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C aria wasn’t paying any attention to the lady who had just entered the hall.

She knew who Adelaide was, at least distantly, because she had seen her in the past when she’d come to visit Thomas.

But her glimpses of the lady had been brief, as Lady Adelaide didn’t like children and made no attempt to speak with the child.

Whenever Caria had come to Wark, Adelaide always made herself scarce.

Therefore, Caria didn’t know the woman and didn’t really care that she didn’t know her.

Now that Jordan had cleaned up the sleeve that Thomas had so grievously dirtied, the child was happy once more and darting back around the table to sit with Thomas.

In doing so, however, she cut right in front of Adelaide as the woman made her grand entrance into the feast. Amidst the layer of smoke in the hall, the stale warmth, and the heady smells of steaming beef, Adelaide presented herself as a proper, demure lady until a child dashed in front of her and made her trip on the hem of her gown.

Then, the real Adelaide made a swift return.

“God’s Teeth,” she hissed, grabbing hold of her father to prevent herself from falling. “There are wild animals loose in the hall this night. Who is that little beast?”

As Jordan and William cringed, Thomas was on his feet. Caria came right up to him and he put his hands protectively on the child’s shoulders as he faced Adelaide.

“This is my sister, Caria,” he growled. “If you’d taken the time to come to know her, you might recognize her. As it is, you will not call her a beast again or my displeasure shall be known. Is this in any way unclear?”

Adelaide’s eyes were wide as her father, Edmund, cleared his throat loudly to cover for his daughter’s faux pas.

“It is dark enough in the hall that she might not have recognized her even if she knew her,” he said, which wasn’t much of an apology. “It is dangerous for children to run about. Dangerous for the child, I mean.”

Thomas looked at Edmund. He was a tall man who had been muscular in his youth, but now he’d gone completely to fat.

He was bald for the most part, with what hair he had long past his shoulders and gathered at the nape of his neck in a stringy tail.

As Thomas knew when the betrothal to Adelaide had been broached, Edmund de Vauden, Earl of Northumbria, was a cousin to the king, descended from Robert Curthose, but that impressive lineage had worn thin the moment Thomas became acquainted with Adelaide.

No lineage in the world could make up for what she lacked.

“This is a de Wolfe hall and as long as it is a de Wolfe hall, my sister may run about as she pleases,” Thomas said. “She is welcome here and welcome to do anything she wishes.”

William, seeing that Thomas was verging on serious disrespect for Northumbria, stood up and went to Edmund and his daughter.

“No harm done,” he said, diverting Northumbria’s attention. “Caria is well, Adelaide is well. Come, let us sit and feast. Sit next to me, Edmund, so that we may converse. Your lady daughter may sit on Thomas’ right hand.”

Thomas could have killed his father for that direction but, in truth, it was Adelaide’s proper place at his table, as his betrothed.

Without another word, he sat down, pulling Caria onto his lap as Adelaide came to sit next to him.

He made no move to help her by pulling out her seat; he simply focused on Caria as the child reached for a bowl of fruit.

Incensed that she was being ignored for a mere child, Adelaide sat down without any attention whatsoever from her intended.

And that set the mood for the rest of the meal.

Servants emerged from the shadows, bringing Adelaide a trencher of beef and vegetables.

There was fresh bread and butter on the table, along with stewed apricots and other smaller dishes to choose from.

Usually, it was both polite and customary for a man to serve a woman food at his table, especially if they were betrothed, but Thomas completely ignored Adelaide in favor of Caria, who was starting to chatter about the dogs that were milling around the hall and wanting to know if there were any puppies she could play with.

Unwilling to give Adelaide any attention, Thomas used Caria’s dog-chatter as an excuse to leave the table. He stood up with the child and led her away from the table, over towards the hearth in search of puppies, leaving an open seat between Adelaide and Maitland.

It was a big, insulting gap, as Adelaide now sat all alone.

As Thomas wandered away with Caria in-hand, Maitland watched him go. In fact, she had witnessed the entire scene, from the brusque young woman entering the hall to Thomas’ rather harsh words. Having no idea who the woman was, and having not been introduced to her, she leaned over to her brother.

“Who is that woman?” she whispered.

Desmond sighed heavily, leaning around his sister to see Adelaide there, sitting all alone, clearly unhappy that she had to butter her own bread.

“Lady Adelaide,” he muttered. “Be careful of her. She is a nightmare.”

The comment concerned Maitland, but not because she was concerned for Adelaide and what the woman was capable of.

She was concerned that the woman was being treated poorly by Thomas and even Desmond, which didn’t sit well with her.

Even though she didn’t know the woman, she didn’t like the idea of her brother being nasty to her.

“The poor woman is all alone,” she hissed to her brother. “Why are you not speaking with her?”

“She is a beast. I will not speak to her.”

“Of course she is going to be a beast if everyone is being cruel to her.”

Desmond rolled his eyes, seeing that his sister clearly didn’t understand the situation.

She hadn’t met Adelaide before and therefore didn’t know her for what she was.

That being the case, Desmond took his life in his hands as he opened his mouth to speak to Adelaide.

Perhaps if his sister had a demonstration of the woman’s behavior, she might understand that Adelaide was nothing to be trifled with.

“Lady Adelaide,” he said, leaning in front of his sister to catch Adelaide’s attention. “I would like to introduce you to my sister, Lady Bowlin. She is on her way to Kelso to assume charge of their foundling home at Edenside.”

Adelaide turned to look at Maitland as if only just seeing her for the first time. Her dark eyes appraised Maitland openly, looking her up and down as if determining if she was worthy to speak to.

“A foundling home?” she said, disdain in her voice. “What on earth for?”

Maitland remained polite. “I am a Beguine, my lady,” she said.

“My husband was killed two years ago and I have devoted myself to the service of the church. I seem to have some talent when it comes to children, so I am being sent to Edenside to tend the foundlings there. It is quite rewarding, I find.”

Across the table, Jordan was watching the exchange very carefully.

“Lady Bowlin has some very good ideas for teachin’ the children a trade,” she said.

“She can teach them tae knit, or tae make cheese from sheep’s milk, or even soap.

I seem tae recall that ye sew very well, Lady Adelaide.

Everyone should have a skill tae be useful. ”

Adelaide’s brow seemed to be perpetually furrowed as her attention moved back and forth between Jordan and Maitland.

“Of course I can sew,” she said. “But it is not a trade .”

There was great disgust in her tone as she said it. Maitland was coming to see even from the short conversation that the lady was somewhat disagreeable. “Did you sew the dress you are wearing?” she asked. “It is quite beautiful. It took great talent to make it.”

Adelaide looked down at her surcoat, an elaborate creation made from blue silk and a good deal of colorful embroidery.

“My maids sewed this,” she said. “I would never sew a dress for myself. Why should I when I have an army of women to do it? But you are correct; it is quite lovely. And expensive. I have many garments just like it.”

Now, Maitland was coming to understand what her brother had been trying to tell her. Adelaide seemed quite disagreeable and unfriendly no matter what the subject, and she didn’t see much use in continuing the conversation.

“You are quite fortunate, then,” she said, turning back to her food. “It was very nice to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

She picked up her spoon with the intention of finishing what was on her trencher, but Adelaide didn’t seem to understand that the conversation had been ended. Her attention was fully on Maitland, even as the woman practically turned her back on her.

“Why did you commit yourself to the church when your husband died?” she asked. “I should think you would want to find another husband right away.”

Maitland put her spoon down and politely faced her again. “I have no interest in marrying again,” she said. “Moreover, my husband did not leave me with a great fortune and a prospective husband would require such a thing.”

“What about your father? Surely he will provide for you.”

“My father is dead, but he had even less than my husband did.”

The conversation lagged as Adelaide seemed to take a second look at Maitland, dragging her gaze all over the Beguine, scrutinizing her worn clothing. It was clear that she was judging based solely on appearance. Then, she looked at Desmond.

“You should have brought her to me before you permitted her to feast in the hall of a de Wolfe,” she said. “She is not appropriately dressed.”

“She is wearin’ the proper clothin’ for her station,” Jordan spoke up, her disapproving gaze on Adelaide. “If anyone has a right tae speak on improper clothin’ in the hall of de Wolfe, ’tis me, and I say she is properly dressed.”

It was a rebuke, turning Adelaide’s pale cheeks a dull red. She was embarrassed. “I simply meant that I would have loaned her a dress, my lady.”

“Did ye, now?”