Page 52 of An Inconvenient Vow

It occurred to Jeffree that if it had not been for the hounds, he likely would have embarrassed himself again by waking up plastered to Sabina. For some reason, he did not feel remotely grateful. “Well, if you behave yourselves today, mayhap she will occupy that spot with you again tonight, Jasper,” he commented coolly.

His brother’s face brightened at this prospect, though his mother rolled her eyes. “Poor Githa has my heartfelt sympathies,” she murmured but did not forbid the suggested sleeping arrangement.

Their morning’s travel was uneventful, and they made good time traveling through the neighboring county of Halfordshire. “If we were to travel south from this point,” Jeffree found himself informing the party at large, “we would reach Rogets Ford.”

“And what, pray, is at Rogets Ford?” his mother asked.

“A tournament.”

“Why do you not journey to this one, if ‘tis closer?” his wife asked with a frown.

“It’s held in March,” he explained. “It’s an annual event.”

“Who won it this year?” Crispin asked with interest. “You?”

Jeffree frowned. “Lord Kentigern,” he admitted grudgingly after a moment.

“I have heard tell of him,” Jasper piped up, irritatingly. “He is a fearsome warrior, is he not?”

Jeffree ignored him.

“What tournament was after that?” Crispin asked.

“The Royal Spring Tournament,” Jeffree replied, starting to wish he had not raised the subject.

“And who won that?”

“Sir Garman Orde,” he growled with a fearsome growl. Even Crispin seemed to realize the subject was not a good one to pursue.

“And after that?” Sabina persisted.

“Tranton Vale at the beginning of this month.”

“And who triumphed there?” she enquired with an arched brow.

His displeasure dissolved at the memory. “Me,” he answered, earning a cheer from his brothers. He turned in his saddle to frown at them, but they looked entirely unabashed. He glanced back to Sabina to gauge her reaction and found her looking at him appraisingly. “What?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“I am just glad to hear there is some basis for your monumental pride,” she answered sweetly.

Sir Dudley gave a choked cough, but Jeffree held her gaze. “Well, you shall soon see be able to judge that for yourself, wife,” he answered pointedly.

Sabina just laughed. “Is there only one tournament held each month?” she asked with interest. “It seems very well coordinated.”

“In general, there is only one major tournament, but there are lesser ones held here or there.”

“So, if one wished it, a knight could spend a full twelvemonth on the road?”

“Practically the whole year,” he admitted. “None are held in December or January due to the harsher weather and the shorter daylight hours.”

Sabina nodded thoughtfully at this, but before she could make a reply, his mother chimed in. “Was there not some impromptu May Day tournament held at the palace this year?” she asked. “Your cousin Hugo was telling me of it.”

“Oh, that.” Jeffree pulled a face. “I did not attend. It was all some royal ploy to marry off the northern princess.”

“The Princess Una?” Sabina asked, whipping her head around. “Poor thing! Surely the King did not marry her off to the winner of a joust?”

“I believe that was the plan,” Jeffree answered.

“What a rotten prize!” exclaimed Crispin.