London—Palace of Westminster
FERAND GLANCED AROUND the hall, too nervous to eat. Hundreds of people had gathered for the meal. He’d thought the great hall at Kinwick was large and served many at a time but he couldn’t imagine how busy the royal kitchens stayed with so many mouths to feed.
“The roasted chicken not to your liking?” asked Sir Francis Wykeham, seated to his left.
He shrugged and took a bite from the leg he held in his hand. The meat was dry so he washed it down with the wine before him.
“How long do you plan to stay in London?” his new acquaintance asked.
“I haven’t decided. I have business to attend to.” Ferand paused. “And I’m thinking of taking a wife again.”
Wykeham nudged him playfully, a wicked gleam in his eye. “There are a bevy of beauties to choose from, de Montfort. I’d be happy to introduce you to a few.”
Ferand knew nothing about this man but his gut told him not to trust anything that came from Wykeham’s lips.
“No need to trouble yourself, my lord. If I decide to wed, I can find a suitable bride on my own.”
The knight nodded. “I find women to be too much trouble. Bedding them? Aye. Wedding them? I think not.” He reached for his goblet and took a healthy swig before glancing around the room. “Dancing will start soon. Do you dance, my lord?”
“Sometimes,” Ferand said testily. Already, he was bored with the man’s company and felt overheated in the crowded room. Standing, he said, “I think I will get a bit of fresh air.”
Wykeham chuckled. “Good luck with that. London’s air stays foul most of the year, which is why the royal court often travels to other palaces such as Windsor Castle. And the king enjoys going on summer progress.”
Ferand nodded politely and left the table. He took his time, navigating the room, looking at various females that interested him. He stopped a moment to study an interesting woman with golden hair and pale blue eyes.
Suddenly, he sensed someone on his right and turned. A female of at least two score stood next to him. Their eyes met and Ferand knew nothing much would get past this noblewoman.
“I suppose you’re here to find a wife,” she said testily.
“What? No small talk, my lady? Aren’t we supposed to converse about the weather or tonight’s overcooked chicken?”
“We could prattle all night if you wish, my lord,” she quickly responded. “But gossip only goes so far and I bore easily.” Looking him up and down, she offered her hand, which Ferand took and kissed as he introduced himself.
“I am Lady Rose, chief lady-in-waiting to Queen Isabella. I have been at the royal court my entire life. You have that hungry, lean look about you, much like a wolf. I assume you’re looking for a bride.”
“You are correct, my lady,” Ferand said smoothly. “My wife died in childbed and I seek another in order to have an heir.” This woman could be useful to him and he had no wish to alienate one who carried the power she did.
“Give me your rank and tell me what you are looking for in a woman,” she said briskly.
“I am Ferand de Montfort, Earl of Kinwick, Lady Rose. My estate lies three days’ ride to the southwest of London. It is large and the land’s very fertile, so I can forego a huge bridal price.”
She snorted. “So that tells me the plain girls with huge dowries are out. You’ll want a fair bride. A pretty little thing who will keep her mouth shut and run your castle with efficiency.”
“Looks aren’t as important to me as a zest for life and a curious mind,” he said, noting the arch of her brows at his bold statement. “Of course, I won’t turn down a bride with beauty but I’m looking for a woman with enthusiasm and intelligence. A dash of courage wouldn’t hurt.”
“Someone to make a life with,” she said thoughtfully. “A woman who challenges you.”
“Exactly.”
Lady Rose studied him a moment. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, Lord Ferand. You aren’t simply a large, handsome man. You have . . . substance.”
He heard approval in her voice.
Slipping her hand through the crook of his arm, she said, “Walk with me.”
By now, the meal had ended and musicians had arrived and began to tune their instruments. He moved around the periphery of the room with Lady Rose, seeing how everyone bowed their heads, respectfully acknowledging her presence. When the dancing began, she stopped.
“We’ll watch tonight. You won’t dance,” she instructed. “See who catches your eye. I will inform you if they possess any of the many qualities you seem to think you want in a woman.”
Ferand patted her hand. “In my wife,” he corrected. “And I know what I want, my lady. My first wife was chosen for me. The match proved disastrous. This time, I alone control my fate.” He would disregard any meek, quiet women Lady Rose might point out for he wanted one full of fire and spirit. A woman worthy of the title of Countess of Kinwick.
“As do I, my lord. You need an insider’s views to help you make a fortuitous match.” Her triumphant smile told him she was exactly right.
He nodded graciously and began viewing the women in the room. Some partnered with men and danced. He studied not only those but others who stood in conversation. Every now and then, he would bend and speak a word or two into Lady Rose’s ear. She would look at his choice and add a few words of her own.
Flighty.
Irresponsible.
A questionable character.
Impatient.
A few she actually complimented.
Witty.
Kind.
One who puts others at ease.
Then Ferand caught sight of a woman who caused his heart to pound as she was led onto the dance floor. She moved with ease and grace. Her oval face was framed with hair as dark as midnight. She was almost as tall as her partner and her deep red kirtle fit snuggly, showing curves in all the right places.
He pressed his lips close to Lady Rose’s ear. “The tall, dark-haired one. In crimson.”
Ferand watched as the noblewoman scanned the dance floor. He knew the minute she caught sight of the woman he’d inquired about. The corners of the noblewoman’s mouth turned up in a satisfied smile.
“An excellent choice, my lord,” she murmured. “This is one girl I will be happy to introduce you to.”
Lady Rose waited till the music died down and the beauty’s partner escorted her away from the center of the room. Ferand missed how she did it, but Lady Rose somehow signaled the man. He led the noblewoman directly to them.
“Lady Rose.” He bowed, kissing her proffered hand. “My lady,” he said to his partner, bowing and leaving them.
“I have someone I wish for you to meet, my dear,” Lady Rose said.
Ferand’s heart raced as the woman offered him her hand. His lips brushed her fingers, sending a streak of fire through him.
“Lord Ferand is Earl of Kinwick,” the older woman said. “His property is vast and he’s actually a man who’s not only brave but has intelligence, as well.”
The beauty gave him a trace of a smile. “My, ’tis the highest of compliments, my lord. Lady Rose can be somewhat stingy with them. You must have impressed her a great deal.”
He still held her hand in his as Lady Rose said, “Lord Ferand de Montfort, may I introduce to you one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting? This young woman is Lady Elia de Wolfe.”
Her mesmerizing green eyes held him spellbound for a moment. Finding his voice, he asked, “Are you a relation of The Wolfe of the North?”
She nodded. “Sir William de Wolfe was my great-grandfather.” Her head cocked to one side. “I hear a hint of the south in your voice.”
“Kinwick Castle does sit in the south, my lady, but even we have heard of the exploits of The Wolfe. Both my father and grandfather told stories of his daring and talent with a sword. According to them, England has never produced a greater knight.” He paused. “And you seem to have received the legacy of both his good looks and intelligence.”
Lady Elia frowned. “How can you judge my intelligence?” she asked, a displeased edge in her voice. “We have only met.”
“Your eyes betray you, my lady. They haven’t missed much in our conversation and I doubt you miss much of anything that occurs in a room.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “I find intelligence both alluring and appealing.”
Ferand brought her hand to his lips again and pressed a fervent kiss against her fingers, finally releasing her. Already, he felt bereft at the loss of physical contact between them.
“It was most pleasant to make your acquaintance, Lady Elia,” he said with as much charm as he could muster. “I hope I will see you again during my stay at the royal court.”
He turned to Lady Rose. “Thank you for a most interesting evening, my lady.”
With that, Ferand turned and sauntered away. He could feel Lady Elia’s eyes boring into him as he retreated from the room. Abruptly leaving her presence was the hardest thing he’d ever done but he wanted to pique her curiosity so she wished to learn more about him.
Their game of cat and mouse had begun. When it ended, Ferand planned on making Elia de Wolfe his wife.