“In truth, I cannot say.” Lady Eluned sighed. “I keep myself far from court. Robin has been sent there with a message for my son. William will know best, what the king is like to do. We can only await word.”

Nan nodded, and tried to imagine Lord William fully grown. She had last seen him when she was a serving girl and he was an awkward youth making his oath to the king. She opened her mouth to ask where the king held court now, but she was interrupted by a lady at the door who made a deep courtesy despite the burden in her arms.

“Your pardon, my lady. I have brought the gown as you asked.” She held a stack of folded clothes, snowy white linen and blue silk, with a crespinette set atop it all.

Lady Eluned did not rise, nor look at all as if she meant to be anywhere other than on the floor. “Leave it here.” She waved her hand at the chair, and the woman readily complied. “Have water brought so she might bathe. I will help her to dress and call you to see to her hair.”

Thus dismissed, the woman nodded and left. Nan stared in growing dread at the rich fabric, finer than anything she had ever worn – as fine as anything a real lady might wear.

“Nay, my lady,” she said, looking up as Lady Eluned rose from the floor. “You cannot mean for me to wear it. I may be more than a serving girl, but not so worthy as to be wearing silks and pearls.”

“I think me a better judge of your worth than you are.” Lady Eluned took her hands and pulled her to her feet. She laid a hand on Nan’s shoulder. “No more can you cover yourself in the roughest wool and hide in the kitchen, Nan.”

Nan took a breath, trying to summon the words to protest. But Lady Eluned smiled softly and smoothed a hand over Nan’s hair.

“You have been lover to a prince, and may yet bear his child. Silk and pearls are the least of what is owed to you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

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He knew it was Nan who had entered the hall by the change in the sounds around him, the sudden quiet followed swiftly by the excited murmurings, all attention drawn to where she moved toward the dais. She paid it no mind, though she must feel it – she must feel him, the fixed intensity of him taking in the sight of her like a drowning man takes in air.