Thomas snorted. “Paste, most likely. In any event, one of the tinkers, a man of at least six feet tall, caught him by the scruff of the neck, and had I not intervened, I would be one brother shorter today.”
Griffin smiled wryly, putting down the knife and taking a sip of wine. “Even then Thomas was rather renown for his oratory.”
Thomas grinned and Griffin remembered that long-ago day. The sudden fear, the complete relief and gratitude when his bigger, older brother had come to his rescue. He looked down at his plate, nudging the knife with his fingertip. That time seemed centuries ago now.
“How old were you?” Hero asked softly.
He inhaled and looked up, meeting her far-too perceptive eyes. “Nearly twelve.”
She nodded and the conversation moved on to a piece of gossip Miss Picklewood had heard.
But Griffin was silent, contemplating that past when he and Thomas had been so close.
And the present when they were so very far apart.
Chapter Nine
Queen Ravenhair looked at the offerings of her three suitors and nodded regally. “Thank you,” she said, and led them into the dining room where she turned the conversation to other matters.
But that night as Queen Ravenhair stood upon her balcony, the little brown bird flew to the railing. She took the bird into her cupped palms and saw that he had a string about his neck, and at the end of the string was a small iron nail.
And then she smiled. For her people used nails to build their houses, and that—her people and their homes—was the foundation of her kingdom….
—from Queen Ravenhair
Hero stared at herself in her dressing room mirror the next afternoon and wondered what sort of woman let her fiancé’s brother make love to her. The woman in the mirror looked the same as she remembered—widely set gray eyes, neatly coiffed red hair, steady, serene gaze—everything in place, in fact. But somehow she was different than the person she’d thought herself just a week before. That woman—that Hero—would never have sinned, would’ve scoffed at the mere suggestion that she might.
And yet she had.
Hero lightly touched a curl at her temple.
“It’s quite lovely, my dear.” Lady Mandeville’s voice broke into her thoughts.
Hero glanced down at herself. Yards of shimmering pale silk apricot swathed her form, pulled back in front to reveal a cream underskirt embroidered with green, blue, and pink posies. The embroidery continued along the seams of the dress and framed the deep, round neckline. It was indeed a lovely dress.
Why, then, did she feel like weeping?
“You do like it, don’t you?” Lady Mandeville inquired. “We can have it remade or have an entirely new one made if you don’t. There’s still time before the wedding.”
“No, no,” Hero said quickly. “It’s a lovely dress. The seamstresses have done a wonderful job.”
The little woman kneeling at her feet flashed her a grateful smile before bending again to the hem.
She’d always known who she was, Hero reflected. A lady of principles. A woman with compassion and a few ideals, but one who had a level head on her shoulders. She’d always prided herself on her common sense. Yesterday had been a very sad blow to both common sense and the image she’d had of herself. She was four and twenty—a mature number of years. One would think by now that she’d have a firm grasp of who she was.
Apparently not.
“There,” the head seamstress said, sitting up. She eyed the hem critically. “We’ll take that up and then add some lace to the sleeves and bodice. It’ll be very fine when we finish, my lady, never you fear.”
Hero dutifully pivoted to eye the dress from the side. Such a perfect dress. If only the woman inside was as perfect. “I’m sure it will be very nice.”
“We’ll require three more fittings, I think. May we call upon you next Tuesday morning, my lady?” The seamstress and her helpers were already extracting her from the dress.
“That will be fine,” Hero murmured.
“I shall come to that fitting as well,” Lady Mandeville announced. “We can discuss the family jewelry and what pieces you might want to wear.”
“Of course.”
Hero met her own eyes in the mirror as the seamstresses worked around her. Calm and gray. She’d committed a sin. She wasn’t sure she could ever resurrect her perfect facade again. She should be wracked with guilt and despair and yet… and yet, doing what she had done with Lord Reading yesterday had felt fundamentally right.
Soul-deep right.
That feeling was perhaps the most disturbing thing of all.
It took another half hour to dress again. Lady Mandeville chatted lightly as Hero made her toilet, and if the older lady saw anything odd about her future daughter-in-law, she made no sign. The seamstresses left after carefully packing away Hero’s wedding dress, and then Lady Mandeville rose as well. She drew on her gloves, watching as Wesley crossed the room to fetch a jacket for Hero from the wardrobe.
“Are you sure you like the dress, my dear?” Lady Mandeville said softly.
Hero looked at her kind face and had to blink suddenly. She didn’t deserve this wonderful woman as a mother-in-law. “Oh, yes.”
“It’s just”—Lady Mandeville touched Hero’s shoulder lightly with one finger—“you seem rather melancholy this afternoon.”
Hero smiled, pulling the crumbling shards of her facade about her. “Bridal nerves, I expect.”
Lady Mandeville looked uncertain, but in the end she nodded. “Of course. But if you would like to talk to me about anything—anything at all—well, I do hope we’ll have that sort of a relationship.”
“I hope so too,” Hero said in a rush. How she longed to confess all her doubts and worries! But Lady Mandeville would no longer look at her quite so kindly if she knew how Hero had deceived her son. “Thank you.”
Lady Mandeville gave one last tug to her gloves. “Good, my dear. I’m glad. Now, don’t keep Thomas waiting too long. I know he expects to take you driving this afternoon.” So saying, the lady bid her farewell and left.
Hero donned a pretty green jacket with Wesley’s help.
Wesley stood back to admire her work and nodded, satisfied. “My Lord Mandeville will be quite taken with you today, my lady.”
Hero smiled slightly. “Thank you, Wesley.”
She descended the stairs and found Mandeville already waiting for her in the sitting room.