Egelric has his fun

“Oh!” Hetty cried. “There you are hiding, naughty boy. Wyn, I want to introduce you to my friend Mouse, Lady Wynflaed’s sister, whom I mentioned to you earlier. Mouse, this is Ethelwyn Ealstan, who is the nephew of Lord Dyrnemoras, and Egelric’s steward, and my own dear friend.”

Ethelwyn lifted a hand and held it hanging limp and awkward between them. Mouse was unnerved by the gesture.

“But she believes you have met already?” Hetty prompted.

Mouse realized suddenly he had meant to take her hand, but had noticed too late that it was hidden in her skirt. She jerked her hand up and he caught it in his, which was as long and sleek and handsome as the rest of him.

But she had expected some furious, bone-​crushing grip that would tell her everything he dared not say before the Duchess. She was surprised to find his hand cold and damp, and aquiver with the feeble tremor of an invalid. And yet the hands had been strong that had held her waist to prevent her from slipping entirely into the moat.

“I think we once passed on the stairs,” Mouse faltered, praying that he would acquiesce and allow this nightmarish meeting to end just as quickly as possible.

“And also once on the bridge,” he said in a low voice, and he bent his head to kiss her hand, which prevented her from seeing what could be read in his eyes. It was only the barest brush of his lips over her knuckles, and that told her what the grip of his hand did not.

“Oh, is that so?” Hetty smiled. “That is how you know him, Mouse. I am certain he was only too shy to ask your name. But you must have asked someone about him, mustn’t you?” she giggled.

“The Old Man told me,” Mouse said, which was at least somewhat true.

“Oh, no!” Hetty laughed. “The Old Man is too little to realize he ought to have introduced you. But late is better than never.”

Mouse bowed her head closer to Ethelwyn and whispered, “I don’t think she knows.”

“You reassure me,” he whispered in reply. “I could not believe Her Grace so duplicitous.”

Mouse looked warily up at him, wondering whether this were not a hidden criticism of her, but she was distracted when he let go of her hand. It was only then that she realized he had been holding it all that time.

“I am pleased to finally be able—” he began aloud, stiffly, but he was silenced by a hand coming down on his shoulder like the stroke of doom.

“There you are, Wyn!” Egelric said with his most wolfish grin.

Mouse saw at once that Egelric knew who had fallen into the moat two days before. She also saw how Ethelwyn cringed beneath that hand like a dog more accustomed to blows than to caresses.

“Egelric! Are they preparing to dance?” Hetty asked, smiling, for the musicians in the gallery above the hall had ceased their playing as if waiting for the guests to assemble.

“They are, they are,” Egelric said. “That means you, too, Wyn. There’s six pair of us now, and if I have to dance, so must you. I had better hurry if I want to catch my wife. But it’s a lucky thing for you, Wyn: you’ve already found a partner!”

“Oh, bid them wait,” Hetty pleaded as she began to waddle around the pillar into the hall. “I shall sit and watch.”

“But I scarcely know how to dance,” Mouse protested weakly, though this was scarcely true at all.

“Never mind that,” Egelric said. “My friend Wyn is such an excellent dancer that he can make any partner look like a born dancer. And besides, young lady, I heard you were particularly looking forward to dancing with this man… or around this man… or something of the sort. Eh, Mouse?”

Mouse nearly groaned aloud.

“Unless you two young people would rather stay here and have a private chat?” Egelric chuckled wickedly. “Or there’s a bit of mistletoe hanging just around the corner? Take your pick!”

“Shall we dance?” Ethelwyn asked her. His eyes were stony and his voice flat, as if he were inviting her to his funeral indeed.