Concern creased Elizabeth’s brow and troubled her grey eyes. Alice would have to make her performance more convincing if she was to get those invitations.
She smiled. ‘Itishow I feel.’
‘Because I do not want you trying to placate your family into thinking you are happy. You know Father would be overjoyed if—
‘Do not talk to me of Father and relationships. He’s hardly one to talk about the raptures of love.’
Their father was overtly kind and generous with everyone. He loved their mother very much. Unfortunately, he loved many other women as well. It had only been a slight relief that he’d always tried to be discreet on his trips to London, but since their mother had died all discretion had vanished.
‘Fair enough.’ Elizabeth frowned. ‘This is not one of your projects, is it? You are not doing this out of some warped sense of setting a wrong to rights?’
She kept her eyes on her sister’s. This, at least, wasn’t a lie. ‘It isn’t.’
‘It’s not some silly vow you made while you were away?’
‘No.’
It wasn’t a vow—or a project. It was an enormous promise to the King. She felt the weight of it heavily on her shoulders. Or maybe it was all the lying she was doing.
Elizabeth’s hands went to her face and wiped the tears under her eyes. ‘I cannot tell you what this means to me.’
Alice grabbed her sister’s hands. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘All this time...’ Elizabeth’s voice broke. ‘All this worry. I did not think you would even attempt to find someone you deserve.’
‘Please don’t cry. Please. I can’t take your tears.’
Waving her hands in front of her face, Elizabeth beamed. ‘I amhappyfor you!’
Alice clasped her sister’s hands firmly together and willed Elizabeth to stop her happiness. Such sisterly joy pressed upon her more heavily than the lies she’d told. She still had more lies to tell, and it wouldn’t do if she failed this early in her mission.
‘I know you’re happy for me, but it means nothing if I don’t actually have a husband.’
Elizabeth shook her hands free. ‘That is easy to remedy. St Martin’s Day is mere days away, and Christmas will soon be upon us. In fact, I can think of many upcoming affairs that John and I have been invited to. I’ll simply secure an invitation for you as well.’
Such invitations were exactly what Alice both dreaded and needed. Lies and deceit pricked sharply in her heart, but she’d do anything to save her family.
‘I knew I could count on you for help.’
Chapter Four
Hugh stormed through his old house—such as it was. The three-room residence was smaller than he remembered, the furniture rougher and the linens course. Abrasive, just like Swaffham. A small town with sparsely cobbled, cramped streets and not enough amenities where a man could get lost. Or, better yet, not be seen when he didn’t want to be.
He had never intended to return to this town of his childhood. A town he had been forced to travel to when his dying mother had written to his errant father and begged him to care for his son.
And so, at the age of five, Hugh had been carted off by travelling strangers. He had left Shoebury knowing he was leaving his mother, knowing he would never see her again. Knowing he was travelling to the care of a man who had never wanted him in the first place.
His father, Clifford of Swaffham, a knight impoverished, had been an abusive drunk. Many a night Hugh had dreamed he still lived in Shoebury with his mother—only to awake to cold and hunger. Many a time he’d thought it would have been better to be left alone in the streets without a parent.
Why his father had agreed to take him, he had never known. To this day Hugh didn’t know if he hated his father or Swaffham more. The tiniest comfort he hoped for upon his arrival was Bertrice’s food, and that held no flavour.
He rubbed the grit from his eyes. Even with her ankle healing from a recent break, Bertrice’s food was better than fine. It was his mood that wasn’t. He wanted to crack the clay cup in his hand, but he tipped it to his mouth and downed the ale instead.
Hadnothingchanged? Even his need to drink remained the same. He knew from experience that there wasn’t enough ale in all the land to hide his thoughts from himself, and if he drank much more he’d wouldn’t be able to keep his thoughts to himself.
Maybe if he poured out all his secrets he’d be rid of their poison.
The thought of finally being free of their crushing weight sent a mad euphoria through him—before hard reason dropped like an axe.
