Eleanor stared at the tender cuts of meat on her trencher and her stomach flipped. Her hunger could not be abated as the fine food she ate was tasteless and the expensive wine bitter.
It was a reflection on everything that she had gleaned since her arrival in Winchester—especially when she considered the obvious wealth on display. When she compared it to the poverty and destitution in Tallany, and throughout the kingdom, it outraged her. She couldn’t wait until they were able to leave and travel back north, but when that would be was anyone’s guess.
Since their arrival yesterday John had conferred with Hugh briefly, along with all his other noblemen, knights and vassals. The King was understandably furious, since London was now in the grip of the Rebel Barons and was proving to be a matter of great consternation and anxiety for him.
Secretly, Eleanor was elated at the triumph and success of the Rebels, and shared with them the hope that this might prove to be the impetus needed to finally make the King sign the Great Charter of Liberties.
Eleanor hadn’t realised she had been staring, when she caught the King’s eye. He raised his brows and his silver cup in toast to her. His lips flattened into a mocking thin line and he held her gaze until she inclined her head in a perfunctory deferential bow. He too inclined his head, then looked away and spoke with the man sitting next to him.
Eleanor expelled a huge breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and tried to calm her nerves by sipping the rancid wine, her hands shaking in the process. She shuddered and spotted her husband from afar, talking and exchanging pleasantries with a small group of courtiers who were probably acquaintances he hadn’t seen since his surprise marriage.
She observed him from under her lashes as his peers slapped him on the back and shook him by the hand. And she also watched in dismay as the women in the hall followed Hugh’s every movement, all stopping to talk, simper or flirt with him.
Since her arrival yesterday they had eyed her speculatively, as though she were a curiosity, and Eleanor realised that this was partly because everything about her was different. The way she dressed, the style of her headdress, even the way she spoke, and not to mention her court manners, were at odds with the way these people believed an heiress should behave.
And all this awkwardness and misery was compounded by Hugh’s indifference towards her.
Eleanor noticed a pretty young woman with brilliant blue eyes who was being particularly friendly with her husband. She hung on his every word, repeatedly touched the sleeve of his tunic, smiled and laughed at everything he said. They certainly seemed to be well acquainted with one another. Oh, yes, her husband was indeed popular...
And, yes, Eleanor was indeed feeling the first stirrings of jealousy. A strange, unfamiliar emotion that she had never felt before. She chided herself for feelings that were beneath her, telling herself she preferred not to complicate matters with these futile emotions. She’d also prefer that she was far, far away from this awful place.
Her searching gaze found William Geraint, who had just come into her peripheral vision. He seemed to waver between staying where he was or coming to speak to her. Fortunately for Eleanor the pleading in her eyes must have convinced Will, as he gave her a single nod, said something privately to Hugh and walked over to sit beside her.
He wasn’t smiling in his usual easy manner, and something about that unnerved her. Was it her imagination or was Will also behaving differently towards her now? He didn’t seem to be his usual, jovial, witty self. Or was she allowing her anxiety about Hugh to colour every single judgement and thought?
Really, now, this wasn’t like her. She was The Fox, for goodness’ sake!
‘Lady Eleanor, I trust you have had a good day?’ he asked, quite formally.
‘Yes, thank you. But to be honest I have been keeping myself to myself.’
Will’s brow furrowed. ‘I understand from Hugh that you do not care too much for court.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s more that I don’t know anyone here, Will. I feel like an outsider.’
‘Then why you did come here, my lady?’ Will asked, without humour.
‘I ask myself that every day.’ She shook her head before continuing. ‘I thought it a good idea at the time, but I was wrong. Very wrong.’ She rubbed her forehead, feeling the first strains of a headache.
Will sighed. ‘If it helps, Eleanor, I can present you to some ladies of the court whom I think you may like. Not everyone is unfriendly here,’ he said, sounding more like his old self.
‘Thank you, Will, that’s very kind. But I believe that is my husband’s responsibility—not that he seems to realise that.’
They both turned their heads to watch Hugh, engrossed in conversation, laughing at something the blue-eyed beauty was saying.
Will regarded her for a moment. ‘You care for him, don’t you?’ he said quietly.
Eleanor was too choked to reply, and continued to look at nothing in particular, her chest feeling painfully tight.
‘I just don’t understand what is wrong with Hugh. He seems so different here from the man I knew in Tallany,’ she muttered absently.
Will covered her hand with his, giving it a squeeze. ‘I cannot say, Eleanor, but for what it is worth I believe my friend cares for you too,’ he said. He held up his hands, anticipating her response. ‘The only way through this impasse is for you to talk to one another—and soon.’
Hugh was bowing at the young woman, who curtsied in response, giving him a coquettish look before she moved to the centre of the room, evidently readying herself to perform for the entire assembly. He nodded at the young woman
