‘What have you done?’
‘Nothing, just yet. But I fancy that by morning, our leaving will be facilitated as swiftly as we could wish.’ He drank again. ‘Sometimes I don’t care for the things that I must do,’ he observed, and there was a plaintive note in his voice. He finished the glass of wine as if girding himself for a task.
Not another word would he divulge to me. He arrayed himself carefully for dinner, and I had to suffer the indignity of the green jerkin and yellow leggings. ‘Perhaps it is a shade too bright,’ he conceded in response to my incensed gaze. His grin was too broad for me to believe any apology in his words. I did not know if it was the wine or one of his fey humours. ‘Stop glowering, Badgerlock,’ he rebuked me as he adjusted the cuffs of a muted green coat. ‘I expect my servants to maintain a pleasant demeanour. Besides, the colour does set off the darkness of your eyes and skin and hair – all of you. It rather reminds me of an exotic parrot. You may not appreciate such a show of yourself, but the ladies will.’
Obeying him taxed all my ability to dissemble. I walked behind him to where the nobility had gathered before dinner. This was a larger group than the night before, for Lady Bresinga had extended her hospitality to those who had hunted with her earlier. They might have been invisible for all the notice Lord Golden gave them. Sydel was seated at a low table with young Civil. An assortment of feathers was spread out before her on a cloth, and they seemed to be discussing them. She had obviously been watching the door, for the moment Lord Golden entered, her face was transfigured. She gleamed like a lantern in the darkness. Young Civil also underwent a transformation, but it was not so pleasant. He could not very well sneer at a guest in his mother’s home, but his features went very still and cold. Dismay clutched at my belly. No. I wanted no part of this.
But Golden, smiling and charming, made directly for the pair. His greetings to everyone else in the chamber were brief to the point of neglect. Without even a pretence of subtlety, he seated himself between them, obliging Civil to move over to make room for him. From that moment on, he virtually ignored everyone else in the room as he focused all of his allure on the girl. Their heads bent together over the feathers. His every movement was a seduction. His long fingers stroked the gaudy feathers on the cloth. He selected one, and touched its softness to his own cheek, and then leaned forwards to draw it gently down the length of Sydel’s arm. She giggled nervously and drew back from the touch. He smiled. She blushed. He set the feather back on the cloth and shook a reproachful finger at it as if it were at fault. Then he selected another one. Boldly he held it against the sleeve of her gown, murmuring some comparison of colour. He gathered others from the cloth, arranged them in a sort of feather bouquet. With the tip of one forefinger, he turned her face to look at his, and then, by a trick I could not see, fastened the feathers into her hair so that they hung down and followed the line of her cheek.
Civil rose abruptly and stalked away. His mother spoke to a woman at her side, who moved swiftly to intercept him before he left the chamber. There were low voiced words between them, and the young man’s tone was not calm. I could not follow what he said, for Lord Golden’s words rose over general conversation to proclaim, ‘Would that I had a looking-glass to show you, but you must be content to see how well this ornament becomes you by looking into my eyes.’
Earlier in the day, I had been appalled at how brazenly she had stalked Lord Golden and at how willing she had been to throw over her young suitor for the strange nobleman. Now I almost pitied Sydel. One hears of birds charmed by snakes, though I have never seen such a thing. What I witnessed now was more like a flower leaning towards light. She absorbed his attention and blossomed in its warmth. In the space of a few moments, her girlish infatuation with his age and wealth and fine ways had been transformed into a more womanly warmth and fascination with him. I knew with crawling certainty that she was his to bed, if he chose. Should he tap at her chamber door tonight, she would admit him without hesitation.
‘He goes too far.’ Laurel’s breathless whisper was tinged with horror as she strolled past me.
‘He excels at that,’ I murmured in reply. I shifted my shoulders in the confines of my gaudy jacket. My pretence at being Lord Golden’s bodyguard might become real tonight. Certainly the look Civil shot him promised murder.
When Lady Bresinga announced that it was time to dine, Civil made the foolish mistake of hesitating. Before he had even the chance churlishly to refuse to escort Sydel to the table, his rival had offered his arm and the girl had taken it. This left Civil duty-bound to escort his slighted mother as they followed their esteemed guest and his prey into the dining hall.
I tried to rein my emotions in and be a stoic observer of that dinner. Lord Golden’s tactic revealed much to me. Sydel’s parents were obviously torn between courtesy to Lady Bresinga and her son, and the enticing prospect of their daughter winning the attention of this extremely wealthy nobleman. Lord Golden was a far more desirable catch than young Civil, yet they were not unmindful of the danger to their young daughter. To catch a nobleman’s eye is not the same as to have the pledge of one. There was a danger that he might toy with her and ruin her for future marriage. It was a dangerous line for a young girl to walk, and in the way that Lady Grayling picked her bread to pieces I plainly saw her mother’s doubts that Sydel could toe it.