An Uncertain Choice(19)

The duke had reminded her only moments before that neither he nor the abbot controlled her destiny. Whatever the future held was in God’s hands, and it was his will she must seek above all else.

Nevertheless, something hot slid around me, blanketing me and making me sweat.

What if she changed her mind about the contest? What if she decided she didn’t want to go forward with the month of courtship?

The thought was more unwelcome than I cared to admit.

A part of me pondered the irony of my thoughts. My friends and I had been reluctant when the duke had first broached his plan to us. He’d explained Lady Rosemarie’s situation and her severe time constraint of having only one month to fall in love or become a nun. He’d wanted us to compete for her affection, to do everything within our power to win her love. Not only for her sake, but also for ours. He’d been firm with us, telling us we were long overdue to settle down and get married.

And yet we were the closest of companions, and on the trip to Ashby had discussed how uncomfortable we felt competing with each other for the affection of a woman. In fact, when the duke had informed us of the contest to court Lady Rosemarie, I’d already had trepidation about the entire idea. A contest was a frivolous way to find a wife. If I must settle down, I’d much prefer the more traditional way — ?having the duke make an arrangement for me.

Despite our reservations, our leader had brought us to his goddaughter. And when Lady Rosemarie had stepped outside that first day, with her golden curls streaming past her waist and the loveliness of her smile, it had been easy to set aside our reservations. After a few slaps on the back, we’d resolved to keep the contest friendly and civil.

I’d agreed to go along with the duke’s plans, but not because of her outer beauty; rather because I’d witnessed her consideration toward the tortured criminals in the market. She’d shown kindness when no one else had. I had been unable to stop admiring her, even though I tried.

And now I was frustrated by my conflicted desires. On the one hand, I wished my fearless leader hadn’t pushed me into the frivolous contest. But now, after meeting her, my heart and actions betrayed me. I couldn’t deny that I hoped I’d have the chance to get to know her better this month.

After what felt like an eternity, the abbot finally reached the front of the Great Hall, only feet away from me and my two companions. “Your ladyship,” he said, giving Lady Rosemarie a small bow of respect. “I’ve talked with the sheriff, and he offers his pardon for disturbing you.”

I studied the sheriff. Even from across the chasm of the room, it was clear from the sheriff’s scowl and stiff shoulders that he was still angry. Did he recognize me as the knight who’d accosted him in his home? My helmet and armor had concealed me, mostly. But the sheriff was staring back at me, as though he’d guessed I was the one.

“If you give him your gracious pardon,” continued the abbot, “he’s agreed to leave peaceably without pressing charges against any of the knights.”

“Perhaps I should speak with the sheriff myself,” Lady Rosemarie offered.

The abbot leaned in and lowered his voice, but even so his words still carried to me. “His pride is wounded, your ladyship. And ’twould not do to harm it further.”

The conflict raging across Lady Rosemarie’s face gave way to resignation. “Very well. Send him on his way. But tell him I don’t wish to see him in my court again anytime soon.”

I wanted to urge her to question the sheriff further. The man had an attitude of rebellion that didn’t bode well. But I held my tongue. Clearly, Lady Rosemarie was young and inexperienced as a ruler. She still had much to learn, and it wasn’t my job to teach her.

When the guards urged the sheriff to turn and leave, the man’s gaze clashed with mine one last time. My pulse sped and I gripped the hilt of my sword. I didn’t know much about the sheriff, but from the derision in his eyes, I could tell I’d already made an enemy.

Once the sheriff was gone, the abbot spoke to Lady Rosemarie. “Word has reached me regarding your decision to participate in the duke’s courtship plans.”

“And are you agreeable?” She watched the abbot expectantly.

His face remained placid, but his eyes brimmed with concern. “I just hope that you’re not setting yourself up for heartache, my lady.”

Indecision rippled across Lady Rosemarie’s face.

“I shall support whatever you decide to do, my child,” he continued, “but I’m concerned that after experiencing such revelry for a month, you may find it more difficult to enter the convent and be content there.”

“I’m concerned about that too,” she admitted. Her gaze slid to the three of us. I had to keep myself from sighing at her indecisiveness. Something in my expression must have caught her attention, for she looked at me a second longer than at the others as though I’d spoken my chastisement aloud.

“It is a risk,” the duke said from beside her, his expression turning grave. “But is it a risk you’re willing to take?”

She didn’t respond right away. And I found my muscles tightening at the thought of her saying no, even though I knew I should feel relieved instead.

“My other concern,” the abbot said, his forehead furrowing so that his tonsure dipped near his thin eyebrows, “is that I would not want the duke’s men to unduly tempt your ladyship. You’re pure and undefiled, and I only want to make certain you remain that way —?”