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“Not me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll escort the ladies back to their chamber,” said Conrad. His words brought to mind the fact that his sister was standing at the back of the room. She’d been so silent, that Willow had nearly forgotten she was there.
“That’s all right, I don’t need an escort, Lord Conrad,” Willow told him. “I am going down to the great hall, hoping for a dance or two before I retire for the evening.”
“I’d like the first dance, my lady.” Sir Bedivere gallantly held out his arm. Willow smiled. The man was handsome, and she wouldn’t mind dancing with him. She reached out to take his arm but Conrad stepped in, and her hand came down upon his arm instead.
“I’m her guardian until her father returns to Rothbury,” said Conrad. “She will not be attending the dance tonight I’m afraid, Sir Bedivere. Come, Hazel,” he called out, holding out his other arm.
“Lord Beaufort,” said Willow, looking to the man for help.
“He did make a deal with your father, Lady Willow.” Lord Beaufort shook his head. “Until Lord Rook returns, I’m afraid you will have to listen to Sir Conrad.”
She had to change the earl’s mind. There was no way she was going to bed so early when all the noblemen were below stairs. Well, she would just convince the earl to let her go. She had a way with him. “But Earl Rothbury, I’m sure you –”
“Good night,” said Conrad, shuffling her out of the room.
“But Lord Beaufort.” She looked over her shoulder, but Conrad dragged her to her own chamber. Once inside, he shut the door.
“How dare you!” shouted Willow, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You will stay here tonight and get to know my sister instead of getting to know all the men.”
“What fun is that?” asked Willow with a pout.
“If I see you leave this room before morning, I swear I will drag you to Whitby Abbey by your hair and leave you there.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can. Your father gave me permission. As a matter of fact, it was his idea. So don’t think I won’t do it.”
A knock was heard on the door. “My lord,” came a voice from out in the corridor.
Conrad hurried over and opened the door to find his squire standing there.
“What is it, Toby?”
“Earl Rothbury, as well as Earl Alnwick, have sent me to fetch you.”
“Fetch me?” asked Conrad.
Willow laughed. “I suppose they know you are dogging me. Perhaps, you should find yourself a nice bone in the kitchen and go chew on that for a while.”
“They request your presence in the great hall to join them for some whisky. They are also making a list of which knights will compete in which events during the festival.”
“I’m not going to be in any of them, didn’t you tell them that? I have to watch over Willow.”
“I’ll let them know,” said his squire.
“Nay,” said Conrad. “I’ll tell them myself. Willow, come here.”
Willow smiled. “Oh, so you’ve changed your mind just like I knew you would. After all, the knights will want to dance with me.” She picked up her skirts and hurried to the door, happy to be going to the great hall instead of to bed.
“Nay,” said Conrad, stepping in front of her to stop her. He spoke in a low voice so only she could hear. “Please stop ignoring my sister. Would it kill you to talk to her and show a little kindness? She’s just lost her mother and is feeling sad and very insecure.”
Willow turned to look back at the girl who was standing next to the bed with her head down. She was the most pathetic young woman Willow had ever seen in her life. Her mousy brown hair was braided and coiled around the top of her head. She wore a short wimple that left her face in shadow. And her gown was the most unattractive, ugliest piece of clothing Willow had ever seen in her life. “Aye, I think it might kill me,” she mumbled.
“If I see you down in the great hall, there will be hell to pay. Do you understand?”
“You know, I had hoped to have a dance with you, too, Sir Conrad. Perhaps I will let you have the first dance of the evening.” She once again tried her tactics on him.
