Free Three French Hens by Lynsay Sands Page A

thoughtfully.
    “Aye, well, I am sorry if she has caused you any trouble because of it?” It was a question as well as an apology, and Royce reassured him quickly.
    “Oh, nay. She has been delightful. Of course, Lady Sabrina was another matter at first. She would not even let me talk to Joan for the first few days.”
    Lord Laythem’s eyebrows rose at that, but he shrugged. “Sabrina can be a bit overeager when a task is set to her. No doubt that is all that was.” He smiled wryly, his gaze moving to the brunette, who still sat in her seat at the table, watching them anxiously. “Actually, I must have a word with her. Her father was at court over the holidays and arranged a marriage for her. He sent some men with me to retrieve her back to prepare for it. If you will excuse me?”
    “Of course.” Royce stepped aside to allow the man past him, then took a moment to greet William of Menton and compliment Lord and Lady Menton on the feast he had just enjoyed before turning to survey the room in search of Joan. Catching a glimpse of her disappearing up the stairs, he excused himself and hurried after her.
    Brinna opened the door to enter Joan’s room, and found herself pushed back out by a hand on her chest.
    “I just have to check on something,” Joan trilled gaily before allowing her body to follow her arm out of the room.
    “What—” Brinna began in confusion as the girl pulled the door closed, but Joan waved her to silence, then glanced quickly up and down the hall before dragging her to the shadows near the top of the stairs to keep an eye on the people below.
    “My father arrived today,” Joan said.
    “Aye, I know. ’Tis why I came up here. To avoid him.”
    Joan nodded at that, but frowned as she rubbed her forehead. “This complicates things.”
    “Complicates things?” Brinna goggled at her, but Joan didn’t notice.
    “Aye. My maid came with him. That is who I was talking to in our room.”
    “Your room,” Brinna said firmly. “And to my mind this doesn’t complicate things. It ends them. You shall have to go back to being you. ’Tis for the best anyway.”
    Joan did not appear to see the sense behind the suggestion as she shook her head grimly. “Nay. I cannot. I need to—” Her expression closed as she caught herself, then said more calmly, “There is no need to end it now. I shall insist my maid rest for the remainder of my stay to recover from her recent illness and the journey here. That way you will not be expected to return to the kitchens, she will not get in the way, and we can continue with our agreement.”
    “What of your father?”
    “Oh, damn, here comes Lord Thurleah.”
    Brinna glanced down the stairs at Joan’s anxious tones, her heart skipping a beat as she saw him start up the stairs toward them. Her gaze returned to the other girl in a panic. They were both dressed as Lady Joan at the moment. It would not do to be seen together. “What—”
    Joan cut her off by giving her a shove toward the stairs. “Get him out of here. He must not see us together.”
    “But your father!” Brinna cried in dismay, resisting her push.
    “Just avoid him,” Joan snapped impatiently. “Now, get going.”
    The shove she gave her this time nearly sent Brinna tumbling down the stairs. Catching herself at the lastmoment, she cast a glare back toward the shadows that hid Joan, then hurried down the stairs to meet Royce.
    “Where did you go?” were his first words. “One moment you were behind me and the next you were gone.”
    “Oh … I … I went to my room to greet my maid,” she lied lamely, not surprised when Royce arched one eyebrow doubtfully.
    “Before greeting your father?”
    “Well, she was very ill when I left her at court.”
    “As was your father,” he pointed out dryly, and Brinna grimaced.
    “Aye, but—”
    “Your father told me that you were angered with him for keeping the news of our betrothal to himself and not giving you warning,” he interrupted