“I am Margery Welles,” the woman said. “I had heard rumors of my brother marrying and…I guess they’re true.”
18
Isabel controlled her shock and thought about her good fortune. Bolton would be mortified. His sister was a beautiful woman, with the easy elegance of her brother and his dark hair. She wore such a stunned expression that Isabel wanted to laugh.
“I didn’t believe the rumors, because I couldn’t imagine my brother not inviting me to his wedding,” Margery said.
“There wasn’t time,” Isabel said. “Such things happen when one is dragged from a dungeon and forced into marriage.”
“Ordered by the king, I heard,” Sir Avery said, cutting amusement in his voice.
Before Isabel could respond, Margery motioned for Isabel to follow her inside, as if Margery were the mistress of the castle. Sir Avery and his wife trailed behind.
They ascended the stairs and entered the great hall, the smell of baked bread wafting in the warm air. Trestle tables were being laid out with luxurious white tablecloths, and hundreds of candles reflected in the silver and glass.
Isabel saw Bolton a moment before Lady Margery called to him. He had been laughing with some of his knights, looking relaxed. But at the sound of his name, he turned his head. Isabel watched his face harden, saw the wariness and unease register for but a moment, before a forced smile returned to his lips. Her stomach fluttered as he approached. He glanced at her briefly before pulling his sister into a tight embrace.
“Margery,” he murmured.
Love and happiness shone from his eyes as he gazed at his sister. Isabel didn’t think she’d ever seen such an expression on his face.
“Margery, what are you doing here?” he asked. “ ’Tis getting too cold for you to be traveling.”
“Oh, James, your coddling isn’t necessary. It is a beautiful autumn day, and we have just left London. The queen had invited me to court—can you imagine it?”
“Bolton!” Sir Avery said too cheerfully. “We arrived just in time to meet your wife.”
Isabel faced her husband with a cool regard. His smile remained, in fact broadened. Oh, he was good.
“Nasty scar on your cheek,” Avery continued. “How did it happen?”
“I did it,” Isabel said, not waiting for Bolton’s explanation. “He?—”
“It happened in our bedchamber,” Bolton interrupted, winking broadly at the whole assembly.
Lady Cabot’s women gasped, waving their fans as if they were ruffling their feathers.
“Isabel is a bit clumsy and uncertain of herself,” he continued. “I find such innocence endearing, don’t you?”
Isabel rolled her eyes. “Defending myself is necessary in a marriage like ours.”
With a little scream, one of the women swooned into the group, threatening to topple them all over as they caught her. Isabel almost laughed aloud.
“Quite a woman, eh?” Bolton said, pounding Avery’s back a little too hard.
Avery coughed. “Certainly a fine addition to your household. Willing to help any way she can, I see. Lady Bolton, what was that you were doing as we arrived?”
James thought his smile would crack apart as he waited for Isabel’s response. She looked haughty and pleased with herself. She was covered in filth, her face was smudged with dirt, her tangled hair fell raggedly down her back, and she’d just admitted she’d cut him. Could matters be any worse?
She coolly faced Avery and said, “I was helping out in the stables.”
Worse, much worse, James thought in disbelief.
Avery’s wife, Sarah, and her ladies tittered to each other. James well remembered a time when Sarah’s sweetness was directed at him. Now he’d only get her pity. He wanted to groan, but he laughed instead.
“That’s my Isabel,” he said, forcing himself to sling an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Always ready to help wherever she’s needed.” If he’d have come near her before, he’d have known by the odor where she’d been most of the day.
Avery Cabot was an ass—but a perceptive one. He had heard the rumors already, and came to wallow in his superiority. It had galled the man no end when James’s friendship to King Henry had become close. When James had expressed an interest in Sarah, Avery had pursued her with fervor. And now he was happy to gloat, to see how far and fast James had fallen. Sarah gave James a pitying stare as she whispered with her ladies.
