Page 116 of An Inconvenient Vow

“And now you look superior and aloof,” Sabina told him briskly. “You only seem to have two moods.” Then she remembered his look of bliss as she had collapsed on top of him the previous night. Well, maybe three, she amended conscientiously.

When Hugo cleared his throat, they both turned their heads remembering his presence. “If you will excuse me now, cousins, I must be about some urgent business this morning.” He stood and bowed to Sabina, then nodded at Jeffree, before sauntering forth with a merry tune on his lips.

Sabina found herself fervently hoping he was not off to spread more gossip about court.

24

Jeffree took himself off after their refreshment to oversee Osborn’s progress packing up his armor and jousting equipment and Sabina spent an uneasy morning walking between the three reception rooms designated to the De Crecy family. They were cluttered and stuffy, and though Sabina flung the windows open, it did not much help and she longed to escape outdoors.

From the glimpses she had of the cultivated gardens to the palace, however, she realized it differed vastly from her own beloved countryside. Gazing down at the groups of elegant ladies drifting about the winding paths, she realized that at court, even walking about the grounds was regarded as a public display of one’s person. No one was unaccompanied, and Sabina got the impression that a solitary woman marching up and down the walkways would be considered an oddity.

Then too, there was the concern she might be mistaken for a servant again. Sabina sighed. She ought not to have refused Jeffree’s repeated offer of new clothing. That had been a mistake. How much easier things would have been for her if she had simply had a couple of elegant gowns made up for occasions such as this.

Lately, though, he had not renewed the offer, as though he had simply accepted that she preferred her shabby old dresses and would not be moved on the subject. She supposed she would have to steel herself to reopen the matter on their return home.

Jeffree did not return at midday, and Sabina was just trying to settle with a book of poems she had found when a knock on the door had her sitting up straight and craning for the sound of Wilton’s soft tread as he answered it. She heard the murmur of voices and then Wilton was clearing his throat at the doorway to the sitting room she currently occupied.

“My lady, the Queen has sent for you.”

Sabina blanched. “For me?”

“Indeed, my lady. She hath sent an emissary to collect and escort you to where she is gathered with her ladies at the south arbor.”

Sabina hesitated, but a royal page had appeared in the doorway and was making his bow, his fashionable scalloped sleeves almost scraping the ground. Given little choice, Sabina followed him along the corridor and out into the well-maintained gardens. They proceeded down a long walkway flanked with hedges that had been cut into all manner of shapes, mostly birds, skirted a fountain. and then came upon a lawn flanked with flowerbeds and a backdrop of trellises. This was where the Queen was set up in her outdoor court beneath a flowered archway, sat upon a luxuriously plush seat, and eating fruit.

All the other ladies were sat on much lower couches or footstools, or even blankets, and were grouped and bent industriously over what looked like shared needlework. The page twirled his sleeve. “Behold the Queen’s Court of Love and Beauty” he intoned cheerfully.

Sabina quickly scanned the group but found she did not recognize a single soul present. Her shoulders relaxed and she followed the page right up to the Queen and sank down into her lowest curtsey.

“Arise, Lady de Crecy,” Queen Armenal said looking her over with bright, curious eyes. “Will you take a seat at my court and perhaps some refreshment?” She gestured toward a low table covered with dishes of dainty-looking foods and goblets of wine.

Sabina looked the plump low seats over with surprise, for to her they resembled nothing so much as a large collection of satin-covered footstools. She made for the one that looked most in the shade from the afternoon sun, only for the Queen to throw up a hand in protest.

“Do not sit all the way over there, for I would have some speech with you,” the Queen said frowning. With some reluctance, Sabina moved closer. When she lowered herself onto the uncomfortably slippery couch, it occurred to her that perhaps the Queen liked to have the other ladies at court sat at a much lower level than her.

She gazed back at the Queen with a blank expression.

“I had Baroness Kentigern brought to my Court of Love and Beauty this morning, but sadly, the Lady Kentigern, she does not embroider, and her ambitions they all seem to center around her husband.” Queen Armenal sighed. “Which was so disappointing to me as she was such a revelation after the jousting, such refreshing openness, such honesty!

“How she enchanted me, and I thought how amusing it would be to have such an artless creature in my retinue. But then today, when she attended me at court, she barely opened her mouth, and I could get nothing out of her. I was amazed to find her so quiet, so dull!”

“Mayhap she was overwhelmed to find herself among such exalted company, Your Majesty,” Sabina ventured, realizing some response was expected of her. “I expect your ladies’ needlework is, too, of the highest quality and she felt daunted by it.”

The Queen shrugged. “Such a pity, but I suppose with her upbringing she has not been raised with all the accomplishments expected of a born lady. Now you, Lady de Crecy, I expect have many such arts at your disposal.”

For some reason, Sabina felt herself flush at Queen Armenal’s words. There was something about their intonation that discomforted her.

“You are fond of embroidery, Your Majesty?” she asked as colorlessly as she could manage.

“Me? No, for I am royalty,” the Queen answered dismissively. “It is not expected that I should ply the needle. At least,” she added thoughtfully, “it was not expected in my brother’s court in the Western Isles. My husband’s cousin, Lady Una, was raised in the northern court, and it was expected of her that she should do the sewing of the garments. But then... northerners!” She shrugged eloquently.

Sabina gazed about at the many ladies all so industrious sat around them. “I can embroider a little, Your Majesty,” she confessed, “but my sister’s skill is far superior to my own.”

“Your sister?” The Queen’s ears pricked up. “Now, pray tell me, is this the sister who was to marry the Duke of Ganfordshire?”

Sabina’s heart sank. How on earth could the Queen know about Isemay’s betrothal? Unless Cousin Hugo had been talking. “It was the Duke of Bethencourt,” Sabina corrected her, “though it seems that will now come to naught.”

“Your sister must be a great fool, I think,” the Queen said impartially. “It is good she has some skill with a needle to fall back on as she has no intelligence.”