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He recalled Aimee’s reaction with a grimace. Although that had not been his first transgression as a husband, for he had surely fallen from grace on their very wedding day when he had abandoned her to dispense wedding favors all by herself. It had, though, been the final insult that prompted her to actually withdraw her avowal of love for him.

What if he were to crown her here this afternoon, he wondered. Would that earn her love back? He rubbed his breast plate distractedly with an armored gauntlet, causing a clash of metal. Could such a wrong be so easily righted? Besides, she was barely speaking to him by this point, he thought wretchedly. It would probably serve him right if she dashed the garland to the ground and trampled all over it. Just like she had his heart.

The spear slipped from his nerveless fingers and crashed to the floor.

“My lord?” said Jakeman hurrying forward to help him retrieve it.

“Hmmm?” Konrad turned to look at the concerned face of his manservant.

“Is all well, my lord?”

“No,” replied Konrad heavily. “No, it is not. Are you married, Jakeman?”

“Widower, my lord.”

“You are?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You never mentioned it before.”

“No, my lord.” His discreet servant hesitated. “You see, you never asked.”

“No, I suppose I did not.” Konrad sighed heavily. He supposed he should try and get his head focused back on the tournament. “Anything else I should know?”

Jakeman’s expression flickered. “Er … I’m a father of three, my lord, if that’s any interest to you.”

“Three?” Konrad was startled. “Good gods, are you really?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Sons?” he asked, curious in spite of himself. “Or daughters?”

“Three sons, my lord.”

“Three! Where do you stash them all?”

A smile flickered across Jakeman’s face. He coughed. “Your lordship pays me well enough I am able to pay a woman to care for them.”

Konrad was just thinking his manservant must find the townhouse a handy location for visiting his offspring when an attendant came panting toward them.

“My lord Kentigern!” he cried. “You are up next!”

*

Konrad was perhaps the only one not surprised when he went crashing out of his saddle and ended up in a heap on the ground mere moments later in the third pass. He lay winded for a moment before raising a hand to flip up his visor and gaze up at the blue sky above. That was that, then. He was out of the running. All he could hope for now was that he had lost to the eventual victor.

He heard Jakeman’s low voice in his ear a moment before he registered the mixed reaction of the crowd. “They’re sorry to see you lose, my lord,” his manservant said, helping him to roll onto his side and then a sitting position. “For all de Bussell’s so popular.”

Konrad groaned and tore ineffectually at his dented chest plate. Jakeman took the hint and unbuckled the twisted plate. De Bussell had struck him a mighty blow, dead center. “He will be more popular still before the year is out,” Konrad predicted in a growl. “Damn him.” His words lacked heat however, and when moments later de Bussell appeared in front of him with his lazy smile, he congratulated him without rancor.

“That’s twice you’ve defeated me in as many days, de Bussell,” he growled. “Next time I see you, I will knock you flat on your arse.”

Sir Armand laughed his easy laugh. “I don’t doubt it, Kentigern,” he answered good-naturedly. “It won’t be the first time you have done so.”

“Aye, well … just make sure you send de Crecy home with a broken head,” he growled by way of reply, and they clasped wrists.

It seemed, however, that nothing was to go Konrad’s way that day. He retreated to the sidelines to watch the final joust, only allowing himself the barest glance in Aimee’s direction. So far from being devastated by his loss, she appeared to be absorbed in eating a pastry. He smarted, discarding the last vestiges of his armor into a pile at his feet.