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A soft tap at the door had her sharply turning her head, but it was only Golda.

“It’s the master, Miss Aimee,” she said and moved aside to make way.

Aimee’s heart lurched, but it was her father who came into the room. She instantly felt annoyed with herself at the instant stab of disappointment she felt.

“Father!” she said jumping out of her seat and running to meet him with an embrace to make up for her unfilial thoughts.

“My Aimee!” he greeted her jovially before looking about. “Why have you not had a fire lit in here?”

“Father, Freda is sleeping,” Aimee cautioned, lifting her finger to her lips, but Freda was already sitting up, bleary-eyed.

“Oh!” Freda exclaimed, swinging her legs over the side of the bench. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Ankatel.” She rose to her feet looking rather flustered as she touched a hand to her untidy hair.

“Nothing to forgive,” Gerold assured her heartily. “I like to take a rest myself of an afternoon. How are you, Mistress Freda?”

“So very kind,” Freda murmured distractedly straightening her skirts. “Yes, I am very well, I thank you.”

“Well, well, I am glad to see you keeping my Aimee company,” he said genially as Aimee directed him to a seat. “You ladies are keeping yourselves occupied this afternoon?”

Golda appeared as Freda gave a somewhat incoherent reply and set down a plate of spiced biscuits before them.

“But what is this?” Aimee’s father asked, leaning forward to pick up the silver brooch from the table.

“’Tis a gift from Freda to welcome me into the Bartree family,” Aimee explained when Freda looked rather tongue-tied by the question. Her father regarded Freda with warmth.

“A vastly handsome piece,” Gerold said weighing it in his hand. “Substantial too, it’s really quite heavy. It looks to be incomplete somehow?” He looked across at Freda after examining the holes carefully.

“Oh, er, sadly, yes,” she stammered. “There used to be three matching gemstones suspended from the little holes, but sadly – the – er, the passage of years was such …” she trailed off into an embarrassed silence.

“Well, the fixings are intact, and the brooch could be restored easily enough.”

“Oh, but, Father, it is still a fine brooch as it stands,” Aimee said hastily, not wishing to cause Freda offence.

He pocketed the brooch and tipped her a wink. “You leave it to me,” he said. “We’ll soon have it good as new, and mayhap you can wear it to that tournament you’re so looking forward to. In two days’ time, is it not?”

“Oh, but –” Aimee bit off her words as her father patted her shoulder. She did not know how to explain that an old and venerated family such as the Bartrees did not seem to prize newness as a virtue.

“How very kind your father is, to be sure,” Freda whispered when Gerold took his leave of them an hour later. “I am quite astounded at the thought of his restoring the brooch for you. Never did I think that one day it might be restored to its former glory.”

“You shall not mind, Freda?” Aimee asked.

“Oh no, of course not!” Freda looked quite shocked. “It is a very great honor your father does my gift.” Freda sighed. “I suppose I had better go and check on Magnatrude.” She sounded rather guilty. “I have left her alone for a good deal of the day.”

“It will not be long now until supper,” Aimee consoled her, and Freda’s expression lightened.

“Yes, that is true.” Freda fingered her amber beads distractedly, and Aimee wondered if she would remove them before joining Magnatrude in the oaken parlor. After all, such a necklace was sure to be noticed.

However, when both ladies descended to supper an hour later, Freda was still wearing her new string of beads. She had made a valiant attempt to tidy her hair too, which surprised Aimee, for she had found at least six of Freda’s hairpins strewn across the settle after she had left. A much-abused set of pins they were too, sadly twisted and bent out of shape. It was small wonder they could not hold their mistress’s tresses in place.

Aimee wondered if Freda would accept the gift of some new ones or if that would be too much too soon. She realized by now that Freda’s role was that of poor relation and companion. Freda greeted her shyly as both ladies slid into the same seats they had occupied the previous evening.

“We await Lord Kentigern,” Aimee explained, even as she heard his approaching footsteps in the passageway outside. Turning her head, she instructed Unwin to run through to the kitchens and inform the servants they were ready for their meal. The boy nodded and ran out through the door at the opposite end of the room.

12

Konrad was quietly watchful at supper. It did not go unnoticed by him that Magnatrude was only directing her conversation toward him these days, while Aimee and Freda conversed quietly with one another. His wife’s manner toward him was polite but more subdued than usual. She did not brighten like before whenever her eye happened to fall on him. He hadn’t even realized she did that until she stopped doing it. For some reason, the change irked him.

Why the fuck had his loss at Kellingford made him a prospective bridegroom as far as she was concerned?