“No, no. I will not allow her to bother me. I did not do anything wrong. She is the one who should be uncomfortable.” Evangeline brushed past him.
“Wait.” Westley touched her arm. “Let me see your hands. Come into the light.” He pulled her toward a window. She placed her hands in his, palms up.
“You aren’t covering them.”
“I can get more work done with them uncovered. They are nearly healed now.”
“I don’t want you letting them get worse again.”
“They need to toughen up, don’t you think? If I am to be a servant for the rest of my life, I need tough hands.”
He was still holding her hands in his as he stared into her eyes. There was a serious, sad expression on his face. He said softly, “You were never meant to be a servant.”
“But I can work. I can be free and . . . do what I like.” Only if she could manage to stay free from the king and Lord Shiveley.
And only if Muriel would not tell them where she was.
“Besides, we are all meant to be servants of the Most High God. Even you.”
Westley smiled. “Yes. Even me.” He suddenly let go of her hands. “Tomorrow is the first day of the festival, when you are to sing.”
Evangeline sucked in a deep breath. “I am ready.”
Even if the worst happened, she was at peace.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Evangeline sat on a stool at the back of the castle and closed her eyes as Nicola prepared her long, wavy hair by adding tiny braids and weaving wildflowers into the plaits. Lastly, she pinned a crown of white flowers on top of her head.
Nicola handed her the small looking glass. Evangeline gasped. “How did you get it to curl so perfectly?” Normally her hair was wild and unruly. Somehow Nicola had calmed her hair into perfect ringlets, with tiny braids interspersed. “It’s beautiful. You have a special talent for hair dressing.”
“Thank you very much.” Nicola curtsied, smiling. “And now I can hardly wait to hear you sing.”
Evangeline placed a hand over her stomach. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. I have been singing every night with Lord and Lady le Wyse and their family.”
“And have you been singing privately to Westley?” Nicola winked at her.
“No, I have not.”
“I have heard that the two of you can be seen sitting alone together every day just before the evening meal.”
“We are reading.”
“Reading? Has he kissed you?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you kiss him?”
“I cannot do that.” Evangeline gave Nicola her best horrified look. The thought, in truth, did not horrify her much at all.
Evangeline straightened the belt around her hips. “Westley is an honorable young man. He does not go around kissing girls.”
“Perhaps if you kissed him, it might help him make up his mind.”
“Make up his mind about what?”
“About whether he should kiss you, whether he should marry you.”
“Why would he want to marry me?” Evangeline turned away from Nicola and bent to put on her shoes, then reached for her overdress.
“Because you are beautiful. You know how to read. You apparently come from a wealthy family.”
“A wealthy family?”
“It is obvious, Eva. You don’t know how to perform the ordinary tasks that any other girl would have been doing since she was six years old. But you know how to read.” She gave Evangeline a pointed look.
Evangeline’s heart suddenly ached to tell Nicola her whole story, ached for a deeper friendship with another girl her age. But wouldn’t that put Nicola in danger?
“I did have an unusual upbringing,” Evangeline finally said. “I was an orphan and my guardian kept me a prisoner, you might say. He wanted me to marry someone I didn’t want to marry, and I ran away.”
“Why didn’t you want to marry him? Was he rich?”
“Yes.”
“But he was old and ugly?”
“Yes.”
Nicola shook her head and sighed. “I would have done the same.” She stepped toward Evangeline and helped her on with her overdress. Then she made some adjustments to her hair. “And now, if you can get Westley to marry you, you will not have to marry that other person.” She smiled.
Even if she were married to Westley, Lord Shiveley could have her marriage annulled, could steal her away and have the king “make amends” to Westley and his family. But now that she had her newly learned skills of defending herself, he would not find her an easy conquest. She would literally fight him at every turn if she had to.
“You look beautiful in this dress.” Nicola stepped back to look at her. “The green brings out your eyes, and when you are singing at the festival, Westley will forgive you for when you pretended to be mute. Perhaps he will even kiss you at the festival.”
“Let us not speak about me anymore.” Evangeline’s cheeks burned. “Westley can kiss whomever he wishes. What about you, Nicola? Do you have a sweetheart?”
“My sweetheart died last winter.”
Evangeline covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Nicola. What happened?”