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Aloria, however, soon found herself up to her elbows in bracelets while Jordan tried to decide which one she liked best.

After a minute she pulled them all off and handed the one she liked best to the merchant. “That one,” she said decisively. “Now, if ye would please add it all up and tell me what I owe ye, I shall thank ye.”

The merchant nodded happily, for it was a large sale. William groaned inwardly, wondering just how much this was going to cost him. His wife had one vice and one vice only; she was a slave to dresses and pretty jewelry and feminine frills. But, then again, so was he.

Michael had the material and Deinwald carried the vials of perfume as if they were made of gold. Jordan swore if he dropped them that she would personally kill him. She wore her new bracelet, the rough-cut sapphire and silver gleaming under the warm sun. William bade his two knights to return the goods to Jordan’s rooms while he and Marc continued to escort the ladies about.

Jordan was eyeing the cobbler’s shed and he caught her look. “What are you going to buy now, my lady?” his voice had a warning tone to it.

She caught the inflection in his voice and quickly looked away. “Nothing,” she said, looking for a change of subject. She turned to Aloria, slightly behind her. “Is Northwood much different from Windsor?”

“Aye, my lady,” she answered. “Windsor is much, much larger.”

“And ye like it there?”

Aloria’s eyes snapped to her new mistress and Jordan caught a glimpse of something, be it sadness or hostility. “It was my home, my lady.”

She answered her, but without truly answering the question. Jordan began to wonder if Aloria didn’t leave a lover behind and resented her new mistress greatly for it, for she was certainly stiff and formal enough.

“Being the queen’s lady must be exciting,” Jordan took William’s arm unconsciously. “I shall wager ye’ve traveled far and wide and seen a great many things.”

Aloria didn’t notice Jordan’s action; she was watching her feet. “ ’Tis an honor to serve the queen, my lady. She is an educated and gracious lady, as is the king.”

“Are ye educated, Aloria?” Jordan asked, knowing the English did not encourage education for women.

“I can read Latin, French, and English,” Aloria replied. “I have had a good deal of practice writing, as well. Why, King Henry himself taught me to read Latin. He is quite fluent, more than most priests.”

Jordan nodded before she truly thought of the contents of the answer. Then, slowly, a dawning horror filled her veins. Latin. The false wedding ceremony tomorrow would be in Latin, and the king was fluent in it. What if he didn’t fall asleep as the earl promised, and furthermore paid close attention to what was being said? What if…?

Her head snapped to William just as his eyes found hers, silently imploring her to be silent and calm. His thoughts were exactly the same, as if they were reading one another’s mind, and he was near panic trying to think of a solution. But he remained outwardly cool, praying Jordan would remain the same. The woman could panic so easily that he hoped she would be lucid enough to control herself.

Jordan started to quiver; he could feel it through his thick leather gloves. “What other languages does our king speak?” she asked Aloria, with nary a quiver.

Bravo, Jordan. William applauded silently, thrilled that she had the presence of mind to think clearly and formulate a plan to gain useful information. He felt himself washing with relief, feeling hopeful that together he and his wife could come to a plausible solution.

Aloria looked thoughtful. “Aside from the languages I mentioned, he speaks Italian and German. Our king is exceptionally educated.”

Jordan nodded. “He doesna speak Gaelic?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Aloria said. “He has never had the interest. He believes it a harsh language, and he is not fond of Welsh, either.”

Gaelic. Jordan passed her husband a slow, knowing glance and he fought the urge to kiss her soundly for her quick thinking. Good God, the woman could think quickly on her feet when she set her mind to it.

The rest of the walk went pleasantly enough. William and Marc returned the ladies to the front doors of Northwood, and Marc discreetly excused himself, while Aloria stood next to her mistress and eyed William impatiently. William saw the look and knew exactly what the woman was doing.

“Lady Aloria, you are excused,” he said. “I will see Lady Jordan up in a moment.”

Jordan winced, wondering if Aloria would challenge William’s authority in this matter. She soon found out; much to her dismay, Aloria planned to do just that.

“Begging the Captain’s pardon, but it is not proper for the future countess to be seen alone with another man other than her husband,” she said bravely.

Trouble was, she was absolutely right. William cocked a slow eyebrow at the woman, hoping that she would back down by sheer intimidation.

“My lady, I have been Lady Jordan’s personal protector and champion since her arrival,” he said steadily. “She has seen two attacks on her life and the orders from the earl are that she is never, ever to be without a knight for protection. Am I making myself clear?”

Aloria nodded; she knew of this man and his reputation and was hugely intimidated, but she also knew her duty.

“Aye, my lord, I understand, but the fact remains…,” she went on.