“What else?”
“I’m not sure I should say it in front of the children.”
Wat made a disgusted sound. “We taught you.”
“A troubling point in your moral development.”
Thomas crossed his arms.
Amelia had the sudden, unfortunate realization that he was doing it on purpose. Not the scowl. That was natural. But standing there with his arms folded, sleeves pushed up, sword belt at his waist, the front of his shirt still damp from exertion, making the entire yard feel slightly smaller because he occupied it with such unreasonable authority.
He knew. Maybe not all of it, not the full effect of those forearms, that scar, and that voice, but he knew enough.
Men were annoying in every century.
Hob cleared his throat. “Mistress Amelia asked for a mild curse.”
Thomas looked heavenward, as if asking whether surviving Evesham had been worth this.
“And you gave her one?”
“Aye.”
“Which?”
“Clotpole,” Amelia said.
Thomas’s eyes came back to hers.
For one breath, nothing happened, then he laughed.
Not loudly and not for long. But it was real, a low, startled sound dragged from somewhere deep, and every man in the yard went quiet as if the sun had risen twice.
Amelia felt it like warmth under her ribs.
Thomas seemed to realize what had escaped him. The laugh vanished. His expression shut down, or tried to, but the damage had been done. The men had heard. The children had heard. Amelia had heard.
Hob looked at the sky, smiling like an old wolf.
Thomas pointed at him. “Not a word.”
“I am silent as the grave, my lord.”
“Graves make fewer smug faces.”
“A flaw in graves, mayhap.”
Thomas shook his head and looked back at Amelia, and there was something softer in his eyes now, though his voice remained stern enough to herd sheep. “Do not let these men teach you anything you cannot say before Edith.”
“That limits the curriculum.”
“It should.”
“Edith knows things,” Hob said. “I learned half my best words from Edith.”
Thomas’s mouth flattened. “That does not surprise me.”
At that exact moment Edith appeared at the edge of the yard, carrying a covered basket over one arm and wearing the expression of a woman who had sensed her name being misused from fifty paces away.