“I will not let on that I know of this love betwixt you.”
“No need to. I shall tell her this evening. As you should tell Lance.”
She nodded, then squeezed the back of his hand. “This time I shall not disappoint you.”
She started to leave and then turned back. “Do any of the servants know?”
“Why ask you this?”
“So I am fully aware of who I may speak frankly in front of.”
“James and Mary. They know. At least, I am presuming so.” His lips tipped up in a slight grin. “They intervened in a rather amusing way when Isabel and I had a slight misunderstanding.”
She nodded, although she could not believe all that had transpired as she lounged in her bed. “I am thinking it would make a good tale one day.”
“It would indeed.”
She waved toward his desk. “I will leave you to your planning. And I thank you, Arthur, for your honesty and your . . . compassion.”
“And I thank you, as well, for your honesty this day. I wish you happiness, Gwen. I truly do.”
“I know. I wish the same for you.”
ARTHUR closed the door behind Gwen, because privacy was something he craved as he pondered all that had just been said.
“I will take ‘The Most Happy Man in Camelot at This Moment’ for a thousand, Alex,” he whispered.
“Who is King Arthur?” he answered himself. “Correct!”
He shook his head, smiling, as he unrolled the parchment. “Isabel, my love, you have most certainly made me batty.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ONCE again, Gwen found herself outside of a door, ready to knock. It simply baffled her, the sense of humility she had learned to possess, just since the morning. This day had been trying, fun, enlightening, heartbreaking, and it was not even half over.
She heard laughter behind the door and hesitated.
“He did not!” she heard a young female voice say. “You jest.”
“I kid you not. And then he attempted a kiss.”
That voice she easily marked as Isabel’s.
“After tossing a toad down your bodice?”
Gwen seriously doubted the two were discussing Arthur. Though he loved a good jest, a toad in a woman’s bosom did not sound like his sense of fun.
“It was his way of showing affection, I suppose,” Isabel said. “After all, we were eight at most.”
“It sounds to me, lady, that his attempt at courting was somewhat misguided.”
“You think? I thought it such a loving gesture.”
The two women again broke into laughter. Gwen almost hated to ruin the mood. But more, she had hopes she would be included in the enjoyment.
She knocked.
As she feared, the laughter ceased instantly.
“Come in,” Isabel called.
Gwen opened the door and stepped through. The two were seated on the floor and Isabel was doing a staining thing on Mary’s toes. Half were painted a rose color.
“I am sorry to interrupt,” she said.
Mary scrambled to her feet and curtsied. “Your Highness!”
“Please sit, Mary,” Gwen said, “do not let me interrupt . . . whatever that is you are doing.”
Isabel smiled at her. “We are experimenting with ways to make Mary the prettiest she can be on the night of her vows ceremony.”
“May I join you? And please, Mary, resume what you were doing. I am quite curious of this fun.”
Isabel smiled at her. “Of course you may. The more the merrier, right, Mary?”
Mary glanced nervously between them. Gwen nodded. “Sit, Mary. As a matter of fact, I was hoping you would be here. We have a wedding to plan. And I am very interested in watching and learning this practice.”
Mary said, “I will sit when you do, Your Highness.”
“Would you like to wager upon which of us manages to sit our backsides down first?”
Mary giggled, and Isabel laughed, which for some reason did Gwen’s heart good. She had taken time to ponder all that had occurred this day, all that she had needed to face about herself, about all that she had to do to make things right.
Finally she thumped down onto the floor and waved Mary down.
“Please, sit.”
“May I get you anything, Your Highness?”
Gwen looked to Isabel. “Is it just me or does this ‘Your Highness, ’ ‘your Countess,’ ‘your whatever’ tend to get old?”
Isabel looked at her, and the smile that lit her face made Gwen’s heart proud. “It gets pretty tedious, indeed,” Isabel agreed.
“Just Gwen, okay? At least amongst us girls. I understand the reluctance while others are around, but here, now, it is just Gwen.”
Mary appeared horrified. “Oh, I could never.”
Isabel rolled her eyes at Gwen. “It took me days and plenty of threats. She will give in eventually.”
Gwen smiled. She was not angry at Isabel. How could she be? Arthur had been right. Her anger at his infidelity was hypocrisy at its most severe. And she loved her husband enough that after the hurt and anger came the realization that he was such a good man and deserved a woman worthy of him.
Her question to herself had been, would she take back all that had happened . . . that she had made happen . . . to save the life she lived? The answer was no. She could no more take back her love and attraction to Lance as she could reach out and bring down the moon.
“I would love some wine, Mary,” she said.
“There is some right here,” Mary said.
“No!” Gwen said, rising again. “I shall pour for the two of you. And for me, of course.”
As she rose, Gwen witnessed the astonished glances exchanged between the two women, and smiled to herself. She was enjoying this immensely. “Please, explain to me this toe-staining thing.”
“It is simply a fun thing,” Isabel said. “It makes a woman’s toes prettier.”
“Where did this come from? Did you bring it from Dumont?”
“Actually, no, we had to experiment until we had the formula right. We colored water with flowers, then we added corn starch to make it sticky enough to adhere.”
“Adhere?”
“Stick,” Mary said. “So that it will dry and remain upon the nails.”
Gwen returned and handed Isabel a goblet, and then held out the other to Mary.
Mary looked to Isabel who nodded. “Just this once and just a little. Just because this seems like we are having a girls’ day this afternoon.”
Mary smiled and accepted the goblet. “I thank you so much, Your—”
“Gwen. And as I am your queen, you must needs listen to what I ask. I ask that you call me by my given name. As you do Countess Isabel.”
Isabel stared at Gwen, who smiled back at her.
Oh boy. She didn’t know how Gwen had learned, but in her gut she was absolutely certain Gwen had learned.
“You know,” she whispered.
