“Beatrice.” Henry took a threatening step toward her. It was hard to see how handsome he was when Henry scowled all the time. “What are you doing?”
She could think of nothing to explain her presence. Sheepishly she waved at her glaring relatives.
“She does not know how to keep her mouth shut.” Henry ran his fingers through his hair, golden like her and Faye’s.
Beatrice wanted to yell she knew how to keep a secret.
“Nay, she will not tell,” Godfrey said. He had the look of their father, but his face was more finely sculpted. His hazel eyes were copies of Sir Arthur’s.
Beatrice gave him a grateful glance.
“She is a flighty piece, but she knows when to keep her own counsel. Don’t you, Beatrice?” His teeth flashed white in his darker beard.
“Of course I do.” Beatrice raised her chin. She didn’t like being called a flighty piece, but she had bigger concerns. “I have some questions.”
Henry glared at her, clasping his hands behind his back like a confessor.
Faye stepped around him and held her arms out. “Sweet Bea.”
Beatrice drew a big breath as she hugged her sister. Even travel stained, Faye smelled sweet as a lady should. “It is good to see you.” Faye drew back and looked at Beatrice.
“What is all of this about?” It seemed pointless to pretend she hadn’t heard the entire conversation.
Faye glanced at Henry.
Henry clamped his lips tightly together.
“What?” Beatrice asked. Why would they not tell her? This is why she was reduced to skulking behind tapestries.
“We will have a cozy chat later, Bea.” With a tired smile, Faye grasped her hands. “For now, could you please see to young Simon and little Arthur? The boys are quite worn out with travel, and I did not bring their nurse with me.”
“I heard everything.” Beatrice looked from one to the other.
Blank stares greeted her.
“Take the boys, Beatrice,” Henry snapped. “We will speak of your appalling habit later.”
Beatrice’s hated when Henry used that tone on her. “You are not Father.” Henry was only a year her senior. He needn’t think he had the right to check her behavior.
“Father placed me in charge.”
“Aye, but that does not give you the right to lord it over the rest of us.”
“Please take care of them, Bea.” Faye touched her arm. There were lines of tension around Faye’s mouth that hadn’t been there before. Shadows lined the skin beneath her blue eyes. Beatrice wanted to soothe them away from the perfect oval of her sister’s face.
“Of course.” Beatrice had not the heart to keep arguing.
Godfrey gave her a nod.
“I must speak with Henry and Godfrey.” Faye pressed her smooth cheek against Beatrice’s.
Beatrice kept her voice low. “Will you not tell me?”
“Not now, Sweet Bea,” Faye replied.
Beatrice swallowed the questions frothing in her mind. They never told her anything. It was as if she wasn’t even a part of this keep. She wouldn’t even know this much if she’d not listened.
Little Arthur still slept in Sir Gregory’s arms. Simon watched her approach with big brown eyes. His arm tightened around the knight’s thigh.
“See now, young Simon. Here is your aunt, the Lady Beatrice, to find you a bed for the night.” He had a deep, rough voice, as if he didn’t use it much.
She fancied she could feel his dark eyes watching her every move, weighing her up. “Hello, Simon.” Beatrice crouched eye level with her nephew. “Have you no greeting for me?”
Simon shrank closer to Sir Gregory and fear flitted across his pale face.
Her heart twisted as she looked to Sir Gregory.
“It has been a difficult night,” he said. “If you lead the way, I will bring them.”
Beatrice gave a stiff nod and rose. “I can carry Arthur, if you like.”
“My thanks, my lady, but he is fast asleep and I hate to wake him.” Sir Gregory smiled and his severe expression dissolved into the most startlingly handsome lines.
Beatrice grew breathless under the impact of such a smile. “I will see your tunic cleaned then. I see he has drooled all over it.”
“It matters not,” he murmured. “Come along, Simon.”
Simon grasped a handful of the knight’s tunic as they walked.
Sir Gregory climbed the stairs behind her.
There was a lot more to this than met the eye.
She led Sir Gregory and the boys to a small chamber beside her own. It had been used as a sewing room. Now, it would serve as a good place for them. “I assume you know all about the difficulty with Calder and King John?”
Sir Gregory gave her an inscrutable look. “It is not my place to say.”
Beatrice wanted to scream, but she doubted it would do any good with Sir Gregory.
“Can you tell me anything?” She tried to modify her tone, but it still sounded petulant.
Sir Gregory gently disentangled Simon’s fingers from his tunic.
Beatrice hoped he would answer.
He cradled Arthur against his shoulder, his hand spanning the babe’s back. “I can tell you the danger is real. Calder conspires with the king against your father,” Sir Gregory said. “Your father should be here.”
“That is what I say.” Relief surged through her. At last, someone had some good sense.
“But it does not matter what you or I say.” Sir Gregory calmly dashed her hopes. He shrugged. “Neither of us will make the decision.”
Beatrice clamped her lips together.
Sir Gregory inclined his head toward the sleeping infant. “Let us see to the boys.”
Settling her nephews, Beatrice kept her patience, but all the while, she wondered what was happening with Faye and Henry. She had the serfs find two pallets and make them up. Beatrice also arranged for some warm water. With Sir Gregory’s help, she washed the boys’ faces and stripped their outer tunics, boots, and chausses. When the children were comfortable, he helped Beatrice get them onto their pallets.
Beatrice went down to the kitchen and warmed milk for the boys. Returning, she heard the deep rumble of Sir Gregory’s voice before she entered the room.
Sitting on the floor beside the pallet, the knight spun an unlikely tale to delight any boy’s heart. Dragons, lions, and lots of thwacking with swords made up the largest part of the adventure.
Simon’s eyes drifted shut and stayed closed. His little face slackened in sleep. Such a tiny boy to be so afeared.
“I will see you settled.” Beatrice walked through the door.
“I will stay here.” Sir Gregory shifted on the stones.
“On the floor?”
Back against the wall, long legs stretched before him, he rewarded her with another smile, as startling as the first. “It is not so hard. And I do not want them to wake and be frightened.”
Beatrice’s heart melted. “I will send some blankets to make you more comfortable.”
“As you will, my lady.”