“Hold!” Thomas roared. How dare the little shrew raise her hand to his steward.
Isabel’s sharp fox face smoothed into an expression of pleasure. She swept him a curtsy. He wondered what piece of mischief she brewed now.
“Thomas!” she cooed. “‘Tis a joy to see you looking so fit and fine this evening. I have ordered everything in readiness for your supper. All is prepared—”
His tongue curled with disgust. “Peace, woman!”
In the nine years she had lived at Wolf Hall, Isabel had never lifted a finger or voice to order anything from the kitchen, unless it was a plate of pastries or sweetmeats for her own private enjoyment.
“Tom! Tom!” Mary called from the wide staircase as she half ran, half tumbled down the steps.
Her big brother smiled as he caught her. “What is amiss now? Mistress Vive?” He didn’t know whom he pitied more, his little minx of a sister or her tiresome governess.
“Nay!” Mary laughed as she wriggled out of his grasp. She dropped a fleeting kiss between Vixen’s ears. “You will never guess in two months of Sundays! Alicia knows all sorts of wonderful new games, and she is going to teach me one this very evening after supper.”
Barely hearing the rest of Mary’s excited prattle, Thomas looked up the stairway. Alicia stepped out of the shadow cast by a pillar. He caught his breath. Great Jove! The maid looked even more beautiful than he recalled from their brief afternoon’s meeting. Lifting her skirts a little above her ankles, she descended the stairs in a single fluid motion, like honey rolling down a knife blade. Georgie followed behind her. Her skin glowed in the torchlight, and her hair seemed to have a golden sheen of its own. Thomas realized that he was holding his breath.
When Alicia reached the bottom of the staircase, she dropped a graceful curtsy to him. She shouldn’t do that to me, he thought.
“Oh, there you are!” Isabel’s voice jarred the moment. “The kitchen is through that far door. Tell the cook that I said you may have some bread—and whatever else might be lying about.”
Thomas brushed past his sister-in-law. Anger ignited in his soul. He pressed his lips tighter, lest a harsh word escape them. He offered his arm to the vision of beauty who shimmered before him. He could not think of a thing to say to Alicia that would be appropriate for such a goddess’s ears.
“Thomas!” screeched Isabel. “That woman is not fit for the head table. She’s only a common merchant’s daughter.”
Grinding his teeth, he ignored the wasp in her expensive widow’s weeds.
“Good evening, Sir Thomas,” Alicia murmured as he seated her on his right. “I trust you had a good walk this afternoon?”
Thomas looked into her eyes to see if she mocked him. Instead he felt himself drowning in their sparkling blue depths. Her smile warmed him to his toes.
“Middling.” Without looking directly at her, he pushed their shared trencher a little closer to her.
“Thomas! You have not heard a word I have said!” Isabel plunked herself down on the seat at his left hand.
“Nay, sweet sister-in-law, and he will not hear you until you get the wet cat out of your craw,” Mary retorted across the table.
Isabel seemed to swell in size. Her hands shook. “Children should be silent when in company!”
Mary stuck out her tongue in reply. Several of the castle inhabitants at the lower table tittered at the exchange. Thomas groaned inwardly at this very poor introduction to his family.
Alicia chuckled softly. “I like your little sister very much, my lord. She explained a number of things to me this afternoon.”
He exhaled with relief. When he glanced at her, he saw that her smile had increased in its warmth. “Good,” he muttered.
The devil take me! I should tell her how glad I am that Isabel did not drive her away before my return. How can I possibly apologize for my churlish behavior toward her guardian?
Andrew proffered the first course of the cold supper. “Eels in aspic, my lord?”
Avoiding his squire’s knowing smirk, Thomas regarded the black-and-gray jellied mess on the platter in front of him. His appetite withered at the sight. Why couldn’t Isabel do a better job of the household management—especially in the kitchens?
“Serve the lady first,” he instructed the boy.
Without hesitation, Andrew turned to Alicia. “Eels, mistress? The serving wench assures me that they are fresh—somewhat. I would not swear by the creatures at all, myself, but ‘tis better than starving.”
The cheek of the stripling! How dare he flirt with my bride-to-be? Before Thomas could open his mouth or Alicia could help herself, Isabel lunged across the table and speared the choicest morsel with her silver eating knife.
“Methinks you are sand-blind, Andrew,” she reproached him with a sweetness that dripped poison, “or you have a great deal of wax in your ears. Thomas instructed you to serve the lady first.”
Andrew bestowed her a smile of angelic innocence. “Aye, and so I did, Lady Isabel.”
“Check and double check!” chortled Mary. “Yahoo!”
Infected by Mary’s good spirits, Taverstock barked under the table. Georgie added a note or two in a deep bass. Vixen chose to remain silent, though she made her presence known to Thomas by pressing against his leg. He cut off a small piece of his eel for her. He slipped the morsel under the table—and encountered Alicia’s fingers also holding a tidbit of the slippery fish. He sucked in his breath.
Her gorgeous eyes widened at the contact, though she did not move until Vixen had licked both their fingers clean of the last trace of gray aspic.
Thomas allowed a small grin to ruffle his lips. His skin burned where she had touched him.
Alicia returned his smile with one of her own that seemed to light up the furthermost corner of the gloomy hall. “Your hound must eat well, my lord, if she is to deliver healthy puppies,” she said, her gaze never wavering from his. “I pray your pardon if I have given offense by feeding her while at table.”
His heart swelled within his doublet. It hammered against his chest. “No offense,” he muttered. “On behalf of Vixen, I give you her thanks.”
“Rot!” spat out Isabel. “But what can you expect from an unlettered, common wench?”
“She can read and write,” Mary chirruped while she helped herself to a piece of cold roasted chicken. “Can you, Isabel?”
Thomas grinned behind his hand. He knew that the Earl of Bedford had not bothered to school any of his eleven daughters. Isabel’s father did not consider women’s brains capable of understanding numbers and the alphabet That Alicia could read came as a pleasant surprise.
“’Tis true?” he asked her. “You know your letters?”
“Aye, my lord,” she replied, returning his gaze. “Both Latin and English, and I can cipher accounts as well.”
“She…stretches the truth, methinks,” Isabel sputtered. “She will say or do anything to catch your interest, Thomas. No doubt she lifts her skirts for an empty compliment.”
The color drained from Alicia’s cheeks. Looking down at the trencher, she swallowed. Conversation at the lower table ceased altogether. Even Mary was shocked into silence. Thomas clenched his fist until his arm throbbed.
“You will keep that vicious tongue of yours within your mouth, madam, or I will be compelled to relieve you of it altogether,” he thundered at his sister-in-law.
“I