Ethelwyn is reassured
“Young man,” Sir Egelric scolded his steward, “what are you doing over here not dancing?”
“I don’t see you dancing either,” Ethelwyn replied.
“That is irrelevant, unless you are over here hoping I shall ask you to dance with me.”
“What if I were?”
“Then it’s time for me to find a new steward.”
Ethelwyn laughed. “Anyway, I just danced with Lady Sophie.”
“You were doing more than dancing with Lady Sophie from what I saw.”
“That was the damned mistletoe. I think she and Lady Lili set me up. Has Sophie got you yet?”
“Not me! I shall make her work for it. Look, there’s Ana right behind me. Why don’t you go dance with her?”
“Is my lady making you ask me that?”
“She makes me work for it, too,” Egelric confided.
Ethelwyn obligingly looked.
“It appears Eadwyn’s working his way in,” he said, nodding at Ana’s back.
“Damn! Forget her, then. Why don’t you dance with Sophie again?”
Ethelwyn laughed, beginning to grow suspicious. “Why are you so interested in seeing me dance? You’re not even the hostess.”
“Because, young Ethelwyn, if you had counted, you would have noticed that we have one more man than women here, if one remembers that Hetty can’t dance. One of us must dance, and I prefer it be you.”
“Indeed, I had counted, and I had considered that since I was the lowest-ranking personage here, I ought to efface myself in favor of you and the others.”
“If that’s the only problem, then let me reassure you: young Sigefrith should be arriving any minute now, and in addition to his lady, he is bringing her sister. That should even things up.”
“As long as he isn’t bringing his maid!”
“No, no maids. Ever met her sister?”
“I have only met her ladyship on a few occasions. I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure of meeting her sister. Do they look anything alike?”
“Not much. Wynflaed looks like her mother, and her sister like her father—minus the beard. But she’s cute. Definitely cute.”
Ethelwyn sniffed and shrugged dismissively. “I simply hope he doesn’t bring any maids along.”
“No maids!” Egelric laughed.
“But Lady Wynflaed will surely bring her own maid.”
“Lady Wynflaed’s own maid is a very staid and sober woman of forty-odd, and I would wager anything she does not own a pair of red boots.”
“That is just as well. I should not like to run across Red Boots in the corridor tonight. She might pitch me down the stairs.”
Egelric laughed and lightly punched his steward on the shoulder. “I have never heard you expend so much breath on a single female, Wyn. If I didn’t know you better, I would say you’re in love.”
“I!” Ethelwyn gasped. “I should say I’m in terror!”
“Wyn’s in love?” Sophie cried from behind Egelric. “With whom?”
“Terror, I said!” Ethelwyn protested.
“If he acts like he’s in love and claims that’s he’s in terror, Sophie,” Egelric said, “he can only be thinking of you!”
