Page 11 of An Inconvenient Vow

Her father nodded at her from the doorway, clearly too discomforted by everything that had passed to embrace her now. Sabina lowered her eyes as her family passed out of the room. She swallowed hard before looking up again. Jeffree de Crecy was stood in the doorway, looking about as tractable as a figure carved from marble.

“What now?” she asked, feeling suddenly exhausted. It had been a long day.

Wordlessly, he gestured for her to pass through the door before him. Squaring her shoulders, Sabina followed his command and they walked down the passageway, to where he indicated she should climb a flight of stairs.

Sabina did so and he followed her up. At the top of the stairs, he took the lead and led her along a corridor until they reached a door which he flung open and marched inside. Sabina hesitated on the threshold. The door had opened into a large bedchamber with a big, canopied bed covered and draped in luxurious blue brocade. Her eye traveled over a handsome square table and two chairs, a carved bench, and a large trunk before reaching the massive unlit fireplace with the De Crecy arms displayed above it.

“Where are you going to sleep?” she asked pointedly.

“That is my bed.”

“Then where am I to sleep?” Sabina asked, gritting her teeth.

He nodded his head toward a door on the far wall. Her head held high, Sabina marched across the room and opened the door, stepping into another large room that seemed stuffed to the brim with cabinets and trunks and suits of armor. One entire wall was covered in a variety of battle weapons, decorated shields and standards, all bearing that image of the black tree on the white field. Sabina pulled a face. It seemed the De Crecy family would be in no danger of forgetting their family crest.

Hearing a footfall behind her, Sabina turned about to see Sir Jeffree had followed her. Walking to a large armoire, he unlocked the doors and drew out a small truckle bed. Then he opened another door and extracted a pile of blankets which he slung on top of it. “Here,” he said briefly.

This, she realized, was to be her bed. “Who usually sleeps in here? Your servant?” Sabina asked, curious despite herself.

“No one,” he replied. “Osborn sleeps in the servants’ quarters when we stay at Ganford Chase.”

“So, this room is for all your possessions, then?” she asked, startled at such a large room being used for that purpose alone. She had not realized Sir Jeffree had his own rooms at the duke’s residence. Though perhaps she ought to have, considering he must have been the heir for over twenty years.

“You flatter yourself,” he replied with a curl of his lip and stalked back out. Sabina stared after him, puzzled a moment until his meaning trickled through. Of course, he would think she should be honored to belong to him, she thought, slowly shaking her head. Pompous ass!

Sabina spent a couple of minutes making up the cot, though in truth, it could be no later than six o’clock. The bed felt as though it would be comfortable enough to sleep in, though it was rather narrow. It was only as she twitched the last blanket into place that she heard a knock and Sir Jeffree answering his bedroom door. Though she lifted her head, she could make out no words of the murmured conversation. The door shut again, and she heard his footsteps advancing.

“They will serve us our supper up here,” he said coldly from the doorway. You will join me at the table next door.” It was not a request, but an order, and he turned sharply on his heel after issuing it and disappeared. Reluctantly, Sabina straightened up. It was not as though she had a better occupation for her time, and besides, now she thought about it, she had not eaten for several hours.

This and this alone was what prompted her to walk back into his bedchamber and drop down into one of the seats at his table. Sir Jeffree was stood staring down at the unlit hearth, one hand resting on the mantel. He did not turn when she entered. He did not acknowledge her in any way. Sabina cast her eyes around the vast room, with its impressive views over the duke’s extensive grounds.

Moments later the door was knocked again, and Sir Jeffree lifted his head to shout, “Come in!” Three servants appeared carrying a variety of dressed dishes. As they were set down, Sabina guessed they were a sample from the fancy wedding banquet that had been planned for this evening. Would the rest of the duke’s guests be dining in the Great Hall even now? Despite the fact there was no bride or groom to sit in the positions of honor?

Jeffree came and sat opposite her for their meal and indicated the servant should serve them wine. Sabina’s stomach rumbled as she gazed upon the fare. He did not dismiss the servants once the dishes were set out but seemed instead to expect to be waited on. If it seemed strange to Sabina to be waited on by three servants when dining privately in your own bedchamber, she held her tongue and tried to ignore the servant stood silently at her elbow.

When she drank down her goblet of wine rather fast, it was silently refilled without her having to ask. The first course was a loin of veal covered with some kind of rich sauce, gilted plums, and pomegranate seeds. Jeffree scraped the plums and seeds from his meat and ate it with an expression of acute dislike, but Sabina tucked in hungrily. Unsurprisingly, the duke’s cook was first-rate; she did not know when she had ever eaten such luxurious foods.

The second course was a dish of creamed fish served with glazed root vegetables in a carmeline sauce.

“Must everything served from my uncle’s kitchen be drenched in sauce?” Jeffree asked irritably. “It makes the dish well-nigh unpalatable.” He threw down his knife and demanded more water be added to his wine.

In Sabina’s opinion, it was almost wicked to add water to such a delicate and fragrant wine, but she supposed Jeffree was privileged to the point he thought it nothing special. The next course was a fine mature cheese served with round, thin, fried crackers dusted with saffron and a jelly crafted into the shape of a fowl and decorated with real feathers.

Jeffree’s mouth grew pinched and tight when he saw the elaborate jelly and he waved this away and partook only of the cheese and crackers. “Is there no bread?” he demanded, and when the servant made as though to go and fetch some, he bade him irritably to stay where he was.

Sabina tried a mouthful of the jelly and found it filled with berries and flavored with nutmeg. To her surprise, it was delicious with the cheese. “This jelly is wonderful,” she said aloud. “You should try it. You would not expect it, but it really compliments the cheese.”

Sir Jeffree sent her a withering look and did not bother making any reply. Sabina turned to the servant hovering nearby. “Please present my compliments to the cook.” The servant bowed and refilled her goblet. How many had she had now? She had better make this her last one or she would be growing far too outspoken. She did not know why she was bothered to speak to him at all, save that it seemed a little awkward to sit through an entire meal in stony silence with servants present.

The final course was stewed pears in rosewater drizzled in honey. Jeffree eschewed this sweet course altogether, demanding more watered wine, and quit the table, striding to the window where he stood with his back to her as Sabina finished her bowl of pears.

“That was truly delicious,” she said setting down her spoon once she had finished. “Thank you.” The servants responded with bobbed heads and wan smiles as they finished tidying away the dishes.

“I shall expect my bath in the next half hour,” Jeffree said over his shoulder as they bowed their way out of the room and shut the door behind them. Sabina could only guess at the additional strain the household staff must be under with so many guests staying with them at present. The De Crecys could not be an easy clan to accommodate.

“You can retire next door now,” Jeffree said aloud, still not deigning to look in her direction. Rude beast. Sabina pushed back her chair and rose without a word, making her way into his storeroom. She supposed she would be brought some water to wash at some point. Then again, perhaps not. Carefully removing her wimple, she set the pieces of crisp white linen down on top of a flat-topped trunk and then unpinned the coiled braids from about her ears.

She had just set her hair pins down beside her headdress when she heard the door knock next door and murmured voices. It must be His Highness’s bath, she thought sourly. She was just unlacing her cuffs when she heard the rap on her own door.