Free Carolyn Jewel by One Starlit Night

of fact.” She counted off on her fingers, but the names went by in a blur.
    “So many?”
    “Naturally, there are one or two at the top of my list, my lord. I understand it is a great favor to ask you to introduce suitable men to her, but consider that Magnus might one day be a bishop. Why, he might aspire to York or even to Canterbury. It’s not beyond his abilities.” She leaned in, intent. “If his sister makes a marriage of no advantage? All I ask is that you make known your approval of her when we are in London. What could be happier for us all?”

Chapter Eight

    Ten past midnight
    P ORTIA DIDN’T MOVE FROM HER CHAIR when someone tapped on her door. With Crispin here, they were keeping later hours and, after all, she wasn’t in bed yet. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, but kept her legs drawn up on the chair. She wore only her chemise and the night wrapper she’d had since she was thirteen. Her hair was still loose even though by now it was dry. One had to expect that a woman who’d taken refuge in her room might not be dressed.
    Whoever it was tapped again. In the best case, her visitor was Eleanor. In the worst case, Magnus himself had come to confront her. Either way, the visit could only be about her and Crispin. “Come in.”
    The curtains weren’t drawn. Portia, seated in an armchair halfway between her dresser and the fireplace, continued to stare at the glass. On this clear, cold night with the stars shining bright in the sky, she could just see the moonlit branches of the rowan tree she’d planted. Already, the slender branches looked stronger. Decades from now, her tree would provide shade for whoever lived here. The door opened and cast a slice of light on the windows. Instead of the rowan tree or the stars, she saw a reflection of the door.
    With a click, the door closed. She had no need to look, she knew who it was. A moment later, the key turned in the lock. Her skin rippled with awareness during the brief silence that followed that sound. He put his lantern on the table beside the door. “The walls aren’t blue any more.”
    “I decided I liked this better.” She stood, but stayed beside her chair, her back to the window now, one hand resting along the top curve of the chair. Out of habit, she thought of all the times Crispin had been here. At night. When he ought not to have been and when the walls had been a pale blue. With them breathless and giddy. She gestured. “Moss. This green is called moss. Darker than the parlor, but green nevertheless and very much underappreciated, I do assure you. Except by me. It seems I overappreciate the color.”
    He laughed and looked around the room, taking it in. “I like it.”
    Her fingers dug into the chair. He took up all the space. All the air. “I was expecting Magnus or Eleanor.”
    “To take you to task, I presume.”
    She nodded.
    “I am the hero of this tale, you know. The knight in shining armor facing down the dragon. Did you not hear your sister-in-law praise me for rescuing you from a storm you were obstinate enough to be out in?” He wandered into the middle of the room and took up even more space. She turned with his progress. “I’ve already been thanked, so you needn’t add yours.”
    “I was not in need of rescue.”
    “No?” He looked around again. “Other than the walls, everything’s the same.”
    She made a fist of her hand. “What are you doing here?”
    His smile vanished. “She wishes me to join in her efforts to get you to London before you are married.”
    “Oh. Oh, dear. My apologies for that.”
    “Shall I?”
    She looked down and scratched an eyebrow. “It’s awful the way she gets what she wants, isn’t it?”
    “Thoroughly unsettling.”
    “Don’t abet her in this or any other scheme.”
    He nodded once and into the growing tension he said, “We should talk. About what happened at Wordless.” His voice was so brisk he hardly sounded like the man she knew. His voice turned