But as she didn’t look forward to telling Sir Hugh that she had indeed reconsidered, she was glad when they arrived back at Berwick to be told that her cousin “needed her immediately,” and that she was to “find her the instant she arrived.”

Thank goodness for her cousin’s “emergencies.” Joan wondered which hem had come undone or which stain “the stupid laundress” had not gotten out. For someone so concerned with her appearance, her cousin was not a neat eater or drinker. She had dribbles of wine and greasy fingermarks on her gowns after each meal. Stains that, of course, it was the laundry maid’s responsibility to get out—not Alice’s to keep clean.

But before Joan could answer her cousin’s summons, Sir Hugh caught her by the wrist. She tried not to flinch. There was nothing offensive or repulsive about his touch, yet there was no denying that something about it felt that way.

“I will expect to see you tonight.” His voice left no room for argument.

She pretended to misunderstand. “I will be at the evening meal if my cousin does not need me.”

“See that she doesn’t,” he said, his gaze holding hers. “And I wasn’t talking about the evening meal.”

The surprise that widened her eyes did not need to be feigned. He certainly didn’t waste any time.

She was tempted to tell him of her decision right then, but wanting at that moment only to get away, she merely nodded.

He released her, and she went to join Margaret, who had waited for her. “What was that about?”

Joan shook her head. “Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.” Realizing Joan wasn’t going to say anything, Margaret added, “Be careful with him, cousin. Sir Hugh is spoiled, and not used to being told no.”

Once again realizing how astute—maybe too astute—her cousin was, Joan nodded.

A few minutes later they entered a maelstrom. Every item of clothing that her cousin possessed seemed to be strewn across all available surfaces of the bedchamber. A young maid—Bess—was standing before the fireplace twisting her hands and near tears. She’d never looked so relieved to see anyone.

Joan immediately took control. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Finally!” Alice said, turning from where she was buried under a stack of velvet, wool, and silk. “If I’d known you were going to be gone so long, I would never have agreed to let you go. I needed you.”

Joan ignored the dramatics and didn’t point out that she’d been gone only a half-day—less time than she’d told her.