a lady nonetheless,” Donald answered. “Nor do I think it fitting to bandy about the name of the baron’s lady, or to make such jests.”
Seldon, who usually agreed with Donald and followed his lead, shrugged his shoulders George grinned and Philippe clicked his tongue in disgust.
“Pardon me for offending your delicate sensibilities,” Philippe said, “but no matter how beautiful she is, Josephine de Chaney is still a—”
George held up his hand. “Not exactly, and I believe the distinction is worth noting,” he warned the impetuous young man beside him. “And she is a noblewoman.”
“Yes, she is,” Donald said firmly.
“Aye!” Seldon seconded, wiping his lips with his large hand.
“Oh, very well,” Philippe grudgingly conceded. “However, that Gabriella, she’s not anymore.” He smiled, and it was not a pleasant sight. “Let us drink to the impertinent Gabriella,” he said, raising his goblet. “I daresay she’ll be taught a lesson she won’t soon forget, eh?”
Donald-looked appalled. Seldon did, too, but it was George who was the first to speak. “Philippe,” he said with a touch of anger in his usually mildly amused voice, “you know the baron will not harm her.”
“Then why did he order her upstairs?” Philippe demanded.
George chuckled ruefully- “He probably has something he wants her to do.”
“That’s precisely my point,” Philippe said as he sullenly surveyed the others.
“I meant work,” George chided. “Maybe something to do with his boots or his cloak. He has no body servant, you will recall.”
“So you think he’s planning on having a female body servant? A most fascinating concept, I grant you.”
“All I’m saying is,” George replied, “the baron has never dishonored a woman in his life to my knowledge, and I see no reason for him to start now.”
“You don’t? Are you blind, man? She’s got the roundest, most detectable—”
“We noticed,” Donald interrupted, blushing like a boy.
“Did you?” Philippe asked Donald. “I thought you concerned yourself solely with the life to come.”
“And my duty here on earth,” Donald said stoutly. “It is our duty, as knights of the realm, to protect women.”
“Besides, why would the baron risk a charge of rape when she’s so skinny?” Seldon asked solemnly.
“You would dare to fight the baron over a serving wench?” Philippe demanded, ignoring Seldon.
“Yes, I would,” Donald replied with conviction.
“God’s holy heaven!” Philippe chided as he looked at Donald. “You should have been a monk.”
“That little bailiff didn’t look at all happy, poor fellow,” George remarked, obviously attempting to defuse the tense situation. “He ran out of the hall like he was pursued by one of the hounds.”
“What’s he got to be upset about?” Philippe said as he filled his goblet again. “He’s still the bailiff. For now.”
“I daresay he’s been harboring a tender feeling for his late lord’s daughter, if I’m any judge, and I think I am. He’s probably been pining in secret. Poor fellow, I don’t think he’d stand a chance with a woman of such spirit.”
“He didn’t defend her,” Donald said. “If he truly cared for her, he would.”
“Come now, Donald,” George replied. “He isn’t a knight. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s completely terrified of Baron DeGuerre. She wasn’t, though. Whoever would have imagined a woman standing up to Baron DeGuerre?”
“He’s not a god, you know,” Philippe said scornfully. “You all treat Baron DeGuerre like he’s the second coming!”
“You say that because you’re new to his service,” George said affably. “You’ve never seen him fight By God, you’d change your tune fast enough then.”
“Perhaps,” Philippe said, clearly unconvinced.
“Our Donald’s still suffering the effects of being trained by Fitzroy,” George said with a sad smile and laughing eyes. “That man’s notions concerning the fairer sex are even more strict than the baron’s.”
“Ah, yes, the famous Fitzroy,” Philippe said. “I wouldn’t mind facing him in a tournament someday. You fought him once, didn’t you, Seldon?”
Seldon looked away. “Yes.”
“And you lost?”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t quite a fair fight, I believe?”
“Shut your mouth and leave it,” Donald snarled, rising. “That was a long time ago, and he’s made up for it since.”
“Of course, of course, calm yourself!” Philippe declared. “I simply asked.”
“Come now, we are getting far too worked up. It must be the fine wine,” George said. “We are all friends here.”
Donald was not appeased. “I’ve had quite enough of you for one night,” he said to Philippe, his teeth clenched. “Good night!”
He marched from the hall, followed a moment later by Seldon. “That wasn’t very nice, Philippe,” George said coldly. “Seldon was a boy when he did that unwise thing.”
“He’s still a dullard,” Philippe replied, reaching out for more wine.
George raised his wine in a salute. “Let us drink to women in general, eh, Philippe? Will that satisfy you?”
They raised their goblets and drank, then lowered them as Baron DeGuerre rose from the table. They watched silently as he spoke a few quiet words to Josephine de Chaney, whose face betrayed no emotion, before he went to the tower stairs and disappeared from view.
“One of us is going to be satisfied tonight,” Philippe said nastily.
“I think I’ll go, too. You’re getting drunk, and you’re rather poor company when you’re in that state.”
Philippe took a large gulp of wine and watched George saunter away. He didn’t care what they thought. They were all cowards, bowing and scraping before Baron DeGuerre.
He took a few more gulps. He didn’t care what the baron thought, either. The man was mortal, like all the rest, and he lacked breeding, too.
Why didn’t women see that? Why did they always pass over him, so much more deserving, and try to entice the baron? No matter what the others thought, he was sure that was what Gabriella Frechette was trying to do. She was a mere woman, after all.
A
