Elizabeth listened to all this with complete fascination. Many men tarried with serving women as a matter of course, but to get a gentle woman with child and then not marry her? That was another matter.
Yet Stephen had said circumstances had kept them from marrying. And hadn’t Lord Warwicke come to court to claim the child? Wasn’t that the act of a truly honorable man?
Far from discouraging her, Stephen’s remarks made her even more determined to know Raynor better. She had thought, simply by looking at him, that he was not a man to live by the rules of others. His long hair, his arrogant walk, the cool indifference in his eyes, set Lord Warwicke apart on first sight.
She smiled at her brother with not-inconsiderable charm. “I want you to invite him here to sup.”
Stephen stared at her. “I have already done so. But had I known then what I do now, I would not have. As I said, you must set your sights elsewhere, Elizabeth. Mayhap I will send a note and cancel.”
Sapphire eyes widened in horror. “You will not! When is he to come?”
Looking as if the reply were being forced from him, Stephen said, “On the morrow.”
“On the morrow!” Elizabeth rose in flurry of velvet skirts. “How could you give me so little time to prepare?”
His expression relaxed in relief. “I will simply go to him and explain that he can’t...”
She appeared not to hear him. “You must excuse me while I go speak with Olwyn. We will need every moment to prepare a proper meal. We will need fresh pastries and bread. And I shall certainly call in the butcher to kill a pig in the morning. We cannot feed Lord Warwicke salted pork.”
She passed through the doorway with a gentle sway of her slender hips, leaving Stephen staring after her. He knew he should be concerned for his sister, but the only sympathy he felt within him was directed toward Raynor Warwicke. Stephen would himself be here to see to Elizabeth’s well-being.
Raynor had no one to protect him from Elizabeth.
Besides Raynor had said he was returning to Warwicke on the day after the morrow. How much trouble could Elizabeth get herself into in one day?
* * *
The next afternoon found Elizabeth and Olwyn standing in Elizabeth’s bedchamber, looking at the array of gowns they had laid out on the high, wide bed.
“I think the red,” Olwyn said at last, tucking a stray lock of streaky blonde hair into her kerchief. Her gray eyes studied the scarlet cotehardie, with its embroidery of gold.
“Aye.” Elizabeth nodded. “It is my favorite, but I just wondered if the blue...or the saffron...” She turned to run her gaze over the nearest of the three trunks that stood open, their colorful contents spilling over the sides. “I did wear the other red yesterday.”
Tilting her head to one side, Olwyn frowned. “Nay, the red will do very nicely. Men never remember what you wore the previous day. Only that you looked well.”
Elizabeth grinned. Red was her favorite color. “Then that’s that. And I think I'll wear the new gold underdress.”
Olwyn eyed her mistress with surprise, then uncertainty. “But, Elizabeth, I thought you were going to have me loosen it. You told me yourself that it was too tight for common decency.” The slender blond woman went to the chest beneath the unshuttered window and took out a tunic of fine black samite. “I had thought you might want this one.”
Elizabeth blushed, but tried to hide it as she picked up and began to fold the blue cotehardie. “I have rethought the matter. 'Tis not so very tight.”
She would not have Olwyn know why she had changed her mind about the gown. The older woman seemed to think she must still look after Elizabeth as closely as when she had first come to them. But she was no longer thirteen, and would not be treated as such. Elizabeth hoped that if she made an attempt to be even slightly alluring, Lord Warwicke might find it harder to ignore her this night.
For the most part, her beauty meant little to her. It was not something she had earned or achieved by her own hand. It was something God had seen fit to gift her with, and until yesterday she accepted it as such.
But for this once she found herself thinking of her attributes in a different way. She would make Lord Warwicke take notice of her. He was a man, after all, and if all Stephen had said was true, Raynor was not completely immune to the fairer sex. Why couldn’t he at least pause long enough to notice that Elizabeth was a woman? She didn’t think that was so very much to ask.
When Olwyn continued to watch her with speculation, Elizabeth could not control the further rush of color in her creamy cheeks.
“What are you about, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth gave up trying to dissemble. Olwyn knew her better than anyone, and there was no use trying to hide anything from her.
She put the blue gown back on the bed and turned to smooth back the heavy amber velvet bed hangings with a sigh. “I do not know. I can’t explain what has come over me. I just saw this man for the first time yesterday, and I can’t stop thinking about him. And the worst part of it is that he barely seemed to notice me.” She dismissed that one moment of awareness, for it could have been nothing so much as wishful thinking on her part.
“Ah, Beth...” Olwyn put her hands to her slender hips as she sank down on the edge of the one chair in the room. “I should have known it would be this way. All these years the men have been after you like hounds after a bitch, and you don’t even look at them. And now one comes along who ignores you, and you lose your foolish head.”
The sound of booted feet on the stairs saved Elizabeth from making a reply. The footsteps came across the solar and halted outside her bedchamber. There was a scratching at the door. “Beth.”
“Come,” Elizabeth called out, recognizing her brother’s voice.
Stephen entered, and she looked at him with curiosity, as he was dressed for traveling, in a dark woolen cloak that was held together at the shoulder by a heavy silver brooch that bore the Clayburn emblem of a griffin rampant. “You are going somewhere?” she asked.
He seemed less than eager to speak. “Yes,” came the reply.
“You must needs hurry, as Warwicke will be here within hours.”
“Well, you see, that is going to be a problem.” Stephen looked at the floor. Then he raised his eyes and shrugged. “I am away to deliver a message for the king.”
Elizabeth knew a growing unease. “How long will you be gone?”
“Several hours.”
Disappointment flooded her. “Several hours. Stephen, how could you? You know how I have been planning this. Everything is in readiness.”
“It cannot be helped. We will simply ask Lord Warwicke to come at some other time.”
“When?”
He hesitated and Elizabeth frowned. “When, brother mine?”
“I know not. Raynor must return to his estates on the morrow.” He wouldn’t look at Elizabeth. Obviously he had hoped to avoid having to tell her they were leaving so soon.
She placed her hands on her hips, glaring her anger. “Do you mean that this is it? I shall not see him again?”
Stephen smiled encouragingly. “Mayhap he will come to London again in the future.”
“You know he will not.” She couldn’t seem to breathe past the unexplainable ache in her chest. It was as if something dear to her had died aborning. “All these years you have not seen him because Warwicke only chose to come to court when he was summoned. What chance is there