Tori Phillips (13 page)

Fitzhugh chuckled. “Andrew is going soft in the head like an aging melon.”

Before Gareth could respond, the crowd applauded the first bull’s-eye of the match. The quivering arrow belonged to Sir Andrew Ford.

Rosie could not control her gasp of surprise. Andrew had hardly aimed before he loosened his arrow. She expected it to fly over the painted stag’s head. Instead it embedded itself between the two white eyes.

The shorter Frenchman who shot beside Andrew gave the Englishman a scowl that would curdle milk. Then he pulled his bowstring. Meanwhile, Andrew turned and bowed low to the countess.

Lady Alicia waved her fan in return. “Nod your head to him, Rosie, and smile. Andrew adores attention.”

“I had noticed that already,” she replied, as she waved at him.

The Frenchman’s arrow landed just below the stag’s chest. He glared at his opponent as if his miss were Andrew’s fault.

Without losing a jot of his brilliant smile, Andrew pulled an arrow from his quiver, notched it in his bowstring, turned and fired all in a single fluid motion. Rosie didn’t see where the arrow went.
How awful! He must have completely missed the entire target.
The crowd cheered and stomped their feet.

She tapped Lady Alicia. “How now? What happened?”

The countess paused her clapping. “Mark the place of Andrew’s first arrow. Now there are two, cheek to jowl.”

Rosie leaned forward and squinted at the target over a hundred feet away. Andrew’s two arrows appeared joined at their tips. The exuberant lord spun around and took another bow which only encouraged the partisan crowd to cheer him louder.

Lady Alicia nudged Rosie. “Clap, or else Andrew will think you are displeased with his performance.”

Rosie held up her hands above her head so that he could see she applauded him. When he smiled at her, Rosie’s heart skipped a beat.

Three more times, both men shot their arrows. Three more times all of Andrew’s hit the same mark while the Frenchman’s shots grew wilder. The crowd did not need the judge to announce that Andrew had won the round. The Frenchman gripped his bow, then broke it over his knee. He tossed the pieces at Andrew’s feet then stalked away amid the booing and hissing of the English. Andrew came to the railing again while the lackeys set up fresh targets. Guy offered him his wineskin.

Andrew tilted it and drank deeply. “My thanks, Guy, you were always a thoughtful squire.” Then he turned to Rosie and beamed. “How now, my lady Rosalind! Have I caught your eye?”

Her heart turned a somersault in response. How dashing he looked in his slightly rumpled state! His loose shirt was open at the neck and a sheen of perspiration emphasized the corded muscles of his chest. His exertions had mussed his wavy hair and she thought he looked particularly raffish with a lock of it falling casually over his forehead. Leaning on his bow, he reminded her of childhood tales of brave Robin Hood. Andrew’s virility captivated her, despite her attempts to quell the excitement that rose within her.
You have
caught my eye, my heart and nearly all my wits, you rogue.

Aloud she replied, “Aye, my lord. I am much amazed by your skill with the bow,” which was the truth.

Lady Alicia chuckled. “Our Andrew has always been a man of surprises,” she remarked with a knowing look.

He flushed and took another drink.

Guy leaned around his mother and winked at Rosie. “Don’t let Andrew’s gray hairs mislead you, sweetheart. He may be approaching his dotage, but he is still the finest shot in England.”

Andrew returned the wineskin to its owner. “I salute your good father, Guy. He made me practice until my fingers bled.”

The trumpets announced the second round. With a deep bow to the ladies, Andrew returned to his mark. Many of the women in the gallery called to him by name and waved in a manner that Rosie did not think was very ladylike. He returned their attentions with many smiles and blowing of kisses. His behavior irked Rosie and she fanned herself to disguise her annoyance. Some of those noble ladies acted as if they owned him. Rosie told herself that she did not care a whit. After all, she was merely in his employ for a brief time.

That reminder gave her cold comfort.

If she had thought his first five bull’s-eyes had been pure luck, the next two rounds convinced her that Guy’s remark was true. Andrew’s final opponent, the Chevalier de Fauconbourg, had shot well, but even the French audience applauded Andrew when he was presented the prize of a purse of coins.

He rejoined his ladies in high good humor. “Didn’t I tell you, my dears? Didn’t I say they should have awarded me the prize two hours ago? Ah, but it gave
me good cheer to tweak the noses of those Frenchmen just a little. They have such remarkably long noses to tweak.”

Lady Alicia patted his hand like an indulgent mother, then she tapped Guy. “Rosie said she would love to see your new warhorse.”

Rosie gasped. “Haint, I mean, I never said—”

Guy made a face. “But, mother—”

The countess interrupted both of them with a silvery laugh. “Nonsense! Of course Rosie must visit Moonglow. Guy, take the child and, mind you, no meddling with her.” She gave her son a very stern look. “Need I make myself any clearer?”

Guy looked faintly insulted. “Nay, mother, I grasp your meaning to the hilt.” He took Rosie’s arm and pulled her from her seat. “Come, Lady Rosalind, allow me to introduce you to my horse.” In a lower tone, he muttered in her ear, “Did you know that a whore and a horse make good company for a man can ride both equally well?”

Rosie pinched the back of his hand and was pleased to see his grimace. “Mind your good mother, my lord. You are to treat me like a blessed lady.”

He arched his eyebrow mischievously. “Blessed ladies do not pinch.” He helped her down the steps.

Lady Alicia turned to the victor of the archery match. “Now, good Andrew, attend me for I have serious news to pour into your ear.”

T
he viewing of the horse was not a success. Rosie had rarely been close to one before, and Moonglow was an enormous beast. She stayed well back while Guy spoke to it in loving tones and fed it a carrot.

“He’s skittish because he’s young and did not like to travel across the Channel,” he explained. “But you need not fear him, Rosie. He’s only a big baby at heart.”

She did not budge. “Haint afeard, my lord. Not of anything.” She tossed her head to give her lie an appearance of truth.

A faint light twinkled in the depths of his cobalt eyes. Guy whispered to his horse. “Methinks the lady protests too much.”

Rosie was relieved when he finally returned her to the archery range. The gallery was practically empty except for Andrew who sat on the narrow bench close to Lady Alicia. The subject of their discussion must have been dire indeed, for Rosie had never seen Andrew look so serious. The two men-at-arms lolled at the base of the steps while Jeremy practiced his own marksmanship at the firing line.

Guy stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Have we
been gone long enough, mother, or should I take Rosie to look at kennels as well?”

The two glanced up from their conversation and both smiled, not at Guy, but at Rosie. She experienced a ticklish prickling on the back of her neck.
They have been a-talking about me.
She lifted her head with a confidence she did not feel.
Mayhap Lady Alicia has put a large flea in Andrew’s ear for buying a whore.

The countess rose and shook out her skirts. “Nay, Guy, no need to go larking off to the hounds on such a hot noontime. We are finished and I am parched with thirst.” She gave her hand to Andrew who kissed it with great tenderness. “Adieu, my friend, and remember all that I have said, or twill grow heavy on your conscience by and by.”

“Never fear, my lady. Your words are engraved upon my soul.”

Guy helped his mother down the steep stairway. “Shall I accompany you back to the tent?”

She smiled at him. “Nay, my boy. Off with you, but do not forget you are to joust with the king this afternoon. I shall applaud you anon.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “And I shall wear your favor.” He waved to Andrew and gave Rosie an exaggerated wink. “Come see Moonglow take the course this afternoon, sweetheart. I know how much you liked him.” Without waiting for her retort, he strode off toward the center of the English encampment.

Lady Alicia took Rosie’s hand in hers. “And just how did you find Guy’s precious horse, my dear?”

Rosie swallowed back what she really thought of the charcoal-gray brute. “He’s mickle big, my lady.”

She laughed lightly. “In case it has missed your notice,
I do have large sons.” Then she bent down and kissed Rosie on the forehead.

Her kindness took Rosie completely by surprise. Her cheeks heated with shame. “Ye…you should not have done that, my lady,” she murmured, not looking at her. “I hain…
am not
worth an oyster to you.”

Lady Alicia cupped Rosie’s chin in her soft hand and smiled down at her with a wrenching tenderness in her eyes. “Oh, my dear child, you are worth far more than you can possibly imagine.” Then she gave herself a little shake and released the confused girl from her thrall. “La and a day, Andrew! I am gone. Take good care of this sweetling until we meet again. Reece!” she called to her bodyguard. “I expect you are wanting your dinner by now. Come!”

With another laugh and a girlish wave, the Countess of Thornbury departed. Andrew came down the steps one at a time, as if he carried an enormous burden on his shoulders.

“Are you tired, my lord?” Rosie asked him.

His serious expression melted into a brilliant smile. “Nay, lass, I am newborn this very moment. Great Jove, Rosie! You
are
a gladsome feast for my eyes.”

She wondered if he had drunk too much of Guy’s wine. Andrew gazed upon her with warm approval, the lines around his mouth curling with a new tenderness. She felt a curious swooping pull in her breast.
Tis only hunger for me, and sunstroke for him.

Alicia’s revelation had opened Andrew’s eyes. Now that he knew who Rosie’s mother probably was, he saw the resemblance immediately. He had been an ass not to have caught it earlier, but he had never expected to chance upon a jewel in a dunghill. Rosie was the feminine
image of her older brother. Andrew sighed. Lady Alicia had given him the task of telling that rascal. Andrew feared that the surprised brother would not take the news with good grace. In the meantime, Andrew resolved to redouble Rosie’s schooling. Since she was born to a gentle estate, the sooner she learned how to act like a lady, the more likely her brother would accept her.

Rosie put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “Methinks your success has given you a headache. Do you want to lie down?”

Andrew swallowed hard at the suggestion. In all honesty, he wanted to lie next to her and teach her a number of unladylike things. Instead, he turned his smile up a notch. “I am as right as rain—if any ever falls on this wretched valley.” He hefted his purse of coins. “And I have something that begs to be spent, lest it burns a hole in my pouch. Jeremy!” He signaled his squire to join them.

Jeremy retrieved his spent arrows, then trotted over to his master. With a wink and a chuckle at the perspiring boy, Andrew drew a silver farthing from his prize money. The squire’s eyes widened when his master dropped the coin into his palm.

“You have done well this morning, my boy.” Andrew clapped the surprised youth on his back. “I decree that the rest of this most glorious day will be spent by all of us in the hearty pursuit of pleasure. Therefore, Jeremy, return my equipage to our domicile on winged feet, then spend this trifle on whatever pleases your fancy.”

Jeremy glanced at Rosie who shrugged her pretty shoulders. “Have you been too long in the sun, my lord?” the squire asked.

The boy’s stunned reaction only amused Andrew.
Sweet mercy, twas good to be alive! “Nay, my little waterfly! I am invigorated by its torrid rays—and by the shining beauty who stands by my side.” He bowed to the bewildered Rosie. “Mark me now, Jeremy. We will attend to our own dinner, but, I pray you, do not return so pickled in drink that you cannot serve us a sumptuous supper. Now, be off with you, scamp!”

Jeremy grinned, bowed and took to his heels in a dead run.

With a chuckle, Andrew remarked to Rosie, “Methinks my good squire fears that I will come to my senses in short order, so he had best spend my largesse as quick as he can.”

Bafflement tinged her beautiful eyes. “Methinks this new fancy of yours is madder than the last, my lord. You gave him enough money to feed a poor family for a month.”

Andrew ignored the truth of her observation. He was in too good spirits to be pricked by his conscience. “Aye, but there are no poor families here, only we who have no cares in the world.”

Her lovely brow knitted into a frown. Andrew placed a finger across her delectable lips before she could utter another protest.

“Peace, sweet lady. If it is your desire to benefit the poor, than we shall do just that.” He gathered her hand in his. “Come, we shall lighten my purse and enrich a score of hardworking venders.”

He led her to the outer ring of the encampment where merchants from many countries had set up a bustling trade fair. Their first stop was the food stalls. In short order, they had tempered their noontime hunger with a delicious repast of pigeon pie, piping hot apple tartlets, a crock of snails in a light garlic sauce, a generous handful
of cherries and a wedge of pale French cheese. They washed everything down with brimming mugs of ale. Dark slabs of spicy gingerbread studded with almonds rendered Rosie mute with delight. It pleased Andrew to watch her consume the simple fare with such gusto and enjoyment. The child must have been starved half her life. He vowed she would never again feel the sharp pangs of hunger. Her pleasure made his own food taste better.

Andrew wiped his hands and lips with his handkerchief, then passed it to Rosie and gestured that she follow suit. He did not point out the cherry stains on her bodice. Why spoil her day with needless anxiety?

He clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “Finished, my dear? Good, for my purse is still quite full and you have ordered me to empty it into the coffers of these poor purveyors and craftsmen.”

Rosie returned his handkerchief. “Nay, my lord, you mistook my meaning, but—”

He flourished the scrap of linen like a banner. “Say no more, my lady!” he bellowed so that several dozen people turned to stare at them. “I will take you this instant to the perfumers, and the glovers and the drapers!”

She gasped in the most delightful manner. “Haint ever—”

He held up his hand for silence. “Of course, 1 quite forgot! Our first visit must be to the jewelers!
How
could such an important destination have slipped my mind?”

Rosie tugged on his sleeve. “My lord!” she whispered. “You are attracting attention.”

Andrew looked around him and pretended to be surprised. He jumped up on the bench that had been their makeshift picnic table.

“What ho! Good people, I crave your indulgence and your most excellent judgment. Regard my lady.” He pointed to his blushing companion. “Such fine skin, such a bright eye, such rosy cheeks. But soft! Look you, my good friends! No bauble graces this fair swan’s neck! Not a pearl. Not an emerald. Not even a lowly garnet.” He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Alack and a day! What a churlish cad am I!”

“Sir Andrew!” Rosie pleaded in a whisper.

He cheerfully ignored her. “I admit it. I am a heartless brute.”

Rosie raised her voice. “Andrew, sit down, I pray ye.”

He chuckled at her slip, then he continued his address to the growing crowd. “A knavish, paper-faced pantaloon is what I am to have been so remiss. But, my lords and fair ladies, do you think I can amend this glaring fault? Will my sweet lady then forgive me?”

His audience cheered and several of the men shouted, “To it, my lord! Deck her proper!”

Rosie blushed a darker shade of pink. She bent her head and studied her hands in confusion. Andrew acknowledged the command of his audience, then he jumped down beside her.

“There, sweetheart. You have heard the
vox populi
—the voice of the people. I must take you forthwith to the nearest jeweler or I shall never again dare to show my face among this good company.” He took her hand. “Come along like a good girl, and pray, do not make a scene.”

Utter astonishment etched her pretty face, then she replied in a fierce whisper, “That was the grandest piece of tomfoolery that ever I clapped eyes on.”

He squeezed her hand. “Exactly!”

Andrew hummed a little tune as he all but pulled Rosie through the holiday crowds. “Now, if I were an enterprising seller of baubles and beads, where would I set up my booth?” he bantered. How utterly charming Rosie looked when she was completely mystified. He must mystify her more often.

He spied his neighbors. “Good day, Sir Jeffrey and Lady Karina! Gloriously hot, isn’t it? Lady Rosalind, here is Sir Jeffrey, a good friend and most excellent jouster.” Andrew whispered “Curtsy” under his breath.

Rosie executed a perfect reverence. He had to admit that she had learned that maneuver right well.

“My lord, my lady,” she murmured in a soft, dovelike tone.

After an exchange of a few more idle pleasantries, the Brownlows moved on. Rosie opened her mouth to say something, but Andrew forestalled her by spying the elder Cavendish brother.

“A pox on him,” Rosie muttered as Andrew dragged her over to Brandon. “These Cavendishes sprout out of the ground like weeds.”

“Smile, my dear! Brandon is your dearest friend and, by my beard—if I had one—it looks as if he has bought some fortunate young lady a pretty frippery. What ho, Brandon!”

The blond giant gave him a sick smile and attempted to hide the length of lace he had just purchased. Andrew swooped down on him, plucked the creamy bit of froth out of Brandon’s hand and made a great show of examining it.

“How now, my boy, what have we here? Do you plan to wear this in the tournament this afternoon?”

Brandon puffed out his cheeks with resignation. “Tis for a cheerful wench who has given me great pleas…”
He coughed and looked at Rosie, “Your pardon,
Lady
Rosalind. A gentlemen does not speak of such tales when a
lady
is present, does he, Andrew?” He snatched the lace out of Andrew’s hands and stuffed the item into his pouch. “If you must know all, tis to trim her petticoat.”

“Ah!” Andrew nodded as if Brandon had just revealed the secret of the ages. “But does this generous wench
possess
a petticoat to trim? That is the burning question.”

Brandon chuckled. “I will investigate that when next I see her. Good day, Andrew, Rosie.” Then he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You are doing very well, sweetheart.”

Rosie did a poor job of hiding her grin at his compliment. “So are you, it seems, my lord,” she replied pertly.

With a wink to Andrew, Brandon disappeared into the crowd. Andrew led Rosie down the row of brightcolored stalls. Suddenly, she gripped his arm.

“The devil take him! Tis Quince, and he is coming straight for us.” She halted and half turned away from Andrew. “Quick, my lord, afore he spies me.”

Andrew shot a quick glance at the bawdmaster. Though the odious man drew closer, he made no sign that he had recognized Rosie. Andrew stepped between her and the oncoming Quince. Dipping his head slightly, he said in an undertone, “Take courage, my sweet. Ladies do not walk with their heads down unless they are in church during Lent.”

Her lower lip trembled and her complexion had turned pale. “If Quince sees me, he will take me back. I know it.”

Andrew looked briefly over his shoulder. Quince was
almost within earshot. “Hold up your head, Rosie,” he instructed her in a firm voice. “Do not look at him, look
through
him. Tis an old ploy we of the upper crust use to avoid pesky creditors. To it with verve!”