with you while you’re in London.”
Nicholas shrugged. “’Tis no matter. William will care not that I have raised a cup or two—only that I bring word that his border is safe.”
Nick’s beautiful sister-in-law looked to her husband. “My lord, mayhap ’twould be best if we accompanied Nick to his rooms. ’Twill not do for him to be seen in this condition.”
“It cannot be helped, my sweet,” Tristan replied to the red-haired woman with chagrin. “The ladies have already spied him. He is trapped, I’m afraid.”
Nick turned to the room behind him and indeed saw several pairs of feminine eyes pinned to him as the ladies impatiently finished the current set.
He chuckled with unabashed glee. “Yea, I am trapped, and what a gentle snare it is!”
“Nicholas,” Tristan warned, “the purpose of your attending the king’s birthday celebration—of which you’ve not deemed worthy of your presence until now—is to find a suitable bride. Not to bed the entire female population.”
Lady Haith rolled her eyes at the crude conversation and turned her back to the brothers, sipping her wine and admiring the dancers.
“’Tis only what I’ve been doing, Brother,” Nick insisted. “I’ve been most harried, attempting to determine each lady’s worth.” Nick wiggled his eyebrows. “My investigations have been quite thorough.”
Tristan leaned closer, and through the haze of drink, Nick caught a glimpse of concern—or was it disapproval—in his brother’s blue eyes.
“This is no good, Nick,” Tristan advised quietly. “You can drink and wench until the end of your days and ’twill not bring Lady Evelyn back to you.”
“Do not mention the cow’s name to me,” Nick growled, all tipsy good humor gone. “Her deceit has no bearing on how I choose to entertain myself. She means naught to me.”
“Really?” Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Is that why all the ladies presented to you thus far have been too dark or too wide, too tall, or having eyes of the wrong shade?”
Nick glared at his brother. “Mind your own affairs.”
“I am merely suggesting—”
“Well, do not.” Nick seized the chalice Tristan held and took a healthy gulp. His eyes scanned the bobbing, twirling crowd with less enthusiasm now, his earlier joviality diminished after his brother’s meddling observations.
Many of the ladies in attendance openly stared at him, their eyes issuing blatant invitations—particularly those whose favors he’d already sampled. There were some new faces among the dancers, he noticed—young girls recently put out to market by their families and eager to make a profitable match. Although several were quite fetching and would make for enjoyable sport, none sparked any real interest in Nicholas.
’Twas as if he gazed over an open field dotted with cattle—each cow having slightly varying features, but when viewed as a whole, none were discernable from the herd.
Evelyn’s face came to his mind’s eye totally unbidden, as it was wont to do. Heavy shocks of wavy, auburn hair framing the calm, blue eyes of a winter sky. The delicate constellation of freckles across her rosy cheeks haunted him here when faced with the carefully composed masks of the ladies before him.
For the thousandth time, he scolded himself. Would that I had seized her from the convent, he thought. The very night I learned of her flight, I should have ridden to the priory at Withington and brought her back to Hartmoore, willing or nay.
But just as quickly as the thought blossomed, it withered and died. He would not press his suit to a woman who so obviously didn’t want him. Even now, Evelyn’s messages to him remained unopened. He could not bring himself to read the excuses and apologies the letters surely contained. She had deserted him, refused him.
Humiliated him.
The set ended then, and the crowd was dispersing evenly from the floor. Nick raised his commandeered chalice to his lips, but his arm paused halfway as he glimpsed the delicate creature being led from the crush by elderly Lord Cecil Halbrook.
She appeared impossibly tiny, even when paired with her portly partner, and Nick fancied that the crown of her head would not reach his shoulder. Her green gown trailed behind her in a regal swath, and when her downcast face tilted slightly in Nick’s direction, his breath seized in his throat.
The greenest eyes he’d ever seen pierced him with their gaze. The lady only glanced at him, a fact that pricked at his pride, before bowing her raven-tressed head once more.
“Fetching, is she not?” Lady Haith asked lightly, once more addressing the brothers.
“Hmmm,” Tristan replied.
Nick shook his head slightly as if to clear away the cobwebs that had enveloped it. “Who is she?”
“Lady Simone du Roche,” Haith said. “Arrived recently from France with her father.”
“Is she game?” Nick’s eyes followed the beauty as Halbrook deposited her on a stool some distance away. Her partner immediately dismissed her and stepped away to speak to a tall, bullish man standing nearby. Left to her own devices, the woman averted her face into her veil, hiding her porcelain features.
“Indeed, she is game,” Tristan replied. “The odd-looking brute to her left is her father, Armand du Roche. ’Twould seem her most recent dance partner has taken more than a passing interest in her.”
“But why would she be presented at English court?” Nick asked. “Surely there was no dearth of French suitors for a titled lady as lovely as she?”
Tristan shrugged and then inclined his head toward his wife. “My lady?”
Haith’s eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to Nick. “There was a fantastic scandal in her homeland. She was betrothed to an old, noble family, but the contract was broken by her intended on the very day they were to wed.” Haith lowered her voice even further. “’Tis said she’s quite mad.”
“Mad?” Nick was only partly listening to the information about the woman he could not take his eyes from.
“’Tis rumored that she hears voices in her head—speaks to people who aren’t there.” Haith sniffed. “But I do not believe that for an instant. I think—”
Nick shoved his brother’s chalice at Haith, effectively silencing her. “I must speak to her,” he said before straightening his slightly rumpled tunic and striding in her direction.
After Nick had departed, Tristan turned to look down at his wife, who still stared intently at the dark-haired woman.
“What think you, my lady?” he asked. “Will Nick make yet another conquest out of the girl?”
A devious smile curled Haith’s lips. “I think mayhap if he is not wary, Nicholas could find himself the one conquered.”
“Might I visit the other hall, Sister?” Didier asked as soon as Simone was returned to her stool. “I saw some wondrous cakes I’d care to sample.”
Simone
