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The herald called out another name next that interested Willow very much.
“Earl Stanley Alnwick,” he announced.
Upon hearing this, Willow shot over to the window, almost knocking over Maira who was leaning her elbows on the ledge.
“What’s the hurry?” asked Maira, scowling at her. “Be careful.”
“That’s him,” said Willow, feeling the rise of a flush to her cheeks. “He’s the one with the ruby as big as his hand that he’s bringing as a gift to the king. He’s stopping here to show it to the earl. I can’t wait to see it. Mayhap he’ll let me hold it as well.”
“Ye like him because he’s rich, dinna ye?” asked Morag.
“She likes all the men if you haven’t noticed.” Maira left the window and headed across the room.
“Don’t be silly! Earl Alnwick is old, not to mention married. And I do not like all of the men,” said Willow, thinking about Sir Conrad. How she’d like to give him a piece of her mind for putting sugar in the salt cellar and convincing her to put lots of it on her fish on her eighth birthday. After taking one bite and almost gagging, she threw the trencher at Conrad. Because of it, she was punished by her father for a sennight. Of course, she told Rook that it was Conrad who started it, but Rook seemed to favor the boy. Instead, her father told her she was not acting like a lady.
“Willow, we are leaving within the hour,” Rook told her from the door. “We won’t be back for a sennight, so be sure to have your handmaid pack everything you will need for the visit.”
“A sennight?” asked Willow, realizing that by the time they returned, the festival would be over. She will have missed it all. “Why so long?”
“Dinna be daft, Willow.” Morag crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “Ye ken it takes longer to get to the Highlands where Fia now lives.”
“And Fia will want us to stay and visit with her since we’ve only seen her twice in the past year,” added Maira. “I wouldn’t mind staying longer if we have the chance.”
“I’ll tell Lord Beaufort our stay might be extended,” said Rook.
“Extended?” Willow glanced back out the window at the noble procession, feeling her heart drop. She had been looking forward to this for so long. Now because Fia had birthed her baby, Willow was going to miss it all.
Willow wanted more than anything to go with them to be with her cousin and to see her new niece. But then again, this festival only came once a year. Willow secretly hoped to find a man that interested her that she could possibly marry in the future. She didn’t want to tell her cousins this, but since there were so many nobles in one place, it would make her options more viable. “Father, I think I am feeling ill,” said Willow, clutching her stomach and heading back to the bed.
“What?” Rook looked up and frowned. “I’ll call for the healer, anon.”
Her head snapped up. “Nay! I’m sure it’s nothing that requires a healer.”
“Really?” He furrowed his brow. “Then what is it?”
“It’s . . . it’s . . .” What could she possibly say to get her father to leave her behind? It wasn’t likely he was going to agree to it, so she had to sound convincing. There was only one thing she could tell him that would work. “It’s my menses,” she whispered, watching her father’s reaction. He stood up and cleared his throat and looked the other way. “I can’t possibly ride a horse up to the Highlands now. I think I’d better stay behind.” She let out a sigh to add some drama to the situation. “I am so going to miss seeing Fia and the baby. Do give her my regards.”
“If you can’t ride, then we’ll take a wagon,” said Rook. “I wouldn’t want you to miss out on seeing the baby.”
Willow felt so frustrated that she wanted to scream. She looked over to her cousins with pleading eyes. Morag would never help her but perhaps Maira would. “Traveling over the bumpy ground is going to upset the way I feel.” She nodded slightly to Maira, hoping she’d understand that she was looking for a backup.
Maira shook her head and made a face. “Aye, Uncle Rook, that’s right,” she said, not at all sounding convincing. “Willow will feel terrible and ruin the trip for all of us if she comes along. Plus, she will only slow us down. I think she should stay here.”
“Willow, I don’t like the idea of leaving you behind.” Rook frowned, his dark eyebrows angling downward.
“Especially with the festival going on,” added Rowen, throwing his brother a look that Willow was sure meant that they thought she was faking it.
“Please, Father?” she asked, giving him the little pout that she had used through the years that always made her father give in to her wishes.
“Willow, don’t do that,” said Rook, looking like he was about to surrender.
“I won’t be any trouble staying here in Rothbury if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I don’t know that this is a good idea.”
“I’ll be no trouble to Lord Beaufort at all. I would really like to stay in Rothbury for the festival, Father.”
Rook ran a hand through his long, dark hair, looking in the opposite direction.
