But there was alertness from the two single men he instantly recognised. Lyman’s eyes had narrowed with unconcealed disgust even as he’d inclined his head. Mitchell had been too young to understand when Hugh had left, but appeared pleased at his return. As if his presence would revive a decidedly dull affair.
Since he, too, had a role to play, Hugh nodded to them both though he was truly aware of only one guest.
Alice—who stayed seated until the moving chairs forced her to rise, whose eyes widened in surprise and then quickly narrowed in anger and something else that flushed her cheeks.
It was a flush he shouldn’t have been able to see in the dim light of the room, but he was distinctly attuned to it despite his impoverished childhood and the secrets that would separate them for ever.
When she rose, he wondered if she would step closer to greet him. He wondered, in the state he was in, if he would close the distance.
Too much ale. He needed more control when it came to her and his mission. And surely it was the ale that had made him agree to attend tonight. It couldn’t be because Alice was here.
‘The seating is prepared.’ Elizabeth’s voice was serene, though her hands were clenched in front of her. Elizabeth—so obviously a lady. She didn’t approve of him being here, but would never insult him or Eldric by saying so.
‘Thank you, Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘for the courtesy of your home this evening.’
The lines of worry around her eyes eased. ‘It’s St Martin’s Day, Hugh, and all are welcome.’
Clever Elizabeth. Welcoming him and letting him know he wasn’t special at the same time. When they were young she’d been friendlier to him—but that had been before Alice had been forced into the empty well.
Seating himself at the place she’d indicated was for him, he loosened the tenseness in his shoulders. He was in Swaffham, sitting down to a St Martin’s Day feast, not entering unarmed into an enemy-laden field.
Although he had to wonder about that enemy field. Because subtly, strategically, Elizabeth had directed the servants to set him a place...next to Alice.
* * *
Before this moment, Alice hadn’t known it was possible to freeze with heat. Hugh was a mere hand’s breadth away. She felt more shock now than she had when she’d seen him at Court.
She felt more of his presence than ever before, too. Her eyes tracked every bit of his height, the broad sureness of his shoulders in his white tunic, the way his black leather breeches clung to his thighs, the gleam of the belt around his waist and the shine of his fine boots.
No doubt it was the unexpectedness of seeing him in the confines of her sister’s home...and realising he would be sitting next to her.
Simply that thought alone made heat suffuse her and froze her to her seat, while anger and frustration coursed jaggedly through her shock. She welcomed those emotions—intended to use them to get through this farce of a celebration.
How dare Hugh show up to her sister’s dinner? She’d been clear in the garden that she wanted nothing to do with him. And now she could do nothing to get rid of him—not without causing a scene. And she wouldn’t ruin Elizabeth’s party with accusations.
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