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“No, you won’t have,” Sir Douglas agreed. “For it is not in this meadow but the next one.”

“Pray, what about Sir Jeffree’s pavilion makes it worthy of note?” Aimee asked.

“It is in his colors,” Sir Fulke admitted with more than just a hint of scorn. “And emblazoned with his crest.” Sir Leonard guffawed.

Aimee shrugged. “I do not see why you laugh,” she said critically. “For my part, I should dearly love a pavilion decked out in the Kentigern colors of blue and yellow.”

Sir Douglas cleared his throat. “You would not think that a trifle … ostentatious?” he ventured cautiously.

“No, I would not,” she replied stoutly, before remembering her disastrous heraldic gown. Oh. “This one is a good deal too plain,” she said hurriedly to cover up her embarrassment. Perhaps she was showing her upstart origins again!

Sir Fulke glanced over his shoulder. “Most will simply attach their own banner,” he explained. “I see you have not, though, my lord.”

Konrad shrugged. “Jakeman took the only one I had down to the arena. I do not bring spares.”

An awkward silence reigned over the group for a moment before Fulke spoke again. “If you don’t mind me asking, milady. What was it you meant by that comment you made before about de Crecy’s wife keeping him on his toes?”

“Yes,” Sir Douglas agreed. “I also meant to ask about that. For she seems a most pitiable woman to my mind.”

Aimee looked down at her interlaced fingers a moment. “I am not sure,” she said slowly. “I spoke aloud my observation without reasoning it through. It is only that, whenever I have observed that lady, she is not what you would expect her to be.” She hesitated, unsure of the word to select. “She is wholly uncowed by Sir Jeffree’s antics. If anything, she almost seems to derive a sort of dark amusement from them.”

They exclaimed at this, and she thought Konrad seemed displeased. “I did not realize she was his wife at the royal tournament,” she continued simply. “And when he was ejected from the melee, she summoned for more wine and seemed to be vastly enjoying the spectacle.”

“Aimee,” her husband growled as his young friends seemed unduly diverted.

“We are among friends, are we not?” she asked hesitantly “Must I guard my words so closely?”

“We may be among friends but …” Konrad bit off his words before starting again. “Relations between a man and his wife should not be bandied about as idle gossip.”

Aimee turned red, and glancing sidelong, she thought Sir Douglas did too. “Your pardon, I had not realized,” she apologized. Likely, she was being vulgar again. She would have felt free to say such things in front of Ursula or Freda, though Ursa would likely have reproached her, but male company was doubtless different.

Or perhaps it was a societal issue again? Her father discussed the marriages of his acquaintances, but perhaps the nobility did not do so. She tried to imagine the Wycliffes discussing the state of their acquaintance’s marriages and failed. They would think such a thing highly improper, she realized with a sinking heart. Sir Leonard cleared his throat and offered a judgement on some knight’s performance that day who Aimee had never heard of.

Instead of listening, she ate a handful of dates, a fig, and then two walnuts as she debated whether she should retreat inside the tent and leave them to their conversation of battle. Konrad’s hand settling over hers startled her from her thoughts, and she looked up to find him looking at her with a faintly questioning look on his face.

“My lord?” she faltered. Had he directed a question her way that she had missed?

“You have fallen silent,” he said.

Aimee was startled. “This displeases you?” She gave an awkward laugh. “I had thought to let you gentlemen converse without me adding a discordant note.”

“I did not mean to reproach you,” he said abruptly. “Or to stifle your speech. ’Tis only that ‍…” He frowned a moment as though mustering his thoughts. “To me it seems the bond of matrimony is a sacrosanct one.” Aimee’s mouth fell open, and someone sat to her left gave a muffled cough.

Konrad’s frown grew more pronounced. “I heartily pity de Crecy and his wife,” he added heavily. “To be joined in life to someone without affection must be a terrible thing.” He gave her a level look. “Not everyone can be as fortunate as we.”

Aimee gazed at him, her breath coming thick and fast. “I – that is, when we married –” Suddenly, she became aware of three pairs of eyes avidly watching them and swallowed her words. It would surely not be appropriate to raise this now!

His thumb passed caressingly over her knuckles. “When we wed, you brought all the affection to the table,” he acknowledged. “As well as everything else. However, I hope I have never been accused of being a slow learner.”

Aimee swallowed, her head reeling with what he was saying. He had grown accustomed to her presence in his life? Perhaps, even fond of her? She lifted her goblet and took another hurried sip to mask how shaken she felt.

Sir Douglas sighed. “You make us quite envious, my lord,” he said.

“Not me!” Sir Fulke objected with a shudder. “No offense, my lady,” he added quickly when his friends upbraided him as unchivalrous.

“Farleigh is unlucky in his wooing,” Konrad said after a moment’s pause, catching Aimee entirely by surprise.

Was he … attempting to introduce a topic she would have interest in? The possibility made her heart lurch. “He is?” she asked, lowering her cup.