Lady fit for a Lord Page 2

  Juliana had an easier life. Though perhaps her own sacrifice had been no less staunch: to be the perfect daughter her mother demanded, ever since Caroline first began a more masculine life.

  Emmanuel mused on that. He did not recall Juliana ever performing a lesser role. But that must be a strain, also. Surely no girl could be made so entirely in the image of her mother by nature alone.

  Charles was still speaking. Emmanuel recalled himself to the conversation with a guilty start.

  "But they look forward to seeing her," Charles said, evidently concluding a lengthy reflection. Emmanuel permitted himself a moment of sheer relief not to have heard a single word. "And the excitement of a tournament - I was remiss not to allow them to be seen when we held ours. They have been most discontented ever since. But you know how these things are, one never quite knows who might attend. Girls are so impressionable. This next event, though, private invitations only, I have no misgivings at all. You'll be there, I trust?"

  "Absolutely," Emmanuel said, thinking of Juliana travelling with him there and back. He'd make sure the cart was well supplied with cushions. Like her mother, he doubted she would ride further than an hour or so - though while she did, he would have the pleasure of accompanying her. That was a thought worth dwelling on, too.

  "Confidentially, old friend," Charles said, lowering his voice although only the two of them were in the room, "I am hoping to find a match for Juliana. It's high time she was married. She's held back very prettily for Caroline, nothing but gracious patience, she has a truly exemplary devotion to her sisters. But she's of an age to look about her, and I have others coming up behind." Charles shook his head. "Eight girls, you have no idea what my cares are."

  "I don't," Emmanuel conceded, because he only had one daughter, and she was raised elsewhere. "But I can imagine. Still, Juliana is rather young. There is no great hurry, I trust."

  "None," Charles assured him. "But it's an excellent opportunity."

  Yes. It was. Emmanuel could see that all too clearly. Jealousy seethed in him at the mere thought of the eligible men who would soon swarm around his own chosen girl. And she might look favourably upon one of them, might want him for a husband instead of Emmanuel.

  "Anything amiss?" Charles asked in his usual bluff manner. "You look as if you've bitten into a gall bladder."

  "Toothache," Emmanuel lied. "Caught a crack on the jaw from some bastard brigand, and I think it unsettled a root. Never mind, it will heal. About this boundary change - "

  He dismantled Charles' laborious arguments with swift strokes, proposed his own solution, argued for it with resolution. Found to his satisfaction that Charles reluctantly agreed.

  "Very well," Emmanuel concluded, better pleased with his host than before. "I'll put it to the other lords, and I doubt any of them will object. As for this tourney of Alan's, you may count on my being there. And I'll keep an eye out for a suitable match for Juliana. Perhaps you are right in making provision for her soon. She is not a little girl any more."

  ***

  CHAPTER 2

  There. She was ready.

  Juliana smoothed down her tunic, adjusted the belt, wished she could see herself whole. She wanted to look pretty - no, more than that: she wanted to look beautiful, desirable, a girl Emmanuel might marry.

  She wanted to be irresistible. Pity she didn't know how.

  Worse, there was no one to ask. Except Mother, but Juliana didn't dare confide those secret hopes. Mother would laugh at her, or else demolish her pretence at womanhood with that crisp voice that made Juliana feel like a silly little child.

  If only she could believe that Emmanuel wanted her. She'd be happy then, she'd simply ask him what he desired and then do everything in her power to become the wife he craved.

  Instead she had to guess, from what she'd heard in songs and stories, and from all the stern advice Mother had given over the years. Which didn't seem to work terribly well, because Emmanuel had effortlessly resisted whatever charm Juliana had managed to convey so far.

  But she was at least dressed for the occasion, in a new tunic made up from a soft blue fabric Mother said suited her, cinched over the hips by a neatly stitched belt she particularly liked. Mother had combed and dressed her hair, which was a lot better than Merin's half-hearted efforts. Juliana could at least be sure the job had been done properly. And she wore a ring, a thin gold band that carried a sliver of emerald. Mother had given it to her last birthday, and Juliana liked the effect: it made her hands look more grown up.

  "Neat enough?" Juliana asked, making a slow turn. It was as near as she dared go to attempting to ascertain whether she possessed sufficient beauty to capture a man's heart.

  Mother gave her a critical stare. "Yes. That's a good colour on you. But the belt is a little quiet. We should get you something brighter."

  "I like this one," Juliana said, trying to sound cheerful and not defensive. It didn't work particularly well.

  "Too late to change it now," Mother admitted. "Perhaps you can borrow one of Caroline's. You'll be on display - only somewhat, you needn't worry over it. But men will be taking an interest. We want you to look your best."

  "Of course," Juliana agreed. On this point, they were at one. Let Mother dress her to appeal to other men, if she wished. Juliana's heart was set on snaring Emmanuel.

  She was resolved. If her own efforts could do it, she would have him for a husband. Him, or no one at all.

  Obviously she didn't say that to Mother. Just smiled and curtsied, and made another slow turn.

  "Yes," Mother said. "It will do. You'll be among friends, but one never knows..."

  "Knows what?" Juliana queried, uneasy.

  "Perhaps you'll meet people of importance. You are used to being among friends, who already know you closely, but strangers will abide by their first impression."

  "Yes." Juliana pondered that for a moment. It would be odd to find herself among strangers. But her family would be there.

  Emmanuel, too. She would even arrive in his company. The thought gladdened her. With him at her side, she could brave any number of new experiences.

  "Since the two of you are ready, you'd better wait in the hall," Mother said. "Then you can leave as soon as Emmanuel comes by. It wouldn't do to keep him waiting. And mind your manners while you travel with him. He's a friend of the family, true, but he's still a lord of considerable influence. Do not displease him."

  As if she would! Juliana merely curtsied. Such a ludicrous suggestion did not even deserve a reply.

  "Go, then," Mother said, and turned to the younger girls with a sigh.

  Juliana caught Merin and dragged her downstairs.

  They didn't have to wait long. A quarter hour at most, and then Emmanuel's messenger arrived with a polite request that they make ready to receive him.

  "We can do better than that," Juliana said. "Tell him we'll meet him in the lane." It was a short ride, and there was not much point in bringing lord and retinue into the hall, only to have them depart again. She sent a servant upstairs to let Mother know they were leaving, politely offered refreshments to the messenger who declined just as courteously and set off on his new errand. Then the girls wandered down to the stables, where the groom had horses ready.

  Emmanuel met them in person, halfway down the lane. Juliana smiled the moment she saw him, but by the time they got close enough to exchange greetings she felt too embarrassed to meet his eye. So she studied his tunic instead, well made from fine material, but stained with use and travel. He ought to take better care of himself, she thought, he was an important lord and should look like one. There was no reason for him to appear slovenly, even among friends.

  His cloak could do with some attention, too. There was a distinct tear at the hem, almost a fingernail in length, quite apart from the dust - which last, she conceded charitably, could hardly be avoided when riding out on a sunny day. There was a chill in the air that spoke of winter, but spring lay firmly established all around them, birds chir
ruping and green things growing, exactly as the world should be.

  Juliana liked things orderly. The winter had pleased her, crystalline snowfall and icy winds. Now it was time for soft warmth and sunshine to arrive, and here it came, as if at her command.

  Emmanuel invited her to ride alongside him, and she did so, mindful of Mother's strictures. Though she would have preferred to stay behind him, only a step or two, not far. She could look at him then, study the firm set of his shoulders and the easy confidence with which he handled his horse, admire him without risking accusation. But next to him, she hardly dared venture a glance for fear he would know her feelings - or worse, that someone else would know, and ridicule her for them. She could not bear to be talked about in that way.

  "You're looking forward to the event, I take it," he said, once they had disposed of the weather and the road as topics of conversation. It was not the most engaging of dialogues, but Juliana didn't mind. Mostly she was concerned with preventing herself from blushing, and with keeping her voice steady.

  "Very much," she managed in a soft tone. "It will be interesting to see - "

  "The fighting," Merin broke in, all enthusiasm. "I could hear it, you know, when we had ours, and I wasn't allowed out to see. It was so infuriating. But we found a spot up on the roof, where the guard post is, and took turns to hide out there."

  "Did you?" Emmanuel laughed. "Resourceful. I like that."

  "But we still couldn't see much. The stand was in the way."

  "Pity."

  "Yes. And we weren't allowed to the banquets, either, though God knows they kept us awake long enough. It was all so unfair."

  "And noisy."

  "You have no idea," Merin said with a dramatic sigh.

  Even Juliana smiled. "It wasn't that bad."

  "Well, you didn't sleep."

  "That's because I had you chattering in my ear the whole time."

  "Oh. Sorry." Merin had the grace to look embarrassed. "Anyway it will be so much fun watching this one properly."

  "And we'll be allowed at the banquet," Juliana said with relish. Whole hours during which she could see Emmanuel, hear him, stay as close as she dared - and without suspicion, because there would be many other people there. Too many, surely, for anyone to notice what she did, or suspect her of excessive interest.

  Whereas here on the road... They were in company, true, but she still felt exposed. Not watched, exactly - but on display, as Mother put it. As if her every word and gesture were being weighed, considered, and judged.

  She wasn't sure by whom. Not the retinue, surely, who kept a respectful distance and who in any case must have more important matters to consider. Hopes. Memories. Injuries. She knew they had been away fighting recently: Emmanuel had told her so.

  All of a sudden her own life seemed small and confined. Happy, yes, and intensely interesting to herself, full of intriguing minutiae. But not something to discuss with men who'd travelled, and fought, and known all sorts of things she had no inkling of.

  She cast around for a topic. All she could think of was things her mother had already said.

  "So you like our plans for the orchard," she managed, because she had to say something or else she would be overwhelmed by self-consciousness once again.

  "I do." Emmanuel smiled. "Thought of implementing something like it myself, but never got around to acting on the idea. I'll be interested to see how the changes work out."

  "There should be a significant increase in yield," Juliana said, and briefly mentioned her own reasons for making that prediction. She would have gone on to list the advantages he and Mother had already discussed, simply for the joy of talking to him, except that Merin found some new excitement to share.

  Juliana rode without speaking after that. There was no need for her to say anything: Merin spoke for two. Emmanuel indulged her, and the pair of them chatted amicably for what felt like hours. Juliana shot them the occasional envious glance. She wished she could have that ease, too.

  She'd never had it. Not really. Even at home, where she felt happy and comfortable enough, she was usually quiet. Listening to Mother, or to Merin, or the younger girls. Not to Caroline any more, thank God. Juliana loved her sister dearly, but they shared very little in the way of interests or beliefs.

  Still, it was pleasant to dawdle like this in the sunshine, studying the crisp outlines of the landscape around her and listening to Emmanuel's voice. She enjoyed it until saddle-soreness overcame her, and she reluctantly broached the subject of the cart.

  "Of course." Emmanuel waved the groom forward to lift her from the horse, saw her settled comfortably among the cushions. Then rode on without her, tall and strong and handsome, in perfect command of himself and the world, hopelessly out of her reach.

  ***

  Thank God that was over. Emmanuel gave himself over to the relief of wine and masculine conversation. Merin hadn't shut up all through the journey. She'd lasted longer on horseback than he'd thought her capable of, and even once she was settled in the cart he'd heard her chirruping behind him, tireless and exhausting.

  While Juliana had barely spoken at all. Her voice he'd have listened to with genuine pleasure, even if all she did was repeat her mother's patterns of conversation. Shyness, maybe. She wasn't dull: even where he thought Madeline had covered every angle, Juliana found something new to say. She had a sharp mind for such a young woman, and an exactness that appealed to him. Details mattered to her. To him, also, because it was details that made the difference, whether in estate management or bloody combat.

  But he couldn't talk to her about that. Didn't get a chance, anyway, with that sister of hers chattering constantly. God, what Charles must live with every day.

  The soothing effect of calm male voices was bliss. Emmanuel nodded casual agreement to remarks he'd scarcely heard, raised a hand in brief greeting as friends hailed him, allowed Alan to steer him towards a place of honour.

  Emmanuel studied this new acquaintance. A sly young man, under the cheerful face and courteous demeanour. He spoke with the perfect blend of respect and friendliness, but each of his sentences built upon the last, pushing towards an inevitable conclusion.

  Emmanuel had fought and ruled for long enough to recognise when he was being chivvied. Into a leading role at the tournament, it appeared. Well, it could be worse. He might have had Caroline to table.

  "I'll take the centre," Emmanuel promised. "It would be an honour."

  Here came the ladies now, suitably refreshed after the long journey, still weary but eager for food. Emmanuel's attention strayed at once to Juliana. She was engaged in animated conversation with Caroline, who looked so radiant that Emmanuel forgot decorum and frankly stared. Seldom had he seen Caroline so happy and relaxed. Marriage agreed with her, it seemed.

  Juliana, beside her, looked a little tense. Emmanuel noted it with concern. She was not miserable, he felt sure of that, but there was an air of uncertainty about her that he did not recollect from their journey together.

  Behind him, Charles and Madeline entered the hall with the rest of the chosen from among their brood. They had made good time, barely an hour behind Emmanuel's entourage. The greeting between Charles and Alan was good to see, hearty and cheerful, promising everything one could hope for between two men who found themselves newly remade as father and son.

  Emmanuel squandered a moment idly wondering how he'd take to that relationship himself. Alan was a deal younger, and deferred to Charles with the utmost respect. Emmanuel couldn't match that, and didn't plan to try. But if he married Juliana, that must irrevocably alter the relationship between himself and Charles. Which might be more of a loss than a gain, taken as a whole. They were friends and neighbours, that was close enough. Emmanuel didn't particularly want more. And he would never defer to Charles in anything. The power balance between them had always tipped the other way.

  Though it might not prove too much of a problem. Juliana was and always had been more of her mother's pet. Which was a pleasan
ter prospect: Emmanuel had always liked Madeline, ever since he first met her. Rather too preoccupied with cares, but that was natural enough in a mother and a wife. She had a sound mind and a clear way of speaking, and he appreciated both. Especially combined with beauty. He allowed himself to pause in his reverie, take another moment to admire Juliana.

  It was a poor move. She was speaking to a man - a handsome, smartly dressed man Emmanuel recognised only too well. Ralph de Niege, son to a powerful baron of Emmanuel's personal acquaintance. Nothing against the man, but he was Emmanuel's junior by almost ten years, a fiend on the tourney circuit by all accounts, and a widower known to be hunting for a wife.

  Emmanuel growled. Alan started, followed the direction of his gaze, offered an apologetic shrug.

  "A friend from the circuit," Alan said in a smooth tone. "I did not know you were acquainted. Though I hope there is no bad blood between you."

  "None," Emmanuel said with ironclad fairness. "He's a good lad. I know his father well."

  "Indeed?" Alan studied Emmanuel just a fraction too long for courtesy. "Then you have no objection to his fighting on your flank? I mean to set a formidable enemy against you."

  "Really?" Emmanuel returned the scrutiny, amused and intrigued. "Anyone I know?"

  "Possibly. A man by the name of Guillaume de la Mort. He fights alongside Matilda his wife, and they make quite a pair."

  Emmanuel barked out a laugh, he couldn't help it. The male half of that couple was familiar to him, and not merely from Charles' fond reminiscing. "Guillaume? I knew him under another byname, long ago. God, is that what he calls himself now? Well earned, I suspect."

  "Very much so," Alan said, rather too intensely for simple friendship.