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“O f course, Constance always was a perfect fool.” Penelope Culmington’s words rang out, her voice carrying over the Great Hall.

It seemed to Gunnilde that everyone turned to look at their party as they stood on the threshold, flushed and triumphant from Hal’s win. Then the whispering started, rising up toward the rafters in a great swell.

She would have come to a complete standstill if not for James, who had swept her resolutely along with him to a nearby table.

“What’s to do now?” Kit whispered, clambering onto the bench opposite. “Why’s everyone agape?”

“It can’t just be my victory, can it?” Hal asked, glancing around. “No one’s even calling out their congratulations! What’s wrong with them all?”

“Simply everyone is staring!” Gunnilde muttered, reaching for bread roll to crumble between her nerveless fingers. Penelope’s words had sent a thrill of warning down her spine. Constance, she had said. Why had they been discussing Constance? Her glance at this point happened to fall on Cuthbert.

His unwavering gaze seemed to hold some message, unnerving her. “Cuthbert?” She faltered. “What is it?”

“You must take heart, my lady,” he said, and it sounded like a warning.

Gunnilde’s heart sank down to her flimsy slippers. “Why do you say that? Whatever do you mean?”

At this moment, Neville came hurrying across the hall toward them. He had left directly after the Revels to go and visit the Portstanleys instead of coming back to their rooms. He was out of breath and red-faced by the time he sank down on the bench next to Hal.

“You will never believe what has happened!” he uttered hoarsely. “Farleigh hath returned to court with the Lady Constance and they are seeking an annulment of their marriage!”

Gunnilde gasped. “But why?” she burst out in shock.

Neville leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“No one knows for sure, but the rumor is they reached the lady’s estate with their union still unconsummated.

Then, on arrival, her uncles persuaded her the marriage was naught but a mistake and dragged them back to court to make a formal appeal to the King. ”

Gunnilde felt a pang for Sir Douglas. Really, it was too bad of Constance not to stand firm in the face of such opposition! But then, perhaps her uncles had bullied or browbeaten her into it. She hoped she was not in too much distress.

“What’s all this to do with us?” Hal asked, looking puzzled.

James cleared his throat. “Very little,” he said. “I was betrothed to Lady Constance at one point. She eloped with Sir Douglas, and I married your sister. Kindly pass the ale jug.”

Hal’s expression cleared. “Oh, like that, is it?” He seized the ale jug and shoved it in James’s direction.

“I know Farleigh, of course. Saw him take the Newcomer’s Cup at Areley Kings last year.

They say he’s shown a lot of improvement since Kentigern took him under his wing.

He’s always been good on a horse,” he added judiciously.

“Bet he feels a fool being dragged back to court like that by his in-laws,” Kit remarked. “I would.”

“Poor Sir Douglas,” Gunnilde murmured, thinking of his unwavering devotion to Constance. This must be quite a blow for him. Neville looked across at her and gave a quick shake of his head, as though in warning.

At her surprised look, he tipped his head in James’s direction but when she looked toward her husband he was draining his ale cup. Neville coughed apologetically. “They say her uncles are insisting that her former betrothal is legally binding.”

James slammed his cup down. “I am sure by now they must have heard of my own subsequent marriage, nullifying that.”

“Aye, that’s true enough,” Hal reflected. “They cannot possibly remain in ignorance of it. Not now they’re here at the palace. Somone’s sure to have told them.”

“Mayhap they think two annulments could be procured as easily as one,” Cuthbert suggested.

Gunnilde’s heart thudded. Two annulments? Her head reeled. She cast a quick look toward the high table but neither the King nor the Queen was in attendance tonight. Could Constance’s uncles have approached them already?

For some reason she could not bring herself to look at James.

What if his expression betrayed some emotion she could not face?

Like hopefulness. At this point a platter of quails and larks with jelly was slammed down on their table.

Gunnilde’s stomach turned over and she realized she would have no appetite tonight.

It was two courses later that an attendant appeared at Gunnilde’s elbow, presenting her with a letter. She took it with thanks and turned it over to peer at the seal.

“What’s on that crest, an eagle?” Kit asked, proving to have very sharp eyes.

“It’s a martlet,” Cuthbert answered without removing his eyes from his plate.

“A martlet?” Hal repeated. “Does not Farleigh’s shield feature—?”

Neville elbowed him, and her brother cut off his words as an embarrassed hush fell over the table.

“Sir Douglas and I were formerly on the most cordial terms,” Gunnilde said with dignity. “No doubt he feels himself in need of a friend.”

“Why not open your letter and find out?” James asked. “If he requested it to be delivered to you in person, he must consider it a matter of urgency.” He did not look at her but kept his attention on his plate of roast boar.

Gunnilde hesitated, then reached for the note, breaking it open and scanning the page. The note was short and to the point.

Mistress Payne, it began. I find myself in a situation most dire and could do with your wise counsel. Could you meet me in our usual appointed place? I will be there waiting when the clock strikes midnight in the chance you can slip away. I remain your obedient servant, D. Farleigh.

Gunnilde flushed. What could Douglas be thinking?

She had never before met with him at such a late hour, and though they had met several times in the knot garden, there had always been other courtiers strolling about the nearby pathways.

At midnight there would be no one in the vicinity.

Such a meeting would be highly improper.

Taking a deep breath, she passed the missive sideways to James, trying not to look as guilty as she felt. He took it from her and perused it with a flinty expression. Seeing his eyebrows shoot up, Gunnilde took an anxious gulp of wine.

“He refers to the knot garden,” she said her words almost falling over each other. “We used to meet there sometimes, to talk about, well, you know, his feelings .” She threw him a look of appeal. “He—he must be heartbroken and quite desperate about his current predicament.”

“He expects you to sneak out of our rooms under the cover of darkness,” James said in a biting tone. “No doubt while your husband lies in blissful ignorance, sleeping.”

“No! I—I don’t think he can realize I am married!” Gunnilde broke in. “Only see how he addresses me as Mistress Payne!”

“Or mayhap he simply does not choose to acknowledge it,” James replied in freezing tones.

“Well, I never dreamed Farleigh was such a saucy knave,” Kit marveled, lowering the letter.

Gunnilde realized with horror they must have been passing it about the table. She made a grab for it. “Indeed, he is not!” she huffed.

“Hie! I never got to read that!” Neville complained as she snatched it back.

“You misunderstand the situation entirely!” Gunnilde insisted, ignoring her brother-in-law’s chagrin.

“I don’t know about that,” Hal said sternly. “But no sister of mine is going to be sneaking off to clandestine meetings in the middle of the night, and so I shall tell him! Who’s with me? He’ll get the shock of his life to find us waiting for him at midnight instead!” he concluded grimly.

“Sorry to spoil your plans, Hal,” James interrupted firmly, “but I think you’ll find Gunnilde’s husband is the correct person to deal with this, not her brother.”

Hal deflated slightly. “Oh, er, yes,” he acknowledged grudgingly. “I suppose that is so. You’re sure you don’t want our aid in the matter though? Only we’re quite ready and willing.”

“Quite sure, thank you.”

“Well, how are you going to go about it?” Neville demanded. “You can’t just ignore it!”

“No,” Hal agreed when James did not answer immediately. “Though Farleigh would feel pretty silly sat waiting in vain in the dark, freezing his ballocks off. It’s damned disheartening when a girl does that.”

“Speak from experience, do you?” Neville asked slyly. Hal ignored him.

“What are you going to do, Wycliffe? Challenge him to a duel?” Kit asked hopefully.

“Of course he is not!” Gunnilde answered hotly. “James is far too sensible to act so rashly. There is not the smallest need for—”

“Quite the contrary,” James answered, cutting her off. “Instead, Gunnilde is going to write back, inviting Sir Douglas to meet instead in our rooms at a more civilized hour.”

Gunnilde gasped. “James,” she said, grasping his arm, “that is really most handsome of you.”

“Of course,” he answered coolly. “Is that not what everyone says of me? James Wycliffe, the handsomest man in the realm.”

Gunnilde regarded him with sudden misgiving. Was it just a trick of her ears, or did his words sound faintly bitter?