Free The Bride of Windermere by Margo Maguire Page A

of grief for the young wife who’d been dead a mere six months. Instead, Philip hung on Kathryn’s every word, and hadn’t yet let go of her hand.
    â€œHow dreadful for you, my lord,” Kathryn said, recovering herself. “Was it sudden?”
    The trenchers were finally brought to table as well as trays of meat and fowl. Everyone started to eat, forcing Philip to stop touching Lady Kathryn. Wolf noticed the look of concern in Kathryn’s eyes over the bereavement of the earl. He knew she couldn’t possibly understand Philip’s true character on first meeting, but Wolf found her sympathy for Philip irritating, regardless.
    â€œNo,” Philip answered Kit. “My wife had been ill for some months... A stomach malady.” He waved the meaty rib of beef he was holding as if to dismiss the topic. Kit thought the earl’s attitude too callous. She knew little of the world beyond Somerton, but she felt certain that some expression of sorrow would have been appropriate. There was no doubt in her mind that the Earl of Windermere was a cold man, and his strangeness caused a slight furrowing of her brow. She could not know that her expression would be interpreted as sympathetic rather than simply puzzled.
    Philip paid almost exclusive attention to Lady Kathryn and that fact was remarked upon by many of the guests at the tables nearby. Lady Kathryn’s bruised eye was duly noted, though it was said she’d suffered some mishap prior to setting out from her home in Northumberland. No one knew quite why she was traveling to London or exactly what her relationship was with King Henry, though speculation was rife that the king had made her his ward and she was under his protection. They also said he would likely choose a husband for her.
    Wolf said nothing to quell any of the rumors regarding Kathryn, since he himself had no idea why she’d been summoned to court. Besides, Wolf decided the rumors and theories would be to her benefit. He suspected the less anyone knew for certain about her—especially Philip—the better.
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    Kit was exhausted when Philip finally walked her to her chambers. She wanted nothing more than for the clinging, lecherous nobleman to release her arm and let her enter her room. He had dogged her all evening and now, his face was close to hers and his breath reeked of old ale.
    Because she was a guest in his home and since she’d promised Bridget to behave, Kit did not trounce on his foot or jab her knee into his groin when he slid a wayward arm around her waist and flattened his sweaty hand across her buttock. “Such a sweet little morsel...” he muttered, even though Kit tried to move away.
    â€œMy lord, release me. Now.”
    â€œYou please me, Kathryn,” Philip drawled. “Young, tempting. What ruse must I use to lure you—”
    Kit slapped his hand away and was considering doing worse harm when Sir Gerhart suddenly appeared in the corridor, carrying one candle and staggering slightly, singing a bawdy little tune under his breath. He came toward them, lost his balance and knocked into the earl’s shoulder. Kit was surprised by his awkwardness, for though he was a large man, she’d noticed that he always moved with agility and purpose.
    â€œSo sorry, m’lord,” Gerhart slurred. “Wunnerful wine, marveloush party.”
    â€œBack off, ungainly oaf!”
    â€œPlease, my lord,” Kit stepped between the two men before the earl was able to draw his dagger. It wouldn’t do to have the two fighting in the gallery outside her room. Nearly in a panic and hardly able to think what she should do next to appease the earl’s unreasonable temper, Kit spoke in her best conciliatory tone. “My escort has...has...merely overindulged in your good wine...and...your hospitality. Allow me to help him to his chambers... er... so he does not further embarrass our party.”
    She took the candle from