kept busy meeting with the weavers who would work under her supervision on The King’s Joust tapestry. Four of them were men, who eyed her uncertainly, but the three female weavers appeared delighted to be led by Nora. One was a former nun who had come to the court after the dissolution of the monasteries. Another, Peg Horner, gave Nora a winning smile and proclaimed that she had known William Brodie during his time as one of the royal tapisiers. Peg declared that if Mistress Lovejoy was Brodie’s daughter, that was a fine endorsement.
Returning home late that afternoon, Nora felt a mixture of satisfaction for a day well spent and hope for the evening ahead. Was it possible that Lennox might be on his way to London, even now? Perhaps not, for Grant had confided that there were plans afoot to match Lennox with a young noblewoman who was a favorite of the Duke of Hastings. Although Grant insisted that Lennox felt uneasy about this match, he could not assure Nora that Lennox would refuse.
Perhaps he was with that other woman now. He might have changed his mind and wouldn’t come to London at all. Or perhaps he was coming to tell her himself that he had settled into his new life and he planned to wed another. Would he ask her to release him from their handfasting vows? It wasn’t necessary, of course. No one in England would pay any attention to the simple ceremony that had bound them together, almost by accident.
She sighed, wishing she had never let herself think about Lennox and the beautiful lady who might be on his arm at that moment, miles away at Greythorne Manor.
Inside the little house on Cockspur Court, Nora found Joan Farthing holding her basket and petting Samuel, the cat. “Hello, mistress,” said Joan, a smile softening the lines of her pointed face. “I was just telling Samuel here that I’m off to the fish seller to see if they’ve gotten more fresh oysters. If you don’t mind, I will stop to visit my sister on my way back.”
“Of course I don’t mind. Enjoy your time with your sister.”
“Oh, mistress, I nearly forgot.” Joan opened the parlor cabinet and took out a folded message. “This came for you a short time ago.”
When Nora was alone, she stood beside a small mullioned window and looked at the letter. Mistress Nora Brodie, Cockspur Court was written in an ornate hand. Perhaps it was from Lennox, for who else knew her true name? Her heart began to pound. Breaking the seal, she unfolded the paper and read,
My beloved, I will soon be kissing your sweet lips.
Listen for my knock at your door.
Your own, Lennox.
Heat flooded her cheeks. She stared at the paper, trying to imagine him writing those words with a swan’s quill. Every part of her seemed to come alive with joy, anticipation, and arousal. Was it truly possible that soon they would be together in this very room?
After setting out a flagon of wine, goblets, and a dish of cheese, nuts, and figs, Nora rushed up the narrow steps to her bedroom. Off came the plain woolen dress she had worn to Whitehall Palace that day. Quickly, she washed at her basin and donned the cornflower-blue gown Lennox had liked best. It fit more snugly than in the past, and her breasts strained above the laces of her bodice. Should she tug the neckline of her chemise higher, for modesty’s sake? Nora looked in the mirror and shared a secret smile with her own reflection. Realizing that there was no need to hide any part of herself from Lennox, she felt like a woman again, for the first time in many weeks.
She was brushing her long curls when a knock sounded downstairs. For a moment, her heart stopped. Listen for my knock, he had written. Her feet scarcely touched the steps as she descended to the parlor, fumbled with the bar, raised it, and threw open the door.
When Sir Raymond Slater stepped into the room, Nora felt raw fear. Samuel the cat hissed and hid behind the chair.
“What are you doing here?” Nora asked. Sensing that she could be in real danger, she kept her tone even.
Slater pulled the door shut and replaced the heavy bar. Over his doublet, he wore a wide-shouldered, fur-trimmed jerkin that made him appear even more formidable. “I thought perhaps, by now, you might be ready to listen to reason, pet.”
“I have not changed my mind,”