the effort—and brevity—would gain him some standing.
Before long, however, he tired of the heat and bustle and allowed Cecil to persuade him to join a game of jacks in their attic room. As they were halfway to the staircase, a rapid and insistent knocking on the door to the street sounded throughout the room. The innkeeper hurried to open it.
‘We’re full. No rooms to spare.’
‘I don’t need a room,’ came the reply. ‘Is there a Master Danby here?’
Robbie stopped, surprised to hear his name spoken and in a female voice. He could make out the form of a cloaked figure in the doorway, partially masked by the innkeeper. Cecil, who was three steps ahead of him, grinned and whistled.
‘You’ve lost no time in finding yourself a diversion for the night! I thought you didn’t know where to find women and you’ve called for one already.’ He thrust his crotch out and made an obscene gesture with his fist.
‘I didn’t call for a w-woman. There m-must be a m-mistake.’ Robbie glared at Cecil in outrage as humiliation caused his cheeks to burn.
He gestured fiercely to Cecil to go on up the stairs, then walked back down, his curiosity piqued. He crossed to the doorway where the woman stood. She was clad in a deep blue cloak of light wool with the voluminous hood pulled over her face, obscuring her identity. Her head was downcast and her hands folded neatly in front of her.
‘Who w-wants me at this hour?’ he asked. ‘I’m M-Master Danby.’
The woman drew her hood down to reveal neat black curls caught beneath a simple white cap. She raised her head and her dark-lashed eyes travelled upward and met Robbie’s. They widened briefly and her face broke into a beaming smile, small dimples appearing in each cheek.
‘Of course you are Master Danby,’ she said. ‘Don’t you recognise me? I’m Rowenna.’
‘D-Dumpling?’
Robbie couldn’t help himself. The old name he used to call her slipped out amid the words that caught in his throat. With her arched brows, straight nose and high cheekbones she looked so unlike the round-faced Rowenna he had nestled in his memory and even further from the grey-pallored mouse Cecil had described. He was not even sure she was who she claimed to be.
This woman was stunningly beautiful.
She also looked furious at being reminded of the childhood name. Her eyes glinted. Her smile froze. Vanished completely. The smooth forehead ruffled into a familiar scowl.
Robbie knew then, in no uncertain terms, this was his childhood friend. He prepared himself for a smack on the arm and began to blurt out apologies, but Rowenna gave an imperious wave of her hand to silence him and her smile returned much quicker than Robbie was expecting. She lifted her chin and set her shoulders back, all sign of displeasure gone from her expression, which was tinged now with aloofness. The mannerism reminded Robbie of his grandmother.
‘I had hoped your years away would have taught you how to speak to a lady,’ she said.
Her voice sounded oddly dignified, coming from the girl who used to bellow in his face when they argued.
‘I’m sorry! I w-was just s-s-s—’
‘Surprised to see me?’ Rowenna finished for him. Robbie stiffened instinctively, his eyes narrowing, and her expression became one of anguish. She put one hand to cover her lips, which Robbie noticed had become fuller and redder over the years, and placed the other on his arm in entreaty.
‘Oh, Robbie, I’m sorry!’ she gasped. ‘I know you hate people finishing your speech. Forgive me!’
Her fingers slid slowly down his sleeve, coming to rest on his bare wrist. Her fingers were warm against his flesh. He was acutely aware of how the hairs on his arm stood on end at this unexpected contact. He shook his head, smiling to show she had not offended him, though inside he writhed with shame that he could not even greet his old friend with ease.
‘I think we have both offended each other adequately so the s-score is s-settled.’ He managed to spit out his words without too much faltering and was touched to see Rowenna waited patiently for him to finish, watching him with bright eyes that called to mind an inquisitive blackbird watching a worm. She inclined her head gracefully to one side, displaying an elegantly curved neck that made Robbie think of fresh cream.
‘I agree. Greet me properly, then, Cousin Robbie,’ she said.
And waited.
Fingers of fire raced over Robbie’s body. Clearly she expected him to take the lead and set the tone of their reunion, but he had no idea where to start, being so unprepared for this moment. He leaned forward instinctively to embrace her and show how glad he was to see her again, but drew back as his heart gave a violent throb. Taking her in his arms after so long apart felt too intimate. A kiss on her cheek would be acceptable, though this led to the thought of kissing her lips, sending shivers racing over his skin in the most alarming fashion.
He settled for taking her hand and lifting it to his lips, combined with a quick bow. She curtsied gracefully.
Robbie became conscious that they were standing in full view of those members of Sir John’s household who had not departed. Cecil’s assumption that the unexpected visitor was a whore came to mind.
‘Why are you here?’ he asked.
‘I want you to come for supper tonight. Father was going to ask you tomorrow, but I begged him to ask for you tonight. You will come, won’t you?’
‘Tonight?’ She had clearly lost none of her impulsiveness in the years they had been apart. He had other plans, but they had gone clean out of his head in the presence of Rowenna. He pursed his lips doubtfully.
‘I shall have to ask permission from Sir John. The hour is late.’
‘But will you come if he allows it?’
She didn’t wait for his answer before continuing, ‘Let me ask him, I’m sure he would not refuse the petition of a lady. Where is he to be found?’
Robbie glanced to the large recess where Sir John’s private table was veiled by a thick curtain. Following his eyes, Rowenna walked purposefully through the room towards the alcove, her heavy cloak swaying from side to side. Robbie half expected her to pull the curtain back and demand entry in the direct manner she had demonstrated as a child. Robbie strode to Rowenna in consternation and caught her by the arm. She stopped, cocked her head at him and raised her eyebrows in surprise.
Robbie’s lord and master was a kind man. Robbie had no complaints about the treatment he had received in the many years he had been in Sir John’s service. He could be stern, however, and had very definite and fixed views on how a woman should conduct herself.
‘I’ll speak with him,’ Robbie said firmly. ‘You w-wait here.’
He slipped between the curtains, clenching his jaw in exasperation at Rowenna’s assumption he had no plans of his own. He made his apologies for the intrusion and explained to Sir John that his cousin wished to address him. The old man listened, then gave a brief smile.
‘Your cousin? Bring her in, then, Master Danby. I should be happy to speak a few words to her as she has
