Ranulf hesitated, torn between leaving this woman who’d once hurt him so deeply and offering her his sympathy, for he remembered well how it felt to be alone and friendless. “You’re hardly an old hag, Celeste. You’re still one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, and you’re far from ancient.”
“Spoken like a man who loves another, younger woman,” she said between sobs.
“What would you have me say?” he replied. “I do love another and yes, she is younger. That is not going to change. But you are hardly without resources.”
Her hair disheveled, her bed robe gaping to reveal her thin white shift and the breasts beneath, Celeste wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “May I at least stay here until I can make arrangements to go elsewhere?”
He had not the heart to refuse her. “Very well.”
She gave him a sorrowful look that once would have made him do anything she wanted. “Thank you, Ranulf,” she said, putting her hands upon his shoulders.
He started to pull back. “Celeste,” he warned. “Don’t.”
“I’m not going to bite you, Ranulf,” she murmured, holding him firmly as her bed robe came undone and fell open. “I only want to thank you. A kiss of gratitude and nothing more.”
“I knew it!” Maloren screeched from the doorway. “Scoundrels and liars, the pair of you!”
AFTER LEAVINGCeleste, Beatrice was determined to go straight to Ranulf until it occurred to her that might be precisely what Celeste wanted: that she go to Ranulf when she was angry and upset and accuse him until he got angry, too.
Even if Ranulf had returned from the village—and she wasn’t sure he had—she wasn’t going to fall into Celeste’s trap.
Nevertheless, she yearned to talk to someone. If Constance had been in Penterwell, she would have run to her. Her cousin always knew what to say to make her feel better, or offer her sound advice. Unfortunately, Constance was far away in Tregellas.
Maloren was out of the question. Indeed, Beatrice fervently hoped Maloren never heard anything about Ranulf making a wager that required him to deflower virgins. That he would do so was ridiculous, of course, but Maloren would surely believe it and waste no time telling everyone she met.
So Beatrice went to visit Wenna, and soon sat holding little Gawan on her lap, tickling his chubby chin. “Oh, isn’t he a handsome fellow?” she cooed.
Seated on a low stool nearby, working with her drop spindle, the young woman, who was only a year older than Beatrice, smiled. “I think he’s a pretty boy, but then, I’m his mother.”
“Oh, trust me, he’s a very handsome baby,” Beatrice assured her. “How areyou, Wenna?”
Wenna sighed and stared at the spindle. “Well enough, my lady.”
As her son reached up to tug at Beatrice’s necklace of simple glass beads, Wenna suddenly regarded Beatrice intently. “Did he mean it, do you think, my lady? Will Sir Ranulf really make my boy a page?”
“I think that if Sir Ranulf said it, you most certainly can believe it,” Beatrice replied. “Nor could your son have a better master. Why, Ranulf has made the garrison of Tregellas the most admired in the whole of England for their skill and discipline. One day, they’ll say the same thing about the garrison and knights of Penterwell, you’ll see. And,” she added with significance, “once people start to hear that and know it for a fact, there’ll be few places safer to live.”
“I hope you’re right, my lady.”
“And then perhaps the merchants will come with wares that are rare so far from London. You should see some of the garments Lady Celeste has brought with her.”
“Tecca says she’s very lovely. You’re not…?”
Although Wenna’s voice trailed off, Beatrice could easily guess what she was wondering about. Probably plenty of other people in Penterwell were wondering, too.
“Lady Celeste knew Sir Ranulf when they were younger,” she explained, taking little Gawan’s hand and blowing onto his plump palm. “There’s no reason she shouldn’t visit him, although,” she confessed with a wry smile, “I have had a few moments when I wished she wasn’t quite so beautiful.”
“Sir Ranulf surely couldn’t prefer her to you,” Wenna said with a conviction that Beatrice found pleasantly flattering.
“Well, for a long time, he didn’t pay much attention to me at all,” she replied, “and when he did, it was more with a sort of patient forbearance.”
“But lately?” Wenna prompted as she reached out to take her child.
“Oh, Wenna, what would you have me say?” Beatrice replied, laughing as she blushed. “Would you have me tell you all my secrets?”
Her expression thoughtful, Wenna opened her bodice and put her baby to suck. “I want you to be happy, my lady, after all you did for me. I don’t know if I’d have made it through that night if you hadn’t been here.”
“I didn’t do so very much,” Beatrice said, rising to put more wood on the fire.
