“Why don’t we just start with a public apology?” Beth proposed.
Alice lifted a hand to wipe her nose, and Beth realized that the obnoxious, contemptuous act she had put on earlier had been precisely that—an act. “As you wish.”
Beth turned to the doorway. “Michael—”
“I shall send them in right now,” he said, out of sight.
She closed her mouth and looked at Alice. “Do you think he heard it all?”
Alice nodded miserably.
Ignoring the stares of the servants who shuffled back into the room, Beth swiftly thought back over their conversation, recalled all of the things she had said about Robert, and wished she could go back to bed and start the whole day over again.
Since she couldn’t, she simply avoided looking at Michael, who was the last to reenter.
When everyone had reclaimed their former positions, keeping their distance from Alice this time, Beth did not have to say a word.
Alice dropped to her knees and bowed her head. “My lady, I do beg your forgiveness.” Beth opened her mouth to grant it, but the woman spoke again before she could. “I did shame you by calling you whore, not because I believed ’twas true—for I know otherwise—but because I was jealous of the affection Lord Robert holds for you, an affection that I admit he has never bestowed upon me, though I have led many to believe so. I was angry from the taunts I have suffered since your arrival and ashamed of the lies I have told. I should not have sullied your name when ’tis clear you make him happy. I vow I will never speak against you again and do humbly beg your forgiveness.”
Speechless, Beth stared at the top of the woman’s bent head.
Wow. She had expected a quick, grudging, Sorry I called you a whore and had gotten quite an impressive speech instead. Alice must feel thoroughly humiliated and know good and well that the taunts she had endured during the past few days were nothing compared to those she would be subjected to when all of this became common knowledge.
“Thank you, Alice.” Beth smiled as the woman rose. “That is the nicest apology I have ever received.”
Alice bobbed a curtsy.
A snide male voice spoke behind Beth. “I knew Lord Robert would not take up with a behemoth like her.” Several snickers followed.
Alice’s face flushed crimson.
Beth swung around furiously. “Hey!”
Everyone jumped and stared at her, wide-eyed.
“I do not want to hear one more word spoken about this, not to me and not to her,” Beth ground out. “Anyone who does will have to scrub every garderobe in the castle from top to bottom. Is that understood?”
In the blink of an eye, the smirking audience turned into bobble-head figures, hastily nodding their agreement.
Beth gave them a curt nod of her own. “Good. Now let’s get back to work.”
It took a while, but eventually conversation began to flow once more as hands resumed lifting and scrubbing.
Few spoke to Alice.
Those who did were careful not to taunt her.
Strolling over to Michael, Beth decided to help him prop up the wall for a few minutes while she considered how she might extract a promise from him not to repeat what he had witnessed. It took her several minutes to gather the nerve to glance up at him.
When she did, she groaned.
He was grinning from ear to ear.
“So help me, if you say one word to Robert about all of this, I will—”
“Grind me into the dirt?” he suggested cheerfully.
“Aye,” she growled.
He laughed. “Fear not, my lady. If ’tis your wish, I will not inform Lord Robert that he is yours.”
Groaning again, she covered her face with her hands.
Robert whistled a cheerful ditty as he entered the bailey, his spirit lighter than it had been in some time, despite his inability to locate his enemy. Another fortnight had passed, and no further attacks had ensued, leaving him with the hope that Michael and Stephen had been right and his enemy had moved on.
Work on the outer wall progressed rapidly.
Davey was up and walking about.
Sir Miles and Sir Winston had both survived their wounds and were slowly recovering as well.
And somewhere in the keep before him, he would find the woman who had brought joy and passion back into his life.
A roar of masculine laughter swelled on the air, echoing off the stone walls.
Pausing, Robert glanced around, seeking its source.
All was as it should be. No men loitered anywhere that he could see in groups large enough to have created such a ruckus.
Curious, he continued on toward the practice field.
Another roar of laughter buffeted him.
Cupping his hand above his eyes to shield them from the sun, Robert looked up at the men atop the curtain walls. Not only were they not laughing, they, too, seemed to search for the source of it.
A stern frown sent them hieing back to their posts.
When Robert reached the practice field, he found it deserted.
His captain slumped on a bench against the keep, glowering fiercely and muttering to himself.