In the great hall, the guests were seated separately from the resident monks, and Chetwynd guided Isabel to a place among the lords and ladies. Aware of the continuing attention of several diners, Isabel was too nervous to eat much. One fashionably dressed woman kept staring at her and whispering to another guest. Isabel wondered if the fact that she had not changed her gown for dinner was the cause of all the attention.
Becoming impatient with the scrutiny, Isabel stared back at the woman. “I feel I should have taken more care with my dress, my lord. But that is no reason for people to stare in a rude manner.”
“It’s not necessary to wear finery when traveling. Don’t concern yourself,” he replied and followed her eyes. He groaned inwardly when he recognized Lady Pacilla.
“I suspect the lady in the purple gown does not agree with you. Do you know her?”
“Yes. That is Lady Pacilla. Her opinion is of no consequence,” Chetwynd answered. He knew that Isabel’s gown was not the cause of Lady Pacilla’s curiosity. A friend of the queen, she was no doubt eager for information about Isabel that she could pass on to as many people as possible.
Although Isabel longed to ask Lord Chetwynd how he knew the elegantly dressed woman, she held her tongue. Her eyes widened as it occurred to her that the lady might be Chetwynd’s lover. She dismissed the idea, as Lady Pacilla appeared curious but not upset. Perhaps she was a friend of Chetwynd’s lover.
Lady Pacilla stood up, arranged her purple gown to hang attractively, and headed in their direction. She moved along the tables, stopping a few times to greet people she knew. Finally, the smiling lady headed for Chetwynd. He stood to return her greeting, and after a brief, awkward moment, he turned to Isabel. Chetwynd introduced his wife, repeating the words he had used with the abbot.
Lady Pacilla’s expression made it clear that word of Chetwynd’s marriage hadn’t reached her ear. Her smile disappeared, and she stared at Isabel in silence. She did manage to recover her poise, but her smile did not return.
“Pardon my surprise, Lady Isabel. Our friends at court will be astonished to find Lord Chetwynd wed. Most of us were sure he would never marry.” She turned to Chetwynd as though she expected some explanation for his behavior.
Isabel decided Lady Pacilla, for all her finery, wasn’t much different from a few of the village women with whom she was acquainted. They, too, were always on the lookout for some tale to spread. When Chetwynd remained silent, Isabel decided to plunge into the waters of social discourse.
“I think Lord Chetwynd rather enjoys surprising people, Lady Pacilla. But that’s what makes him interesting, don’t you think? Imagine how dull it would be if there were no secrets to learn about a man.”
Shivering a bit at her own daring, Isabel smiled brightly. She hoped she hadn’t offended Chetwynd. Once she started to speak, the words flowed from her mouth of their own accord.
Although Lady Pacilla seemed at a loss for a reply, Chetwynd had found his voice. “Do give my best wishes to Lord Lassiter, Lady Pacilla. It was a long journey and Lady Isabel is tired. I must see she gets her rest. Please excuse us.”
Concluding with a bow, Chetwynd grasped Isabel’s arm, pulled her up from her seat, and led her from the hall. Once outside, he released his grip and walked ahead of her in silence.
Isabel rubbed her arm where he had held it. Hoping to head off angry words, she said, “I’m sorry I embarrassed you, Lord Chetwynd. I found Lady Pacilla’s manner provoking, but I should have held my tongue.”
“You didn’t embarrass me,” he uttered in a strangled voice. “You did just fine.”
It took a minute for Isabel to realize he was struggling to keep from laughing. Shocked, she stared at his twitching mouth and wondered if the man might have a sense of humor. If so, he had kept it well concealed.
“Then why did you drag me away from the table?” she asked.
“To tell the truth, I was afraid of what you might say next. Lady Pacilla is indeed a most provoking woman, and you did well to stand up to her. It’s the only way to deal with her.”
Chetwynd suspected Isabel was waiting for him to elaborate. The attention their marriage was attracting, as well as her reaction to it, made him realize he needed to confide in her. But he wasn’t sure how to begin. He told himself it could wait until he knew her a little better.
The silence between them continued until they neared the guesthouse and Isabel spoke up. “Marianna tells me we are expected to share a room, my lord.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. There were many things to do upon our arrival at the monastery, and I was caught off guard by the arrangement. I couldn’t think of a reason to request separate quarters. This is something new for me. Having a wife, that is.”
It made him nervous to even say the word, and he was glad they were still in the dark. He hesitated at the entrance to the bedchamber, and then added, “Next time I’ll be prepared, but I’m afraid we’ll have to share the room for tonight. I will walk around outside for a while to give you a chance to settle into bed.”
To ease his concern about the matter, she reassured him that she understood. “I am tired, my lord. I imagine I will be asleep when you come back, but I’ll leave a candle lit for you.” Chetwynd nodded. It had occurred to him that she might be upset at sharing the bedchamber, but once again she seemed to take the situation in stride. When he noticed her pause in the doorway, he spoke again. “Sleep well, Isabel. I will
