Free The Faithful Heart by Merry Farmer

room.
    Aubrey and Crispin had taken the seats of
honor on the raised dais at the center of the highest table. Half a
dozen nobles and their wives or companions tried to slide their way
into the seats closest to them as the servants set trenchers at
each place. They shuffled and postured to one another, teeth bared
in looks that could have been smiles or sneers.
    “Aubrey says everyone is trying to jockey for
position now that Sir Crispin is Earl of Derby,” Madeline confided
in Jack. She had to lift to her tip-toes to speak close to his ear
but couldn’t keep Lydia from hearing her.
    “Is that so?” Jack bent towards her,
narrowing his eyes at the crush near the head table. One by one the
nobles were settling on seats in order of precedence.
    “Aubrey says most of them can’t stand her
anyhow,” she went on.
    “Oy, the feeling’s mutual, mate,” he
grumbled.
    The three of them skirted their way around
the lower tables to the high table. Jack walked easily along to the
seats closest to Crispin’s right-hand side. A gray-haired noble and
his wife and son were already seated and watching the servants
bring the platters closer with eager eyes.
    “Oy!” Jack snapped at them. “You’re in my
spot, mate!”
    The gray-haired noble turned to goggle at
Jack. “I beg your pardon?”
    “You’re in my spot. Move!”
    The gray-haired noble sputtered and fussed,
his jowls waving until Crispin intervened. “If you would, Lord
Robert, I do usually reserve these seats for Lord John, and his
guests.”
    Crispin sent Jack a sharp look of disapproval
as Lord Robert and his family hemmed and hawed and left the prized
seats to find others. Jack sniffed at them as they left then
dropped Madeline and Lydia’s arms to yank out the chairs on either
side of the one he planned to sit in.
    “Ladies,” he invited them to sit with a
satisfied grin.
    Madeline pursed her lips, glancing furtively
around at the assembly of offended nobles who had witnessed Lord
Robert’s ousting as she sat. When Jack took a seat beside her she
leaned closer and said, “Jack, you should be careful who-”
    “It’s not wise to offend them, my lord,”
Lydia stole the words from her lips in a louder voice. She shot
Madeline a sly look before turning a winning smile and fluttering
lashes to the angry nobles watching them. “If they think you don’t
belong with them they will eat you alive.”
    Jack shifted in his chair like a petulant
child. “Oy, you’d think being made a lord by Prince John would
bloody well show them I belong.” He picked up a knife and jammed it
into a roast chicken breast as the servants laid a platter in front
of them.
    Madeline cleared her throat and sent a
sideways glance to Jack as she served herself a portion of the same
chicken using the utensils and table manners learned at the
convent. Lydia caught the gentle correction and repeated the
gesture, brushing Jack’s hand as he reached for a tankard of ale
from a tray presented by a servant.
    “Oops, sorry, my lord.” Lydia lowered her
lashed and pinned him with a look that turned the food to ash in
Madeline’s mouth.
    She set down her fork and took a tankard of
ale herself. She was going to need it.
     
    The restlessness that had kept Jack tied in
knots all day began to subside once he had some food in his belly,
but the sense of being caught in a dream was as strong as ever.
Madeline was there, right there by his side.
    “Oy, you want some of these vegetables?” he
asked, scooping a heaping spoonful from the bowl in front of him.
“Only they’re not as good as a turnip mash, if you ask me,” he
confided in her with a wink.
    She laughed and blushed up to the tips of her
ears. “Yes, please.” His heart plopped straight down to his
nethers.
    “I’ll have some too.” Lydia pushed her
trencher towards him, bumping his arm as she did.
    “Right. Here you go,” he served her with a
smile.
    Madeline’s smile had faded when he glanced
back to her. “What’s wrong,