Knight of My Dreams (3 page)

Alice glanced over at the knight, wondering herself, but he hadn't been paying attention. Without answer, she began, “Oh, aye, well . . .” Lady Fairley suddenly brightened and grabbed Alice's hands. “I have a brilliant idea!”

“You do?” Alice asked warily, suspecting she would not like what was coming.

“You are young and would have a better idea of the kind of bride Jonathan would like. Perhaps you could help him, Alice.”

“Me?” She peered at her mother's friend with surprise. This was not something she knew anything about at all!

“Mother,” Lord Jonathan suddenly hissed in warning, but the woman ignored him.

“Oh, I do not think—” Alice began.

“'Tis a
fine
idea.”

Alice snapped her mouth closed and turned disbelieving eyes to her mother. Lady Houghton was suddenly standing before them, beaming. “Mother—”

“'Twould not be any trouble at all, I am sure, Margaret. Alice would love to help you with your son. Why, she knows plenty of lovely young women for Jonathan to look over. She's been here at court for some time now.”

“Look over?” Alice frowned, feeling herself react with indignation at her mother's phrasing. “Rather like looking over falcons, choosing one to hood and bind?” She wanted to be wed someday, but not chosen like property—and she imagined other girls felt the same.

“Aye, it is rather like that, is it not?” Lady Fairley agreed, to Alice's horror.

“Daughter, you can make a list and arrange for Jonathan to meet with those he finds to his taste,” Alice's mother enthused.

“'Tis perfect!” Lady Fairley cried, then turned to pat her son's arm soothingly. He looked wary as she said, “You see, dear? With Lady Alice's aid, you should have a bride in no time.”

The knight's only answer was a long, drawn-out groan. Alice sympathized.

“M
others!” Wrinkling her nose in irritation, Alice waited impatiently for the list she had just finished writing to dry. Thanks to her mother's volunteering her for the task, she had spent the better part of yesterday and most of this morning seeking out the names of every available lady at court—a sorry task, to be sure. There were a dozen other things she would rather have been doing, most of them away from here.

Once, she had been perfectly happy back at Houghton Castle, reading, walking the fields, spending her time in solitary pursuits. Then her mother had begun to worry that she enjoyed her own company too much and insisted on her coming here to London. That had been bad enough in itself—Alice had little patience for the preening and backstabbing she'd discovered went on here at court—but now the dear woman had promised to help her find a bride for Lord Jonathan. Not that it should be so difficult a task. The man was good-looking, strong, and was unquestionably a renowned warrior; the court's ladies would line up to be introduced. But what had possessed her mother to volunteer Alice for this endeavor? Good Lord, her preference for her own company and lack of friendships with other girls her own age had been part of her mother's excuse for bringing her here. How was she now expected to know everyone, and who would be suitable for a man such as Lord Jonathan?

Well, she supposed she had done well enough in making up a list of the available ladies. All it had taken was a little cleverness. Alice had sought out several of the loudest gossips at court and merely mentioned the task she'd been set. Now she had a lovely list. All she had to do was present it to Lord Jonathan and her chore was finished. Just thinking of the man conjured his face, and she found that disturbing. She paused in waving her list to dry it, and contemplated his features in her mind's eye. The man really was quite handsome. And he had been kindness itself yesterday . . . when he hadn't been scowling or frowning at his mother.

She smiled slightly at the memory, then stood. Oddly enough, she had found the scowls endearing. At moments, they had transformed the ragged knight into nothing more than a sulky and suspicious child. And it was clear that the man adored his mother, despite his stormy expressions.

“All finished?”

She glanced up as her mother entered the room. Alice looked at her list. “Aye. You may take it to Lady Fairley now.”

“Not I.” Her mother smiled. “I have an audience with the queen. You shall have to deliver it. I believe my brother mentioned meeting Lady Fairley and her son in the stables. No doubt you shall find them there if you hurry.”

“The stables?” Alice stared at her mother, aghast. “But Uncle has hated horses ever since—”

“Ever since his mount threw him into that tree, breaking his leg,” Lady Houghton finished impatiently. “Yes, yes. I have heard that often enough from him. Yet it appears he is willing to visit and perhaps even ride the beasts to please Lady Fairley. Speaking of which, you had best be off before they are away and you miss them.”

“Oh, but—” Alice cut off her own protest. Her mother was no longer there to hear it; she had rushed out of the room. Realizing that there was nothing for it but to see to the duty herself. Alice allowed herself a moment of distaste, then quickly rolled up the parchment she held and set off.

Neither Lady Fairley nor Alice's uncle were about, but she did find Lord Jonathan outside the stables. He stood, staring out into the distance, a frown once again clouding his handsome features. Alice paused for a moment to take in his youthful expression, amusement twisting her lips as she gazed upon him. Then, realizing that she was wasting prime reading time—her mother could hardly complain about her loafing around reading if she had an audience with the queen—she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and started forward.

“My lord,” she began. “My mother said I might find yourself and Lady Fairley here. Fortune has apparently smiled upon me, for here you are.”

The knight glanced around at her words and gave a quick nod. “Aye. Here I am. Unfortunately, my mother is not. She is off on a picnic with your uncle.”

“Ah, well . . .” Alice hesitated, as startled by his disgust at that idea as she was by the knowledge itself. Really, she found it difficult to wrap her comprehension around the idea of Lady Fairley being interested in James. The man was a twit. She could not imagine that a woman who had raised such a handsome and strong son as Lord Jonathan would be interested in such a fop.

Pushing the concern aside for later consideration, Alice offered Lord Jonathan a smile. “I suppose it matters little; I can place this in my lord's hands as easily as my lady's.”

“What is it?” the big man asked, giving her his full attention as he took the scroll.

“A list of all the eligible ladies presently at court. There are quite a few as you can see.”

“Quite a few?” The knight gaped at the list as he unrolled it. “There are at least forty names here.” He gave her a pointed look.

“Closer to fifty, actually,” Alice agreed, stepping back and preparing to make her escape. “Perhaps you could weed through the names and scratch off those who are obviously unsuitable. Then arrange meetings with the rest and—”

“Brilliant!” Lord Jonathan interrupted. He was looking at her in a way that made her heart flutter. “You and I shall go on a picnic . . . to weed through these names together.”

“A picnic?” Alice stared at him blankly. “Oh, I—”

“Well, I hardly know these ladies,” he reasoned. “I shall need your assistance in learning of them. And you have proven to be a rather quick girl. Come.” Ignoring her weak protests, the big man grabbed Alice's arm and rushed her into the stables. “We must get mounts, but then I know just where we will go.”

“B
loody-minded horse, bouncing me around like a sack of wheat! I swear, my arse is the color of—Oh, I suppose I should not be mentioning such things in your presence, my lady.”

Margaret rolled her eyes. James had been complaining since they'd ridden away from the palace into the king's woods, and often with very little concern for the delicacy of his wording. Lady Houghton's brother was rather cruder than she'd expected for a reputed court dandy, and were it possible to use an alternate plan now, she might have considered it. But it was too late for that. Jonathan was already responding beautifully. As she'd expected, her son did not at all care for her recent attentions to James of Houghton. She knew that, as she did for him, her son had very high standards regarding the caliber of anyone she would consider marrying. As if she would ever replace Jonathan's father; what she wanted was grandbabies!

Lady Fairley paused. Looking about, she drew her horse to a halt in a small clearing and dismounted. Waiting until she had both feet planted firmly on the ground, she spoke patiently while removing the two bags she'd attached to her saddle. “I thought we would picnic here. It is as nice a spot as any.”

The man stared at her, nonplused for a moment, then gasped. “Good Lord, you don't really intend to picnic, do you?”

“Well, aye, James. ‘Twas the idea.” Lady Fairley shook her head with amusement. Proceeding to dig out the woolen blanket she'd requested from the king's household for this endeavor, she asked, “Is that a problem?”

“A problem? Of course ‘tis a problem!” the old dandy sputtered. “Picnics invite all manner of pests and bug infestations. And there are wild animals out here, Margaret. They will be attracted by the smell, and we shall be forced to fend for our very lives over a scrap of cheese and mutton.”

Margaret didn't even bother to roll her eyes at his exaggerated claims; she merely began to lay out the blanket. Calmly she said, “We shall survive, I am sure.”

“But—”

“Do you wish to marry your niece off or not?” she interrupted impatiently.

Grimacing, the dandified lord of Houghton grudgingly dismounted.

Lady Fairley nodded with satisfaction as she settled on the blanket. “I thought so.”

“Hmm.” Lord Houghton's face twisted as he ambled over to where she was now pulling out several items from her bags. He eyed the food greedily, yet still managed to sound irritable as he added, “Aye, of course I want the lass married off. I love my sister and daughter, but Elizabeth has always had a sharp tongue, and Alice has recently shown a distressing tendency to follow in her mother's footsteps. The last thing I need is
two
harping women about!”

Lady Fairley smiled. Betty
had
always been rather sharp-tongued. The woman wasn't a shrew by any means, but she was honest. Especially around those she knew well, she did not curb that honesty with kindness. Her lazy, unambitious brother, who had stumbled into her husband's title, had been the recipient of such treatment on many occasions.

If Alice was showing signs of a similar personality to her mother, it was all as Lady Fairley wished. The last thing she wanted was a sneaky, conniving daughter-in-law. Or a pliant one. She liked to know how things truly lay, and she hoped never to have to wonder with Alice. True, the girl had so far been reserved and quiet, but Margaret believed that was just a show of good breeding. With the right encouragement, the lass would become the brave, thoughtful young woman that Margaret believed would be the only good match for her son. After all, didn't he need someone to challenge him every once in a while, as she herself had done all his life? And a wife needed to be honest, like Alice's mother. And she needed to be someone with enough of a sense of self to be naturally attractive to her son.

A rustling in the bushes caught Lady Fairley's attention, and she glanced into them suspiciously. Her gaze narrowed as she caught a brief glimpse of eyes peering through the branches; then they disappeared.

Aha!
she thought with satisfaction. Jonathan had followed . . . as she'd hoped. Also, as she'd expected, he had appeared to be irritated with her choice of companions.
Perfect
. Of course, she'd hoped to have Alice along with her son as well—she'd figured that the best way to get the two together would be to have her son in as many situations with the girl as possible—but everything was a matter of timing, and she would be able to work with this.

Wait!
Fate appeared to be smiling on her plans. Margaret was suddenly aware of a light pink cloth showing through the underbrush, and she was fairly certain it was not from anything her son would be wearing.

Turning back to the lunch she had just set out, Lady Fairley murmured under her breath so that only Lord Houghton could hear, “We have visitors.”

Much to her amazement, rather than finish sinking down onto the blanket—as he had been doing—the old nobleman straightened and pulled his sword inexpertly from its scabbard. He whirled in place, calling anxiously, “What is it? A wolf? A boar?”

Rolling her eyes at his panicked reaction, Lady Fairley tugged at his breeches. Impatiently she said in a hiss, “Sit down, you old fool. I meant my son and your niece.”

Really, she must love her son to be putting up with this clod: Looking slightly embarrassed, Lord Houghton promptly resheathed his sword and settled on the blanket beside her. He grumbled, “Well, you could have just said so.”

Her mouth tight with irritation, Margaret tried for a discreet glance toward the bushes, but she couldn't see anything. Hoping that the pair hidden there had missed Houghton's odd behavior, she sought out and found the strawberries. Now she would enact the second part of her plan.

“W
hat are we doing?”

“Shh,” Jonathan hissed at Alice, squinting at the pair in the clearing, trying to sort out what was happening. Lord Houghton had jumped up and done a brief spin on the blanket with his sword drawn—as if preparing to fend off a horde of bandits.

Was the old fool trying to impress his mother by acting out made-up tales of bravery? If so, all would be well. Lady Fairley was nothing if not a bright woman, hardly the sort to be impressed by such posturing—especially by such a jester as Lord Houghton. The man was no match for Jonathan's father—now, there had been a true knight and husband!