Maid of Honor
Page 18
And, thus, it was as if the whole incident with Lord Savernake had never happened.
As if—Alianora sighed when they returned to Grassmere the following week. As if she had never been forced into an unwanted engagement; as if she had never met Lord Peter Cerestone.
It was easy to fall into her old life once more—as if she had never gone to town. That was, outwardly it was easy. She visited the mews, took Belisande and other hawks out for training flights. She exercised Geoffrey and the hunting spaniels. She played at prisoner's base with the gardener's children. Her father joined her in riding once in a while, visiting Old Grassmere to relive valiant battles, and sing good old ballads.
Percy was so humble and good that he began to be a nuisance so William allowed him to visit some of his school chums for the rest of the summer.
Alianora spent a deal of time beneath her willows, reading books of myths and fables and yet comprehending nothing as her mind wandered away to thoughts of a wrestling historian. No matter how busy, how diverted, all thoughts returned to Lord Cerestone in the end as if he were the focus of her being rather than Grassmere.
A number of weeks passed with no word. She felt restless and unhappy. The viscount had once proposed to her. Was he now so disgusted with her that even friendship was out of the question? It was so surprising how life could change in a short time. Life at Grassmere no longer satisfied her. She wanted Lord Cerestone, wanted to marry him, live where he wished to live without a backward glance.
He had said he loved her, did he still? Was she too caught up in dreaming now to face reality—the reality that she might never see him again? The thought sent tears falling from her eyes.
A note arrived from Fanny, written in a very carefully formed copperplate. Her skill on the psaltery had improved; she was riding her pony again. She mentioned her brother and Alianora's heart beat faster. Lord Cerestone had returned to Woodhurst but was acting quite strangely. He would ride away from the house and be gone the entire day, saying that he had to "practice" something until he had the knack of it. No one knew what it was. Fanny closed with a plea for her friend to come visit soon and teach her more songs for the psaltery and to write even sooner!
Alianora smiled. She would love to see Fanny once more, but could she bear to see the viscount if he did not wish to see her? Or worse, see him and a new wife if he chose to marry someone else? Just how strong was she?
The Countess of Wynyate joined her son in the morning room, allowing him to serve her her breakfast muffins and coffee. Katie came down from her room and wandered over to the sunshine streaming in the glass terrace doors.
"I see Alianora is already about," she observed, watching as her sister-in-law stopped by the riverbank and dismounted. "Not even in town did she ever acquire the habit of sleeping late."
"Town has changed her in many ways," the countess observed. "Some of them not precisely happy, but she was always one to rise with the birds."
"I am afraid that town engendered some discontent," Katie said. "I truly believed her to be in love with a certain viscount." "Perhaps that is it then." The countess nodded. "Perhaps we shall hear from him."
Brunson coughed in the doorway and announced that there was a certain knight errant there to see the earl.
The three of them looked at each other in surprise.
"Knight errant?" William asked.
"His words, Mister William," Brunson told him. "It may be something to do with our harvest home festival," the countess decided. "Your father is busy planning it now. The earl is in his study, Brunson." The butler bowed and left.
Katie ate a light breakfast for she was at that time when food could set her stomach quivering in the morning. She had just finished her coffee when William, about to leave and walk to the stables, called his wife and his mother to the terrace doors.
"Come quickly, see this. Most amazing."
The two women joined him. Katie gasped.
"I know him! That is Lord Cerestone. I was just speaking of him," she added softly.
They watched as Lord Cerestone, dressed in chain armor covered by a white surcoat emblazoned with a green and yellow device, rode straight for Alianora. She sat in the grass with Geoffrey grazing nearby.
Alianora was wondering if she should attend Buck's wedding, which was to be the following week. The viscount would, no doubt, be there. She laughed a little, relaxed back on her elbows, and watched a flock of birds fly over the river. Jane Finsbury had written to say that Cressida had eloped with Lord Richard Savernake. The two certainly would make a charming couple, she thought, remembering how they did seem to have an odd sort of rapport. At least she need fear him no longer. Geoffrey nickered and she looked back. She pushed to her feet in amazement.
"Peter!"
He was the embodiment of a medieval maiden's dream: a knight who rode boldly toward her, handsome with the wind whipping his dark hair, a helmet tied to his saddle. In his arm he cradled her psaltery. Stopping his horse by her, Lord Cerestone bowed in the saddle.
"Well met, my lady."
She laughed. "Well met, indeed, my lord. How skillfully you ride!"
"Why, I thank you. I have been practicing for weeks."
Fanny had said her brother disappeared to "practice" something. So this was what it was. He struggled a little to lift his leg over the pommel and jumped to the ground, even managing to land on his feet. He looked quite pleased with himself.
"Fanny ordered me to bring your instrument to you," he said, placing the purple-wrapped burden in her hands.
She laid it on the grass. "How is Fanny? I received a note from her and she seemed in good spirits."
"Indeed, she thrives." He moved a little closer and smiled down at her, his green eyes tender. "I believe you had much to do with her recovery. Your kindness and attention, your lovely voice and psaltery, all gave her a reason to live."
"Your love and attention mean everything to her," she said.
"And to you?" he questioned, admiring the way the sun lit up her long golden hair, the way her eyes seemed to hold the deep blue of the horizon in them. She looked down and away at his words, focusing on her psaltery.
"Is that why you came, my lord, to return my paltry psaltery?" An imp of a smile twitched at her lips.
He took her hand. "Say Peter, please. And no, I have come for this."
Her smile widened. "My hand, Peter, please?"
He laughed. ''Yes. Oh yes. Now, if I am only able to lower myself—" He slowly bent his knee, new leather straps and buckles creaking, chain mail chinking, and swayed a little until the knee hit the ground.
"Did you not practice this part?" she asked, eyes wide.
Huffing with the effort, he shook his head. "Somehow, thought it would come naturally."
"You did quite well."
"I thank you again. Now, while I am here in this precarious position, I must say something." She prompted him with her musical laugh. "Ah, I have only just spoken with your father and he has given me his consent. I now ask you please, Alianora, my love, to honor me by becoming my wife before my knee gives way entirely. I shall love and cherish you forever."
Her eyes danced. "This is so sudden, Peter, please. I must have some time—"
His head drooped and he groaned.
"I did not say how much time precisely and, as I would not wish my future husband to injure himself, I shall answer quickly and succinctly: Yes."
"Praise Saint George!" He rose with her help and took her into his arms, kissing her forehead, her eyes, just touching her lips. "Tomorrow, by special license."
She sighed, a sigh that was echoed by a trio of watchers in the morning room.
Lord Cerestone regretted only one thing as he kissed Alianora gently, then passionately. Now he would never see Tench without his fine caracalla wig! But that was one bet he was happy to lose.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve