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Belatedly, it occurred to Aimee that her in-laws had misinterpreted the nature of their Lord Kentigern’s punishment for his recalcitrant wife. “No, no,” she said weakly. “Of course, he did not. I am quite well this morn, I assure you.”

Magnatrude bent her neck and fiddled with her napkin. “Aimee,” she said, taking a deep breath before lifting her head. “I owe you an apology.” Aimee was so surprised she didn’t know what to say for a full minute. “I realize it will take time for you to determine my sincerity, but I hope that one day, in the not-too-distant future, you will give me another chance to be your sister.”

“Of course,” Aimee replied, and Magnatrude’s shoulders relaxed.

“Thank you,” she breathed, looking relieved. “I wish you would call me Trude, then, as my family do.”

As Magnatrude had not seemed particularly reconciled to this informal shortening of her name, Aimee was again surprised. “I would be happy to, Trude,” she said truthfully and remembered the string of coral beads still sat in the cabinet. She rose and fetched the package, setting them down by her sister-in-law’s plate before returning to her own seat.

Magnatrude opened them and slipped the handsome string of beads immediately over her head. “Thank you, sister,” she said politely. “I am afraid that, well, the family jewels were lost during the late war, and there are none left to bestow on you.”

Aimee’s hand flew to Freda’s brooch which was pinned to her chest. “I have this one,” she said looking across at Freda who looked highly gratified.

Magnatrude blinked. “Oh yes,” she said. “Of course, that is a handsome piece, though it could not possibly compare to the Bartree diadem which was exceedingly famous.” She turned to her cousin. “Is that not so, Freda?”

“Oh yes, dear,” Freda answered absently. “Though they say it is women with golden hair who desire opals, and Aimee is so very dark.”

“Golden hair?” Magnatrude repeated sounding irritated. “What are you talking about, cousin?”

“I am sure I am right,” Freda said. “For a particular friend of my youth was mad for them.” Freda’s eyes glazed over with the effort of recollection. “She always said opals would prevent a golden head from fading or darkening.”

Magnatrude looked taken aback by this information but soon rallied. “There were not only opals on the diadem but also emeralds,” she pointed out sternly. “Emeralds would look very fine against the black of Aimee’s hair.”

Aimee’s thoughts wandered as the cousins debated the properties of various jewels. If the diadem was gone, it was gone. She could see no point in debating it. Instead, she wondered what time Lord Kentigern had risen from her bed. She had slept so soundly; she had not stirred once. Had he only waited for her to close her eyes, or had he tarried longer? She cupped her chin in her hand and let her thoughts drift away. Directly after she had broken her fast, she would place the signet ring on his pillow, she decided. Then he would find it there when next he returned home.

A sharp rap on the door recalled her to her surroundings. All three of them turned as one to regard Golda coming through the door, her eyes wide and her breathing labored. “There’s an invitation here, miss – I mean, milady. From the palace!”

Aimee stared in astonishment as a smartly dressed youth strode through the door in a royal blue tunic with scalloped sleeves. He bowed smartly and looked quizzically at the table occupants. “Lady Kentigern?” he enquired politely.

“That is me,” Aimee replied, and he bowed and introduced himself as one Gordon Fairfax, emissary of her majesty, Queen Armenal.

“I am come to extend the queen’s royal invitation for you to join her this afternoon at the Summer Palace, my lady. The queen has had a pavilion set up and has her temporary court of love and beauty set up along the south lawns.”

“Love and beauty?” Aimee repeated with misgiving.

Gordon cleared his throat. “The ladies are mostly employed in embroidery,” he admitted. “While a bard sings to them many famous tales of romance.”

“Embroidery!” Aimee exclaimed with dismay. She was far from confident in the art. Recalling herself to the honor being done to her, she mustered up some hurried semblance of gratitude. “H-how very kind of her highness, to be sure. Am I to accompany you now?”

He bowed again with a flourish. “I will both escort and return you in good time,” he promised, beaming at Freda and Magnatrude.

“Should we accompany you?” her sister-in-law asked, and to Aimee’s mind she looked willing though not particularly enthusiastic. Wondering if Magnatrude had been intending to visit with northern nobles again today, she turned back to young Gordon with an enquiring look.

He spread his hands wide. “The invitation is ostensibly only addressed to you, my lady, but the queen would not be surprised to find you accompanied and would not turn anyone away, I am sure.” He smiled seraphically at Magnatrude, who obligingly rose from her seat.

“Oh dear,” said Freda. “Would you mind terribly, dear Aimee, if I did not accompany you?” She bit her lip. “Only I am lamentably short-sighted these days, and my embroidery was never as good as Trude’s.”

“Of course not,” Aimee assured her soothingly as she and Magnatrude made haste to depart. She squeezed Freda’s bony shoulder in passing. “Only, make sure you bid Golda to light a fire if you remain in one room, for it can grow quite cold in the shade.”

She hurried upstairs to fasten her gold chain about her neck and replace her thin slippers with a pair of smart ankle boots with cross lacings down the front. She tarried only to fetch the gold signet ring from the hidey-hole in her cupboard and carry it into her husband’s bedchamber. This she placed in the middle of her husband’s pillow bearer, still in its velvet pouch. After stepping back to survey the effect and check he could not miss this latest gift, she turned and flew down the staircase to join those waiting for her below.

17

Konrad arrived early at the palace jousting grounds and soon retrieved the last of his kit, strapping it to Actaeon’s broad back. The tents, which had been set up to house the various bits of equipment, were mostly empty, though a few people were milling about, mostly servants and attendants. He expected the likes of Vawdrey and Orde were still lolling abed with their wives at this time.

He was just passing the last of the striped tents when he was hailed by Sir Douglas Farleigh, who came hurrying after him. Kentigern halted and wondered for the thousandth time why it was that Farleigh was always so damned pleased to see him.

“Well met, my lord!” the younger knight enthused, hurrying to his side. “I was sorry you did not attend last night’s feast.”