tales of the latter kingdom 08 - moon dance by Christine Pope Page B
Authors: Christine Pope
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to the right.
Murmuring an apology for my tardiness, I hurried to my place, which was opposite Janessa and below Carella. When I had first come to stay at the castle, I had found myself somewhat angered by the designated spot where I must sit, since it seemed to signal to everyone my lowly position in the family, a cousin there by sufferance, a poor relation. I cannot say I was still completely reconciled to it, even though I understood the customs which dictated the placement. In that moment, however, I was merely glad my position at the bottom of the table meant I was safely separated from Lord Mayson.
As had been the case lately, the conversation centered mostly around Adalynn’s upcoming nuptials, with more of the apparently ceaseless discussions of the placement of the flowers and whether another course should be added to the dinner, and what on earth they should do if dreadful Cousin Patrile should show up the way she had threatened. I listened with half an ear, my thoughts far more focused on what lay ahead for me that night after everyone had gone to bed.
Even so, I could not help but notice the way Mayson’s gaze seemed fixed on me, so that every time I looked up from my plate, I saw his dark eyes glaring down the length of the table to the place where I sat. Although the food was quite excellent, I found my appetite wanting to desert me. Surely he was not going to pursue his suit, not after everything I had said both to him and to his father?
I couldn’t know, and that was most definitely not the time to ask. The only positive note was that no one else seemed to perceive his unwanted attention, and so I thought I could still salvage the evening, if only I was able to slip away after dinner before he had a chance to speak to me.
My luck did not seem to hold, however. The servants came to clear away the plates, and everyone stood. This was the time when my uncle would go to his study, while we girls would head to Aunt Lyselle’s sitting room for more conversation before it was time to retire upstairs for the night. But as I stood and began to inch my way toward the door, Lord Mayson said,
“Perhaps a turn outside, Iselda? For it is still quite warm.”
Trapped, I could but nod. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I noted how my aunt’s head tilted to one side, as if she was absorbing this new wrinkle and attempting to determine how it might alter what I had said to her previously on the subject of Mayson Bellender. Affecting an air of unconcern, I waited for him to come up to me. Then he offered his arm, and I had no choice but to take it so he might lead me out of the dining chamber and into the corridor, where a door opened up onto the gardens.
Despite my unease, I could not help noticing what a beautiful evening it was, the air still thick with the scent of roses, the first stars beginning to appear in the soft, lavender-tinted skies. A perfect evening for romance, some might think. Was that Mayson’s intention — to bring me to a place where the conditions were perfect for convincing me to be his wife?
I swallowed, but said nothing as he closed the garden door and began to lead me down one of the graveled paths. When we were far enough away from any open windows that even the most avid ear could not have overheard our conversation, he stopped, dark eyes intent on my face.
“I think you have been avoiding me, Iselda.”
Denials immediately bubbled to my lips. “No, my lord, of course not. It was only that it was quite warm today, and I did not much feel inclined toward activity. Up in my room, the breeze is very fine, and it is far more comfortable than in other parts of the castle.”
That actually sounded quite plausible. I waited as he seemed to consider my words, and hoped he would believe them. Then he said, “I thought we were friends, Iselda.”
My heart sank. Truly, I did not know what to say to him. Friends, yes, but he wished for more than that, or at least wished for me to be a
Murmuring an apology for my tardiness, I hurried to my place, which was opposite Janessa and below Carella. When I had first come to stay at the castle, I had found myself somewhat angered by the designated spot where I must sit, since it seemed to signal to everyone my lowly position in the family, a cousin there by sufferance, a poor relation. I cannot say I was still completely reconciled to it, even though I understood the customs which dictated the placement. In that moment, however, I was merely glad my position at the bottom of the table meant I was safely separated from Lord Mayson.
As had been the case lately, the conversation centered mostly around Adalynn’s upcoming nuptials, with more of the apparently ceaseless discussions of the placement of the flowers and whether another course should be added to the dinner, and what on earth they should do if dreadful Cousin Patrile should show up the way she had threatened. I listened with half an ear, my thoughts far more focused on what lay ahead for me that night after everyone had gone to bed.
Even so, I could not help but notice the way Mayson’s gaze seemed fixed on me, so that every time I looked up from my plate, I saw his dark eyes glaring down the length of the table to the place where I sat. Although the food was quite excellent, I found my appetite wanting to desert me. Surely he was not going to pursue his suit, not after everything I had said both to him and to his father?
I couldn’t know, and that was most definitely not the time to ask. The only positive note was that no one else seemed to perceive his unwanted attention, and so I thought I could still salvage the evening, if only I was able to slip away after dinner before he had a chance to speak to me.
My luck did not seem to hold, however. The servants came to clear away the plates, and everyone stood. This was the time when my uncle would go to his study, while we girls would head to Aunt Lyselle’s sitting room for more conversation before it was time to retire upstairs for the night. But as I stood and began to inch my way toward the door, Lord Mayson said,
“Perhaps a turn outside, Iselda? For it is still quite warm.”
Trapped, I could but nod. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I noted how my aunt’s head tilted to one side, as if she was absorbing this new wrinkle and attempting to determine how it might alter what I had said to her previously on the subject of Mayson Bellender. Affecting an air of unconcern, I waited for him to come up to me. Then he offered his arm, and I had no choice but to take it so he might lead me out of the dining chamber and into the corridor, where a door opened up onto the gardens.
Despite my unease, I could not help noticing what a beautiful evening it was, the air still thick with the scent of roses, the first stars beginning to appear in the soft, lavender-tinted skies. A perfect evening for romance, some might think. Was that Mayson’s intention — to bring me to a place where the conditions were perfect for convincing me to be his wife?
I swallowed, but said nothing as he closed the garden door and began to lead me down one of the graveled paths. When we were far enough away from any open windows that even the most avid ear could not have overheard our conversation, he stopped, dark eyes intent on my face.
“I think you have been avoiding me, Iselda.”
Denials immediately bubbled to my lips. “No, my lord, of course not. It was only that it was quite warm today, and I did not much feel inclined toward activity. Up in my room, the breeze is very fine, and it is far more comfortable than in other parts of the castle.”
That actually sounded quite plausible. I waited as he seemed to consider my words, and hoped he would believe them. Then he said, “I thought we were friends, Iselda.”
My heart sank. Truly, I did not know what to say to him. Friends, yes, but he wished for more than that, or at least wished for me to be a
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