She hoped he would reconsider now when the boundaries no longer existed. She wanted to look in his direction to see whether his gaze was one that was turned toward her, but forced her eyes straight ahead instead. She didn’t want her intentions to be too obvious or show too much interest in him—men liked to be the pursuers, not the pursued.

Joan knew she was taking a risk—a big risk—in setting her sights on Sir Hugh. He was both older and savvier than the young knights she usually targeted. But if the rumors that he held the king’s confidence were true, it would be worth it.

King Edward had been mourning the death of his previous favorite, Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall, for nearly a year. The reverberations from the execution of the much-hated Gaveston by some of Edward’s barons were still rippling throughout the kingdom.

The exact nature of the king’s relationship with Gaveston and others he picked out for his favor was speculated upon, but as the men were often married and involved with women—without the king’s displeasure—Joan thought it likely something more than sexual in nature. The sodomy of which some accused him was almost too simple an explanation. What Edward felt for these men was beyond that—it was love, brotherhood, and friendship so deep and consuming that it bordered on obsession. It made him lose sight of everything else and not care that he was alienating his barons, his queen, and his kingdom with the largess he heaped upon his favorites.

The men already seated at the high table stood as she approached. De Beaumont held out his hand to help her take her seat beside Alice’s younger sister, her cousin Margaret, who had arrived at Carlisle Castle just before they’d left for Berwick. When the royal party arrived, Joan would take her normal place on one of the lower tables, but with the few women at the castle at present, she was being honored with a seat on the dais.

“You look exceptionally beautiful today, cousin,” Sir Henry said with a long look over her hand.

Joan didn’t like the speculative glint in his eye—and apparently neither did his wife.

Alice’s gaze narrowed. “That’s a pretty dress, Joan. I don’t recall seeing it before.”