Page 62 of Paladin's Faith

“I promise that I shall seek her out immediately and make amends for any insult that was given. He did not understand that you were only seeking a dance partner for her.”

“Mmm.” Sir Lawrence, clearly aware of the watching crowd, took the out that Marguerite offered. “I question your judgement bringing such a creature here, madam.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” said Marguerite, with a sigh. “Thank you for your mercy, Sir Lawrence.” She curtsied deeply to him, rather more deeply than was required for his relatively low rank. “I am grateful for your forbearance. As he will be, once I explain it to him.”

Sir Lawrence sniffed haughtily and let his hand drop from the sword hilt. “Very well. See that it does not happen again.” He turned and stalked away, like a disgruntled wading bird. The crowd began to disperse, clearly disappointed in the lack of further bloodshed.

“I caught something about bears,” said Shane. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.” Marguerite shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s get you out of here before you cause another diplomatic incident.”

They made their way toward the ballroom doors, pausing just long enough for Marguerite to get the name of the young lady who had been so dreadfully embarrassed. Unfortunately, word of the incident had clearly spread at lightning speed. Quizzing glasses were in favor this year, and so many people were peering through them that Marguerite felt as if she was moving through a sea of grotesquely magnified eyeballs.

Dammit, I don’t dare run away from this. I’ve got to nip this in the bud or my name will be all over the keep by midnight.

Hating the necessity, she slowed her steps, stopping to chat with acquaintances, and doing her best to present the image of a woman who was not in full retreat.

It was Davith who came to their rescue. He intercepted her on the way out, full of apparent good cheer, and insisted that he bring her a cup of wine. Even though her feet were in agony, she accepted, while Shane tried to make himself look smaller, with no great success.

“So Lawrence tried to pick a fight with your boy there?” murmured Davith in an undertone, passing her the wine.

“Yes, indeed,” she said quietly. “I’m hoping the fortress guard doesn’t come down on us for unlicensed brawling.”

Davith was too aware of the eyes on them to wince visibly, but she heard the indrawn breath. “Well, I suppose we should fix that.”

“I’d like nothing better.”

“Simplicity itself.” He glanced at Shane and said, apologetically, “I’m sorry for what I’m about to say.”

Shane shrugged philosophically.

“Lawrence was how drunk?” Davith roared, at top volume, and burst out laughing. “You’re not serious!”

“Drunk as a lord,” Marguerite confirmed, not quite as loud, but still in a carrying voice. She could practically hear ears pricking up all around them. She giggled into her wine. “And dragging the most unfortunate girl about, and then…” She waved a hand at Shane, who stared straight ahead, looking stolid and unimpressed.

“God’s teeth, he thought she wanted to dance with your bodyguard? This oaf?”

“I know!”

“I mean…” He slapped Shane on the back. “You’re not bad looking, my good man, but can you even dance?”

“I can do the Winter Dance,” said Shane, more slowly than usual, “if I have a goat.”

Oh, Lady of Grass… She had no idea what he was going to say next. Davith, however, had an unholy light in his eyes. “A live goat, or a dead goat?”

“Either works.”

Davith’s laugh this time was genuine, although Marguerite suspected that she was the only one who could tell the difference. “My god, Marguerite, where did you find this specimen?”

“What, and have everyone wanting one?” She scoffed. “Anyway, Davith, do be a dear and make certain Sir Lawrence is feeling better, will you? As much wine as he must have had…well, just tell him that no one holds anything against him, will you?”

“Of course, of course.” He waved her off, and called the next words, deliberately, across the space between them. “At least I’ll make sure he gets to his room and his valet can get his boots off.”

She blew him a kiss and herded Shane from the ballroom, feeling somewhat like she was the one guarding him, and down the hall. It was not until they were most of the way back to their section of the palace that she finally relaxed. “Ooof. What a mess.”

“I apologize,” said Shane immediately. “I should not have—”

“No, no, no.” She shook her head. “You did very well. He was trying to get you to agree to a duel.”