Eleanor had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. Everything that had happened with Hugh, every word that had been uttered, had turned around and around in her head.
Lord above—he’d known about her involvement with the outlaws all this time and said nothing. Stupidly, she had been consumed with jealousy at the thought that his head might have been turned by other women. But, no, it was far more serious than that.
She closed her eyes and took in a huge breath of much-needed fresh air just as she heard footfalls nearby and someone coughing, clearing their throat. She opened her eyes to see that Lord Balvoire had approached. Her heart sank.
Now, what did he want at a time like this?
‘My dear Lady Eleanor, I didn’t get a chance to greet you properly yesterday. You left the hall so unexpectedly,’ he said, bowing over her hand and pressing his slimy, wet lips on it.
She ignored his jibe and resisted the temptation to wipe her hand on her skirts. ‘Lord Balvoire.’ She inclined her head and got up, not wanting to be seated whilst the odious man was standing over her. ‘You find me here alone this morning.’
‘I hope that I am not intruding on your reverie, my lady?’
She wanted to say that indeed he was, and that his presence was unwelcome, but instead she said nothing, hoping her silence would be enough of a hint that she did not want his company.
Annoyingly, the hint went over his head and he moved closer to her instead. She saw his skin pockmarked and lined, this close up.
‘And why are you alone this morning, my lady?’
‘I’m waiting for my husband, Lord Balvoire, so if you don’t mind...?’ She’d said the first thing that had popped into her head.
‘Mind? Why should I mind, my dear? Your forbearance does you credit—especially after the demise of your last husband.’
‘Thank you.’ She swallowed uncomfortably, feeling her stomach turn at the mention of Richard Millais.
‘I hope you don’t think I’m prying, my dear, but I couldn’t help but notice your distress in the hall last night. I’m sure all is resolved, but one never knows with these soldiers and their wandering ways. I daresay it’s the young, handsome ones the most. They do seem to be popular at court.’
Eleanor could tell he wanted to gain a reaction from her. ‘Again, I thank you for your concern, my lord, but I really must be going,’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘I thought you said you were waiting for Lord Hugh?’ He raised his brows. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t leave on my account.’
‘I assure you, I’m not.’
‘Good, good...because I nearly forgot to tell you how desirous the King is to meet you.’
Eleanor felt bile rise from the pit of her stomach. ‘Naturally I would be very honoured.’
‘I’m sure you would. And now I will leave you,’ he said. ‘We cannot be seen together like this without a chaperon or people will gossip.’
He chuckled at his own jest and gave her a leering smile that made her want to hit him. God, he was insufferable.
‘You are right, Lord Balvoire. Good day to you.’ She inclined her head, stepping away, but he stilled her.
‘Ah, what a charming necklace, my dear.’
He reached out and held her mother’s cross in his palm, his fingers grazing her skin. Saints in heaven, if he continued this behaviour for much longer she really would end up hitting him.
‘It was my mother’s,’ she said curtly, pulling her necklace from his grasp. ‘I always wear it.’
His eyes narrowed as he met her cool gaze. ‘I know...’ he said, smiling as he took his leave of her. ‘Until later, my lady.’
Lord Balvoire left just as Hugh walked towards her, inclining his head stiffly as he passed the slimy fish.
‘What did that obnoxious goat want?’ Hugh asked.
‘And a good morning to you.’
‘Good morning, Eleanor.’ Hugh frowned. ‘That pompous ass puts my hackles up. Be wary of him.’
‘On that we agree.’ She gave a small shiver.
‘So, what did Balvoire want that he sought you out alone?’
‘Nothing.’
‘More secrets, Eleanor?’
‘No, Lord Balvoire was being his usual charming self, and let’s just say I was very glad that you came upon us when you did.’
‘I see. Come, let’s walk.’
Heavens, but this was awkward.
They walked in silence. Eleanor nervously stole sideways glances at her husband as they walked through the beautiful castle gardens. He looked outwardly calm, if a little pale, but his jaw was set hard and his movement was rigid and agitated.
‘We have an audience with King John, Eleanor.’
He said it without any emotion, making her suddenly feel anxious. The tone of his voice was somehow ominous.
‘He’s apparently desirous to meet you.’
Ah, it had finally come to this...
It seemed that Hugh had finally made his mind up. One of the many unsettling things that had kept Eleanor up all night had been wondering what her husband would do about her. Well, now she knew. He was handing her over to King John.
Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt sick with the fear that was taking hold of her. But this wasn’t the way to address adversity. Her father had taught her that much.
The thought of him brought a lump to her throat that she quickly dispelled. Eleanor was a noble lady, from a noble family, and she had to carry herself as such. So she pushed away the uneasiness and panic she felt, held her head high, made her back as straight as a quarterstaff with as much dignity as she could muster and walked on.
She fell into step with Hugh and contemplated the fate that would await her, accused of being a traitor in the eyes of the King. But to Eleanor, it was Hugh’s eyes, his views and opinions, that mattered the most.
She had wanted to tell him about Le Renard, and her reasons for her part in the band of outlaws, but
