“Since the morrow will be longer now we wait on my sire’s arrival, I would save the escape of sleep for that night rather than this.” He took her arm.
Nicola was tempted to resist, but lest she come to the notice of De Warenne and his men, she turned back and, as she did so, glanced at the D’Argent men.
She had their attention. It had taken weeks to restore her to her family, and they would not risk losing her again, whether by her own devices or those of a young man who sought to practice courtship on her—or less admirable intentions. Though she did not think they would move against the prince unless provoked by untoward behavior glimpsed in the shadows, still she wished she were not under such close watch.
She lowered to the bench alongside the youth and was pleased he released her.
“We met before all this. Do you remember, Lady Nicola?”
“I do.”
“Do you know how I remember?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I do not.”
“My brother, Robert, thought you quite pretty.”
Even more arrogant than Richard—worse, annoying. But then, he was the oldest of William’s sons and destined for greater things than the others. And knew it well.
“I agreed you were pretty,” Richard continued, “and said perhaps father would give you for my wife when I became a man.”
“Oh!” she chirped. “Well, I am…was…er, would have been flattered, Richard.”
He gave a grunt of laughter. “Non, you would not have been. I was young, but even then I could see you were not like other girls. Because you were a D’Argent, my mother said.”
On which too much she prided herself.
He sighed. “Robert was quick to remind me you were nearer his age and, as firstborn, he had a right to whatever I wanted. Though slow to understand my place, better I had begun to grasp his mind, and so I said he could have you and no regret would I suffer, especially if you silvered the same as your brothers. While he frowned over that, I added it was one thing to wed a woman a few years older, quite another to live one’s younger years with a wife so silver of head she looked our grandmother.”
Lightened by the conversation’s turn, Nicola waved a hand before her face. “Do I look your grandmother?”
“Far from even my mother.” Richard leaned near, and she saw there was a slant to his serious mouth. “Methinks you all the more lovely for those silver strands, Lady.”
“Ah, but ere I am two score aged, it will be more than mere strands.”
He shrugged and drew back. “Still, I do not think it will be unbecoming.”
In that moment, Nicola decided she liked him, and not because he flattered her—though perhaps a little. Regardless of his sire, arrogance, and wish for her to waste her life at court, he had tender places about a mischievous heart that, were it possible to preserve them into manhood, might make him a worthier ruler of England than William. Of course, to attain that position, he would have to outlive Robert.
She angled toward him. “What was your brother’s response when you yielded me?”
“He said he but teased his baby brother who was so gullible he did not know the future King of England and Duke of Normandy would require a lady of highest birth and perfect youth and beauty.”
“I would have liked to have been there.” Nicola nipped her lip. “Tell me you do not still consider I would make a good wife for you.”
He thought on it, then said, “I might wish it in the moment, but I am acquainted enough with my conceit to know it requires a match with one who returns my feelings, not one who…”
She touched his hand. “Who what, Richard?”
“I have watched you, Lady. I have seen your pain and fear, and the lean of your body toward the corridor down which one must travel to gain the cell where Vitalis is held.”
Despite the dim, she saw the furrows of his frown.
“I think you must love him, and that is an ill thing since I fear my sire’s judgment will be worse than harsh. But even in loss, still methinks you will love the Saxon rebel.”
Nicola lowered her eyes, but the tears were in her voice. “I must find a way to free him.”
“I know, just as I know there is little chance of it, even do I tell my sire Vitalis spared my life.” He took from his purse something exceedingly familiar. Here