But today she wanted attention, and the deep crimson velvet of the cotehardie seemed to be doing its job. Of course, it wasn’t just the dramatic color. The gown was snug fitting in the arms and bodice and cut almost indecently low across the chest. If she could manage a deep breath—which she didn’t think she could—she would be in danger of revealing the edge of her nipples.

The undergown was a rich contrast of gold damask, trimmed with fine beaded and embroidered ribbon. Her hair was loose and held back from her face by a simple gold circlet. The gossamer gold veil that covered the back of her head was so thin and transparent that she might as well have been bareheaded.

She only had a few pieces of jewelry remaining. Most of what her father had given her had been claimed by her cousins (mainly Alice) as part of their inheritance. The simple gold necklace, cameo, and small ruby earrings that Joan wore tonight had been beneath her cousins’ regard. The bracelet that MacRuairi had given her was hidden, tucked under the sleeve of her gown. She didn’t want Alice to see it and ask questions.

Joan had taken unusual care with her appearance, and if the level of appreciation in the male gazes staring at her was any indication, her efforts had been worth it. But there was only one gaze she sought. One gaze that she knew required boldness and flashiness to draw. Sir Hugh Despenser, King Edward’s new favorite, only liked the best. Even as a young man, he had always surrounded himself with the finest, prettiest, and most rare.

Joan had known Sir Hugh for six years. His father—also Sir Hugh—had been her first guardian after the death of her father. She’d liked the older knight, and although the younger Sir Hugh had been gone most of the time, he’d always treated her kindly.

As a girl, she’d been somewhat in awe of the brash young nobleman whose striking but refined dark-haired, dark-eyed handsomeness verged on prettiness. He dressed richly and colorfully in clothes fit for a king. Though arrogant, conceited, and with an undeniably high opinion of himself, his bold, boisterous charisma and unrepentant, lavish extravagance had always amused her. There was charm in someone who made no pretense about who he was and what he wanted.

He had an unexpectedly strong streak of honor in him though. As she’d grown into a young woman, she’d been aware that his gaze had lingered on her longer and with a different kind of interest. But he’d respected her position in his father’s household and never attempted to cross that particular boundary—even when others had.