Hugh stared at her for a moment. Zounds, did she strike a point close to his heart. ‘Twas almost as if she had read his mind. “Until someone proves me wrong, Milady,” he drawled, “I shall continue so. It has stood me in good stead until this very day. And,” he continued, “it will carry on as such.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So, I shall, by your leave,” he intoned sarcastically, “arrest Osbert at the assize—but as befits a gentleman whose mistress is loyal to him.”
Eleanor drew in her breath sharply. Was he not going to be as cruel as she feared?
Hugh tilted his head and gazed at her. “Fear not for your dear Osbert,” he said, “but I shall get to the bottom of this poaching matter, whate’er it takes. If Osbert produces the criminals at the assize, then all the better. I shall, of course, question my own chief forester John de Bretton as well. I shall be evenhanded in my justice,” he finished.
Evenhanded! He tried to keep the frustration from his tone, because he knew well that if he wanted to marry her sister Mary, he would have to try and appear to Eleanor in the best light possible, despite their disagreement about this poaching matter, or Eleanor would not agree to such a betrothal. She might prefer that Mary go to France than to marry him. That could not happen.
Eleanor wanted to snort. Evenhanded! This arrogant bully? She marshaled her thoughts, however, and tried to put forth a demeanor of strength and composure.
“I shall, then, be allowed to question your chief forester John, as well? May I be given the same leave you are taking with Osbert?” she asked sweetly. She looked into his eyes for a moment, but then she swallowed hard. The frosty blue seemed to hold her hostage, and she could not—no, she dare not—succumb to their pull. She looked down at her hands, pretending to adjust the sleeves of her surcoat.
Hugh narrowed his eyes at her. “Aye,” he agreed gruffly, “but know you not that he will unwillingly answer questions from a woman?”
Eleanor lifted her chin. “I am a countess,” she said, “and thus he must accord me respect and answers—and answer me, he will.”
She had mettle, Hugh conceded. Not many women would take on the challenge of questioning a hardened chief forester. But perhaps it was her stubborn streak that made her answer so. In truth, he rather liked the way her green eyes flashed when she was angry. Would they flash thusly if he were to hold her in his arms? Cease that, he scolded himself. Here he was, about to ask for the hand of her sister in marriage!
“You speak true,” Hugh said. He shrugged. “So be it. At the assize, then, we shall distrain our chief foresters, the one to the other, and question them. But, with good fortune,” here, Hugh paused, and his eyes gleamed in mischief, “perhaps we shall first discover whose reputation is being put to shame, and then we can piece out who is responsible.”
Was this condescending knave toying with her? Eleanor wondered. Was he speaking out of the two sides of his mouth? What did he mean by “reputation put to shame”? Was he suggesting that Osbert and she were…? She tried not to blush, and she merely nodded, but she could not help tightening her mouth in aggravation.
Hugh noted her pursed lips and wondered if he had gone too far with his double entendre. She was clearly intelligent, though not a woman of the world by any means. Sometimes he just could not stem his own impulsivity and toyed with whomever he was speaking.
“As you say, sire,” Eleanor said, forcing herself to speak with an even tone and look directly into his eyes, even though doing so made her heartbeat accelerate. “In a month is the assize, and, God willing, we will have more information. I know that my chief forester Osbert will bend every energy to finding out more about the damaged reputations, as I am sure yours will, as well. Perhaps we will not have to arrest and question each other’s chief foresters.”
“Humph!” Hugh snorted. Then, remembering his other concern, regarding Mary and a possible betrothal, he smiled, hoping to dissuade Eleanor from any further ill-temper. But, he noted, she was even more beautiful when she was angry. ‘Twas a good thing her sister was beautiful as well. Perhaps her beauty would charm away the thoughts of Eleanor that haunted him, the thoughts of holding her close, gently stroking her upturned face on the pillow…
“As you say, Lady Eleanor,” he agreed. He clasped his hands behind his back and strode back and forth in front of her. He cleared his throat. “I have another concern to speak of with you.”
Eleanor almost cringed. What would this arrogant man say next? She took a deep breath and steeled herself.
“I have come also to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage,” Hugh said.
Chapter Nine
“You will not be able to pacify your heart, and instead, you will set off again to see whether by chance you can glimpse what you desire so greatly.”
- Le Roman de la Rose, 13th c.
Eleanor gasped audibly. “What?” she exclaimed. Thoughts reeled through her mind. Hugh—and her sister? This could not be! “What did you say?” she repeated. Hugh took a step toward her, and, without thinking, Eleanor backed away, trembling.
“I am honoring you with the question of asking for your sister Mary’s hand in marriage,” Hugh repeated. God’s bones! Eleanor looked as if she had seen a ghost! Was he that bad of a catch? Did she hold that much antipathy towards him?
“But—but, why?” Eleanor asked. She clenched her hands into fists again. Hugh—and Mary?
