As Robert helped her into her cloak, Isobel heard the bells of L’Abbaye-aux-Hommes, the great abbey William the Conqueror built west of town, calling the monks to compline. Geoffrey was there tonight, praying with the monks. He would rise with them twice in the night, for matins and for lauds, then again at dawn for prime, before returning to the castle.
“How did you persuade me to go with you to one of your social gatherings in the town tonight?” she said. “I am sure I shall hate it.”
“Who knows? An evening with the rich and dissolute may hold surprises,” Robert said as he opened the door for her. “What do you say to walking? The night is fine and clear.”
She enjoyed the long walk through the Old Town. By the time they crossed the bridge into the New Town, however, her feet were frozen. They were nearly to the far wall of the city before Robert stopped at the gate of an enormous house.
“Did I mention,” Robert asked without looking at her, “that our hosts are Lord and Lady de Lisieux?”
“Marie de Lisieux! You know very well I would not have come if you told me.”
“Come, you must admit to some curiosity,” Robert said, giving her a wink. “I promise it will be entertaining.”
As soon as they entered the house, Isobel noted with satisfaction that it was garishly decorated, with costly but unattractive tapestries and too much furniture.
“Hideous, isn’t it?” Robert said in her ear. “Wait until you meet the husband.”
Isobel had to struggle not to laugh. “You are a wicked man, Robert.”
The food at supper was like the furnishings: rich, but tasteless. The bread was not quite fresh, the fruit green, the meats undercooked and laden with a heavy gravy with an unusual gray cast to it. Isobel was as hungry when she got up as when she sat down.
After supper, the guests dispersed into small groups throughout the public rooms of the house. Robert settled with Isobel on a bench at the back of the largest room and proceeded to tell her unseemly tidbits about the people in the room.
“Do keep your voice down!” she admonished him.
Her laughter caught in her throat when she turned and saw a late guest entering the room.
“You did not tell me Stephen was coming.”
Robert raised his eyebrows. “You need to be warned?”
“Of course not.”
Still, the very last thing she wanted to do was watch Marie de Lisieux drape herself over Stephen all evening. The woman had her hands on him already.
“You seem tense, my dear,” Robert said.
“You are mistaken.”
Over the weeks, she’d become accustomed to Stephen’s company—and to ignoring the attraction between them. Of course, she’d not been foolish enough to risk being alone with him again.
Geoffrey and Jamie met her for sword practice every morning, regular as rain. Stephen came less often—no doubt it was difficult to rise early after a late night of drinking… and God knew what else. Despite her caution, she found herself warming to him each time he joined them. He was a patient teacher and had charm and wit enough for two.
How could a man of such talent fritter his time away with the most degenerate members of the local nobility? It was such a waste! And there was always some woman at hand, tittering at his jokes and giving him meaningful glances.
Robert raised his arm and called out, “Stephen, over here!”
Stephen distracted Marie de Lisieux with a blinding smile as he removed her hand from his shoulder and squeezed past.
Isobel took a deep breath to fortify herself. Was it to annoy her or to tease Marie that he wedged himself between her and Robert on the bench rather than take the chair opposite? He would amuse himself.
“I am glad you are here,” Robert told him. “I must leave for a time, and I do not like to leave Isobel alone. You know what these people can be like.”
“I am surprised you brought her.” Stephen’s tone was sharp.
“Stop talking as if I were not here,” Isobel snapped. “I am not a child to be passed from nursemaid to nursemaid.”
She was so annoyed she could almost forget the heat of Stephen’s thigh against hers. Almost.