Quickly, he pulled his hood closer, letting it hang as far down as he could manage, angling his face away from her. He forced himself to breathe slowly and said a silent prayer that she would not see him, not recognize him.

He had been barely fourteen when she had come to visit her son and spent an afternoon in conversation with him and Gryff. There were as many years on his face as hers, he reasoned, and a scar, and he had the advantage of having been a forgettable boy while she was as great and formidable a lady then as she was now.

If Will’s father was dead, then she must have remarried this Lord Robert. A new lordship of Darian in Wales – he had heard this was what Edward had done with the conquered land, parceling it out to favorites. It was true to Lady Eluned’s nature, to keep herself in power and wealth by marrying a man who had been granted Welsh lands. And somehow she had come to know Nan, whose hand she clasped tight in fond greeting, a palm cupping her cheek, affectionate as a mother. She did not look in Gryff’s direction, so focused was she on Nan.

And Nan... Nan was giving her such a look that it stunned him. It reminded him of when she had seen her sister, all the joy and relief and love, but with something more. Respect and reverence. He thought of her face in the glow of firelight, a half-peeled turnip in her hands as she said, A great lady saved me.

This was the lady. Lady Eluned had saved her. Of all people, Lady Eluned.

He drifted slowly backward, praying he might inch his way out of the room before being noticed, as they conversed with perfect ease of ordinary things. Yes, Nan had been to Lincoln, and her tone forbade speaking of it any further as Gryff stole a glance at the other ladies in the room. He thought he recognized one, and pulled his hood even closer. Lady Eluned was explaining that they had journeyed out of Wales to do business at court and had only lately come to Whitting, while Gryff took a small step backward, almost stepping on Fuss.

Their voices went on, a gentle rise and fall as he prayed for a quiet and unseen escape from this pleasant lion’s den. Word had come from Morency that Sir Gerald was healing well; the prioress at Broadholme sent greetings to Lady Eluned who was a patroness of the order; they had worried for Nan when they received word of the attack that had injured Sir Gerald. All the while, Gryff kept his head down and made his way to the door, inch by slow inch.