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William had to admit he did like London, but he had had no time to spend at court to know if he liked or disliked it. But one thing had been apparent; the single women of the court knew he was there, and he had a constant influx of notes, handkerchiefs, flowers, and the like. At first he had been amused by the attention, but as of late he had grown just plain annoyed. In the back of his mind he was deathly afraid the king would suggest a betrothal to one of the eligible ladies and he had nightmares over that day.

A messenger roused him from his thoughts. The page told him that the king requested his presence and William obeyed, following the boy through the maze of corridors that comprised Windsor Castle until they reached the king’s private audience hall.

He entered the room and bowed deeply before Henry. As he was prostrate, he failed to notice a movement out of the shadows.

“Well, you look like a court dandy, I must say,” came a most familiar voice.

William whirled around, his eyes wide with astonishment. Paris stepped forward, grinning like a fool.

“Paris.” he gasped. “Damnation, man, what in the hell are you doing here?”

When Paris’ smiled faded, William’s heart lurched. Before he could answer, the king stepped in.

“I am afraid he came personally to inform us of a bit of bad news,” Henry said. “I know how close you were to de Longley, William. Please accept my condolences on his passing.”

William was stunned. “The earl is dead?”

“Aye,” Paris said solemnly. “Three weeks ago. He died in his sleep.”

William took a moment to collect himself. He was greatly saddened by the man’s passing, more so than when his own father had died. He felt the loss of a dear, dear friend.

“Which means we now have a new earl,” Henry cut into his thoughts. “Alexander has ascended the title. Northwood and all of her might are in the hands of a weakling. God help us all.”

William’s head snapped up to the king, suddenly realizing the implication of that statement. He looked at Paris; his friend’s face was grave. He was desperate to get the man alone and drill him with questions.

The king was leaning on the arm chair, looking thoughtful. “I will not strip the new earl of his title, not just yet anyway. The man has done nothing yet to warrant such an action. But I must tell you both that I am extremely wary with Alexander as Warden of the North Border. Paris, you must watch him as my personal eyes in the matter. Anything out of line I expect reported immediately to me.”

“Aye, sire,” Paris replied. He didn’t like spying for the king, but in this case he would make an exception Alexander needed watching.

The king snorted most un-monarch like. “It would solve the entire problem if a mishap befell Alexander and Adam ascended the title,” he mused. “He is the only de Longley offspring worth a damn. Young as he is, I think he’d make a fine earl. Well, enough plotting. You are both dismissed, I am sure you have much to talk about.”

The king had delivered the news and now had other things on his mind, fortunately for the both of them. He dismissed the men with the promise that they would dine with him that evening.

William was still reeling even as he and Paris strolled the corridor leading back to his rooms. Not a word was said the entire walk, but when the door to the chamber closed, William turned into a madman.

“Are you insane?” he demanded harshly. “Leaving Jordan while Alexander gobbles up Northwood’s seat?”

Paris put up a hand. “I know what you are thinking, but I can assure you she is perfectly safe,” he said emphatically. “The knights have the watch of her and you know that no harm will come to her.”

William hissed loudly, kicking the nearest table into firewood. “Damnation!”

Paris was only beginning with news from Northwood. He cocked a blond brow at his friend. “Better get a grip on yourself, William. ’Tis more to tell.”

“Get on with it, then.”

“Much has happened since you left, my friend,” he said. “Too much to write in one of those public missives the earl sent to you. First and foremost, let me congratulate you.”

William sneered at him irritably. “For what?”

For the first time, Paris smiled. “For the child your wife carries. She is into her sixth month of pregnancy, eating everything in sight and driving me daft with her moods.”

William stared at him a long, long time. Had a chair not been directly behind him, he would have collapsed on the floor. As it was, the chair groaned dangerously at the sudden deposit of weight.

“A child?” he whispered in disbelief. “My… my dear God.”

Paris, amused at the suddenly pale face, clapped him happily on the shoulder. “Aye, a child, and a large one by the size of her,” he told him. “She is already as big as a house but as beautiful as ever.”

“My God,” he repeated. He was in shock. “A child? Is Jordan well? How does she feel?”