair while Robbie slipped out to beckon Rowenna.

      ‘He will see you. Be polite,’ he cautioned.

      Rowenna gave him a withering look in response to his warning and declined to answer. She adjusted the ribbons on her cloak, which had come slightly askew, folded her hands neatly and followed behind Robbie, head bowed submissively.

      ‘M-may I have the honour to present my cousin Rowenna Danby, my lord?’

      Sir John’s expression when displeased had been known to reduce a clumsy kitchen skivvy to tears from across the Great Hall. He fixed Rowenna with such a gaze, his gimlet eyes examining her from head to foot.

      ‘I believe you wish to speak to me regarding my squire.’

      Like Robbie, Rowenna had grown up under the eye of Lady Danby and such attempts to intimidate her were sure to fail. He only hoped she would not speak as forthrightly as she used to when addressing Lady Danby—something that had landed her in trouble on many occasions.

      To his relief—and slight surprise—Rowenna averted her gaze modestly and smoothly dropped into a deep curtsy with surprising elegance. She remained silent. Robbie glanced sideways and saw Sir John’s expression soften, filling with approval. He motioned Rowenna to rise with a quick shake of his hand.

      ‘I crave your pardon for the lateness of my visit, but my family are all eager to have my cousin with us again. It has been many years since we last saw him.’ She looked at Robbie and her smile deepened, causing the dimples to return. ‘Far too many years.’

      Robbie smiled in return, his eyes meeting her dark-lashed pair. Surely they had not been that long when he had last seen her? He took her hand, fondness rushing through him.

      ‘Are you here to ask my permission to marry?’ Sir John asked.

      ‘To marry!’ Robbie exclaimed. A peal of laughter burst from Rowenna as if such a preposterous idea was the most amusing thing she had ever heard. She clasped her hand across her lips.

      ‘I… No… I merely wish to claim him for a night… We… For an evening!’

      Rowenna stumbled over her words as though her tongue was as awkward and disobedient as Robbie’s and she had begun to blush as red as Sir John’s wine. Her eyes flickered to Robbie’s and widened. The two of them could once again have been children awaiting judgement from their parents. Robbie bit back a smile.

      ‘I have no intention of marrying yet,’ Rowenna added.

      ‘Good. A squire is in no position to wed.’ Sir John nodded at Robbie. ‘I would advise a man to have made a name for himself before he takes a wife.’

      Robbie’s scalp prickled as he wondered if Sir John suspected his hopes towards Mary. Sir John addressed Rowenna once more.

      ‘Young woman, where is your attendant? You have brought a chaperone, I assume?’

      Rowenna gazed on him with clear eyes. ‘Father planned to send the servant to ask, but I decided I would come instead.’

      Sir John was stone-faced for what felt like a year. Then he chuckled. ‘Neatly ensuring I am in no position to make you return home unescorted. Very well. Robbie, you have my leave for a short while. Go visit your kin, but be warned, I expect you attending to your duties as usual tomorrow morning. If you hope for any success tomorrow, you will not be late to bed.’

      Robbie wondered whether his lord meant success in the bohort—the games for squires to take part in—or with Mary. He was still pondering that when he bowed and took Rowenna’s arm to escort her from the alcove. He left her waiting in the outer room while he rushed two steps at a time to the bedroom and gathered his cloak and money scrip. Cecil and his companions were engrossed in their game of jacks and showed only mild interest in what he was doing. His inability to answer concisely worked in his favour as they returned to their game before he could explain.

      He paused at the turn of the stairs and walked the bottom half slowly to give himself time to look at Rowenna. As a child she would have been scuffing her feet or twisting her ribbons into knots, but now she stood perfectly still, hands folded placidly and face serene as a marble statue in a cathedral. Only her eyes gave life to her, darting around the room and taking in everything that was happening.

      She slipped her hand on to the arm he held out and they left the inn. A boy was sitting against the wall to the side of the door, his knees drawn up and his feet drumming a repetitive beat on the stones. He had a small brown puppy on a leash that began barking as soon as it spotted Rowenna, racing round in circles in a tangle of long hair.

      ‘Get up out of the mud, lazy-legs,’ Rowenna said cheerfully.

      ‘You brought him!’ the boy exclaimed, looking at Robbie in delight.

      Before Robbie knew what was happening, the boy had hurled himself upright and barrelled into Robbie, flinging his arms about Robbie’s waist. Rowenna was smiling. Robbie raised his eyebrow.

      ‘You haven’t met my brother,’ she told him.

      Robbie disentangled himself from the boy and held him back to examine him. The child bore the Danby black curls and had inherited his sister’s determined expression. This must be Ralf, the child Joanna had been carrying when Robbie had left Wharram.

      ‘I thought you said you had no escort,’ he said, narrowing his eyes at Rowenna.

      ‘A child is hardly a chaperone. Besides, if I had admitted he was here, your master might have sent me away empty-handed.’

      She gave him a smile that radiated the innocence