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“How was your training today? Is all looking well for the royal tournament?” She took a sip of wine, and Konrad found himself casting about for something agreeable to say.

“I don’t plan on crashing out in the first round this time, if that’s what you mean,” he heard himself reply heavily. Not quite the tone he was aiming for, but she flashed her dimples at him in any case.

“I thought it was wonderful how you took your loss at Kellingford. That’s what made me –” Her breath caught a moment, and her color heightened. “Like you so much.”

Konrad was thunderstruck. How he had taken his loss? He cast his mind back. At the time, he had been so bloody surprised and pleased for Renlow that he had congratulated the lad. Shit. Did she think he was some kind of parfait knight who espoused fair play? If so, she was in for a rude awakening! “Was Kellingford the only tournament you’ve seen me fight in?” he asked slowly.

“No,” she admitted. “I also saw you before once at the palace, but we were far from the noble’s boxes and did not have the greatest view.” He made no reply to this, surmising she must have been among the crowds in the commoner’s stands. She rattled on. “I wonder if my sister will attend with Sir Renlow? I must send a message to enquire.”

He forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand. “You think they will have left your father’s house by now?” He had his doubts.

“Of course!” Aimee responded at once. “Ursula was not really poorly, you know. The celebrations were all just a bit too much for her.”

He shrugged. “She lacks backbone.”

“No, that is not fair,” Aimee objected. “She has a very sweet nature in truth …” Her words trailed off, and she traced a finger on the arm of her chair. “Were you disappointed?” she blurted suddenly, taking him by surprise. “When you found out?”

He lowered his goblet. “Disappointed? About what?”

“That it was me, I mean. That I was the one …”

The door flung open, and Golda came sailing in with a pitcher of water. “Oh!” She halted so abruptly when she saw them seated together that the water sloshed from the jug. “I had not realized, milady,” she said backing up.

“It is of no matter, Golda,” Aimee assured her. “If you just set it down over there, it will suffice.”

“And have someone light the fire,” Konrad added.

Golda pursed her lips and set down the pitcher of hot water. “Yes, milord,” she muttered and beat a hasty retreat. An awkward silence fell over the room in her wake.

“Should I have asked for Golda to send up some refreshment? Dates maybe or some pickled walnuts?”

Konrad ignored this as nervous chatter. “I was not disappointed,” he said heavily.

Her eyes went wide. “Truly?” He gave an affirmative nod, though how she could think otherwise was beyond him. She lowered her voice. “Do you suppose Sir Renlow might also have been in the dark about which of us was his intended?” she looked concerned.

Konrad shrugged. “If he was, he likely kept his surprise to himself.” It stood to reason that Renlow would have more discretion than a blunt bastard like himself.

“I hope so,” Aimee bit her lip. “Ursula is quite sensitive, and I should not like her to have been upset by any misunderstanding.” When he made no reply, he could almost see her casting about for some other topic. “My father came to the house today,” she said brightly. “He spent above an hour with Freda and myself.”

“Freda has been keeping you company?”

“Oh yes, for most of today.”

“She won’t tomorrow.”

She looked startled. “She won’t?”

He shook his head. “Trude will need her company when she goes visiting.”

“Your sister has acquaintances in the capital?”

“Apparently,” he admitted grudgingly. “Some visiting northern dignitaries.”

“Oh.”

“Doubtless she will introduce you to them at the tournament.”

Aimee’s expression wavered somewhere in between gratification and nervousness. “Last year, Ursula and I spent some months with the Wycliffe family. Do you know them at all?”