Blanche, as had been her habit the past two days, also appeared in one of her best gowns, and looked utterly beautiful, even to Kassia’s jaundiced eye. No wonder Guy loved her.
Blanche eyed Kassia closely, an arched dark brow winging upward. She asked in a honey-sweet voice, “You have nearly the look of a gentlewoman this evening, Kassia. May I ask why?”
“To honor your betrothal, of course,” Kassia replied.
Blanche blinked rapidly and drew in her breath. “You know? Graelam has spoken to you?”
“Aye, he did this morning. I suppose that I must congratulate you.”
Blanche felt that the world had taken a faulty turn. “Are you not upset? You did understand what Graelam said?”
“Aye, I understood, and I am only upset because it seems . . . an unlikely match, at least to me. I had no idea you cared for each other.”
Blanche was momentarily speechless, wondering if the little snit was blind. She was not loath to gloat, just a bit. “And I had thought that y
ou cared for him. It was all an act? Come, I do not believe you!”
“I do care for him.” Kassia shrugged. “However, since I have no say in the matter, it is foolish to rant and rave. It is his decision, after all.” She raised her chin. “I hope, Blanche, that you will be a good wife to him.”
“You may be certain that I shall. He has been quite pleased to share my bed the past two nights.”
“Aye, I know. Graelam also told me of that.”
Blanche could only shake her head. She wanted to gloat a bit more, but in the face of Kassia’s calm acceptance, she was left without a word to say. “You are mad,” she managed, and left her.
Mad, am I? Kassia frowned in some confusion at Blanche’s back, then turned to direct the servants. The hall filled quickly, the men seating themselves along the long trestle tables. Blanche hung back a moment, until Guy smiled at her and motioned her to her place beside him.
“I don’t know,” she began, trying to gain Graelam’s attention. But he was speaking to Kassia and did not heed her.
“Sit down, Blanche. You will see, ’tis better so.”
She could scarce eat a bite, her gaze continually going to the high table, questions tumbling through her mind. When will he tell everyone? Why is he waiting? What is he saying to Kassia?
“Patience, Blanche,” Guy said softly, slanting her an amused look.
At least, she thought, turning to the young knight, she could show him her triumph. If Graelam had told Kassia, ’twas likely Guy also knew. “Everything has worked out just as I said it would,” she said, her voice sounding shrill and defensive to her own ears.
“I think so,” Guy said blandly.
“There is nothing you can do about it!” she hissed at him. “In a few minutes Graelam will make the announcement.” Why did he seem so indifferent to what had happened, so uncaring?
“He told me he would,” he said.
She cursed him softly under her breath, her unspoken disappointment making her say angrily, “It is your hope to take Kassia yourself? Will you volunteer to see her back to her father in Brittany?”
“No,” he said evenly.
Blanche turned at the sound of Graelam’s bellow for silence. At last, she thought, straightening. At last!
Graelam rose from his chair. “Attend me,” he called out. He paused a moment until the hall was quiet. “I have happy news to give you. Blanche, will you please come here? And Guy, of course.”
Why Guy? she wondered. She walked gracefully to the raised dais, Guy beside her.
“Everyone wish the couple well,” Graelam said, grinning at Guy. “Blanche and Guy will be wed the day after tomorrow, in the presence of the Duke of Cornwall.”
“No!” The small word readied to erupt from her mouth, but Guy grabbed her and kissed her heartily, smothering her cry.
There was a chorus of shouts and congratulations and calls for more ale. “It is done, Blanche,” Guy said into her mouth.