“I assure you,” Sir Angus said, “’tis not idle talk in which we indulge.” He jutted his chin to the tapestry being set on its hooks. “Much the lady has accomplished during your absence. And you? Your mother is apprised of the old baron's return?”
She looked between Laura and him, drew a whistling breath through her nose. “All has been made known to Lady Raisa. As expected, she is distressed.”
Laura did not doubt that. No matter how severe the lady, no matter it was twenty years since her husband’s disappearance, the return of his remains would be painful—and could prove more so when she and her daughter learned they would be interred without delay.
“Indeed,” Lady Sebille said, “methinks it may be some time ere the Lady of Lexeter is able to attend her husband’s burial—mayhap a sennight.”
The knight caught Laura's eye, raised his eyebrows as if to remind her it was for Lothaire to reveal the burial arrangements, then strode away.
Lady Sebille kept her back to him a long moment, swung around, and watched him cross to the tapestry that had been rehung on the wall. When he aided a shapely young woman in descending the final rungs of a ladder, Lothaire’s sister sucked a sharp breath.
Then still she wanted the man she had rejected? Laura wondered. Certes, the disapproval to which she had subjected Laura thickened as if jealousy were stirred into it.
“Careful, Lady Laura,” Lady Sebille said so low that had she not named the woman alongside her, it would have seemed she spoke to herself. “Gallant and helpful Sir Angus may be, but he has a great appetite for women.”
Laura did not know how to respond, on one side uncertain as to why the lady warned her, on the other side surely expected to have no knowledge that once the knight had been fond of his lord’s sister.
“As you—and I assure you, my brother—know well, flirtation can lead to ruination.”
Now Laura sucked air. The lady’s warning was as it sounded. “I was not flirting with Sir Angus.”
Lady Sebille tsked. “I am sure that woman would say the same.” She nodded at the servant. “But look at her. See what she invites.”
“Lady Sebille—”
“Look at her,” she repeated, this time with beseeching.
The woman laughed at something Sir Angus said, stepped nearer.
“Women like that turn good men bad.” Lothaire’s sister met Laura’s gaze. “Ricard Soames was a good man and father, but he yielded to temptation, just as Sir Angus does. For it, my sire is but bones. For it, Lexeter was nearly ruined by the excesses of a grieving wife.”
More laughter that returned Lady Sebille’s regard to the woman who glided a hand down the knight’s arm. Then the servant turned and, with a roll of the hips, moved toward the next tapestry to come down.
“I shall have to speak with her,” Lady Sebille said. “If she wishes to continue feeding her pack of brothers and sisters, she will have to turn her attentions to those nearer her station.” The lady's hand closed around her prayer beads. “And of course, more time at prayer would not go amiss.”
So much spoken that told there was far more unspoken. But though curiosity eased Laura’s outrage over the lady’s belief her exchange with Sir Angus had been flirtation, she knew the answers to her questions would not be given.
Patience, she counseled. And observation. Eventually, she would better understand the family amongst whom she was to raise her daughter.
Lady Sebille’s elevated brow prompting a response, Laura said, “Even unanswered prayer does not go amiss, I suppose.”
That brow lowered and the light clatter of beads over which she worked her fingers went silent. “All prayer is answered, Lady Laura. Just because you do not like the Lord’s response does not mean you do not have His ear. He sees and hears and feels all.”
Hence, the reason His arms were ever too full? Laura questioned as she struggled to press down further offense at being taken to task by one who may have loved and lost but had not been forced down that path—at least, not by violent, painfully degrading means.
Laura drew a deep breath. “You are right. My apologies. I fear I am embittered by a life turned opposite the direction I wished to travel.”
“And who is to blame for that, Lady Laura? Certes, not the Lord.”
Laura felt her chest expand, pressed her lips so the air straining her lungs did not escape on words she would regret. She had thought she might come to enjoy the company of Lothaire’s sister, but now…
“I pray you will excuse me, Lady Sebille. There is much work to be done.”
Hardly had she taken a step than the woman caught her arm. “Forgive me,” she said. “I am also embittered by a life gone awry—though mayhap I fool myself in believing it was ever mine to direct. And now with the return of my father…”
Laura appreciated her attempt to rectify her transgression, but she needed to distance herself. “I understand, Lady Sebille, but I must resume my duties if I am to do right by your brother, as I know is of utmost importance to the sister who loves him well.”
“Of course.” She inclined her head. “And I shall consult with Cook lest the Baron of Wiltford avail himself of our hospitality.”
“Forgive me,” Laura hastened. “It was probably not my place, but I have discussed a change of menu with him.”
Lady Sebille’s lashes fluttered. “As it is to be your place, ’tis good you did, especially since he can be disagreeable. Thus, the sooner you have him in hand, the better.”
Laura inclined her head. “I hope I shall see you at supper, Lady Sebille.”
“Likely, I will be with Lady Raisa. Now since I am not needed, I shall seek the Lord’s guidance for the morrow.”
Which she could not know would be more difficult yet, but that was for Lothaire to tell.
Laura watched the woman's wraithlike figure cross the hall. Had she not been looking for Lady Sebille’s seeking of Lothaire’s man, she might not have noticed the slight turn of the woman’s head toward where he stabilized the ladder climbed by the servant Lady Sebille believed tempted him. It was an advantageous position, one that would allow him a view up the woman’s skirts, but he did not tip his head back.
Laura was not surprised. He might give in to temptation, but he seemed too honorable to leer or make lewd advances. And yet, not so honorable in that he allowed Lady Sebille to witness his temptations. To rouse jealousy? If so, was it an act of reprisal or of purpose—that he yet hoped to gain the lady’s hand and thought to move her in that direction?
The latter, Laura decided, then set her mind to assuming the role Lady Raisa would unwillingly relinquish.
Wearied and disheveled, a greater contrast the two could not have presented to the great room into which they stepped.
Lothaire halted so abruptly the girl on his heels bumped into him.
“Forgive me, Lord Soames.” She jumped from behind. “I ought not follow so—” Her gasp reflected his own disbelief.