Chapter Twenty
Dustin had been watching the dancing for the past two hours.
But something was amiss.
Perhaps it was simply her overactive imagination, but something didn’t seem quite right.
Curtis and Elle were dancing in front of the snapping hearth as the minstrels played, along with Myles, Douglas, Christin, Liora, Melusine, and Asa, but neither Myles nor Douglas could seem to find partners, which was why they’d ended up dancing with Christin and Liora.
The single women, who had come with their fathers or brothers, didn’t seem particularly interested, not even when handsome Andrew tried to persuade them.
One young woman, from the House of de Lave, did dance for a little while, but after two dances with Andrew and Douglas, her father demanded she sit down with her mother.
It was quite strange.
And Dustin was watching all of it, trying to figure out what was going on.
The music was good and the wine was flowing, but no one seemed to be having a good time.
Christopher, who had been in Curtis’ solar in the keep with Peter, Caius, Alexander, Bretton, Robert, Tristan, and Sean, eventually came out and rejoined the people in the hall.
Most of them headed for the dais, collecting cups and leftover food as they sat.
Christopher, cup in hand, sat next to his wife and smiled at her before taking a hefty swallow of the wine.
“This is good,” he said, smacking his lips. “After sending so much to Curt, I think our own stores are running low. I must send for more.”
Dustin didn’t respond to his comment as he drank more wine and muttered something to Alexander about taking a trip to Burgundy to find other, more delicious wine. She was fixed on the dancing.
“Chris,” she finally muttered.
“Aye, love?”
She pointed to the group dancing. “Does something seem odd to you?”
Alexander and Peter, the closest, heard her. “What seems odd, Mama?” Peter said. “Other than Douglas being angry that he has to dance with a sister, nothing looks odd to me.”
Even though Dustin wasn’t his mother by birth, she had raised him, so Peter always addressed her as his mother. As he and Alexander snorted about Douglas pitching fits because Andrew drew in the unmarried women before he did, Dustin pointed to the dancing group again.
“Do you think it strange that the only people dancing are de Lohr family members?” she said. “Look—it is only those from our family. With music like this, there should be dozens of dancers out there.”
Christopher simply shrugged. “Mayhap they do not feel like dancing tonight,” he said. “It is no great mystery.”
But Dustin wouldn’t let go. “Look at them,” she said, gesturing to the guests on the other side of the hall. “They are not even looking at the dancers. Everyone is crowded away from them. There is no cheering, no joy. No one is even here at the dais, speaking to us. We may as well be eating alone.”
Now, Christopher was starting to see what she meant. “It does seem odd,” he said. “Do we all smell horribly? Is a foul odor driving everyone away?”
Dustin was becoming increasingly annoyed with it.
“Sean,” she said, turning to the man across the table as he sat in conversation with Caius.
“Will you and Cai see what you can find out? You do not bear the de Lohr last name, so if this is some kind of strange vendetta against us, maybe they will tell you. Find out why no one is dancing and no one is speaking to us, but be discreet.”
Sean, perhaps one of the greatest spies England had ever seen, had heard most of the conversation. He looked to the dancers, musicians, and finally the hall full of people that seemed to be oddly removed from the party going on around them.
“What is wrong with them?” he said, frowning. “There should be twenty dancers out there, not eight. If my wife were here, she would dance until dawn.”
“That is exactly what I said,” Dustin said. “Will you see what you can discover?”
Sean stood up. “Come along, Cai,” he said, nudging Caius. “Let’s find out what is wrong with this crowd.”
Caius stood up, following Sean as they left the dais and headed toward the throng of guests.
As they moved with the stealth of panthers, blending in with the crowd, a young woman rose from her seat and headed for the dancers near the hearth.
It took both Christopher and Dustin a moment to realize it was Larue, and when they became aware that she was moving toward Curtis, they passed glances between them.
Larue, in close proximity to Curtis, was never a good thing, especially with Curtis’ rather volatile wife nearby.
But they didn’t comment on it. They didn’t have to.
They knew what the stakes were.
What they didn’t know was that, thanks to Larue, the evening was about to break loose.
*
It had been a lively tune, and Elle was very nearly worn out.
She’d been dancing for a couple of hours and was very much enjoying herself, but she was winded.
So winded. Curtis had spun her around too many times, and her tender tummy didn’t appreciate it.
As the music wound down, she came to a halt with her hand on her heaving chest.
“God’s Bones,” she said, breathing heavily. “Is this what happens at every great feast? People dance themselves into exhaustion?”
Curtis was sweating from exertion, but grinning. “Indeed,” he said. “You wanted to dance, so here we are.”
“I wanted to dance, not cavort in a frenzy and collapse in a heap.”
Curtis laughed, and was going in to embrace her when Myles grasped her by the hand and pulled her away.
“It is my turn to be your partner,” Myles said. “Let Curt dance with Christin. She is stepping on my feet too much.”
Christin, nearly bent over in exhaustion from the lively dancing, suddenly straightened up, her eyes widening dramatically at the insult. “Consider yourself fortunate that I am your partner,” she said imperiously. “I can just as easily force my husband to dance. He doesn’t complain.”
Myles shot her a long look. “He would rather die a thousand painful deaths than dance, and you know it,” he said. “Dance with Curt for a while. I want to dance with Lady Leominster.”
Even as Myles pulled her along, Elle was trying to beg off. “Please, I must rest,” she said. “Let me sit for a few minutes and then I will dance with you, I promise.”
“What?” Curtis gasped in mock outrage. “You are promising him a dance? Then it is over between us, Lady Leominster. I do not care if you are the most beautiful, brilliant, and witty woman in the world. I’m through with you, you ungrateful wench.”
He was a little drunk and far too dramatic. Elle bit her lip to keep from laughing. “As you wish,” she said. “I’m certain I can find others who would be interested, so I do not need you, either.”
“How dare you!” Curtis declared. “Show me these men and I will slay them where they stand.”
“Then it is true. She can find others.”
Suddenly, there was a woman in their midst whom Elle didn’t recognize.
She wasn’t unattractive, with jewels around her neck and on her ears, and her hair in a careful coif that was slightly disheveled.
She interjected herself into the conversation, interrupting, and she was looking at Curtis with a decidedly inebriated expression.
In fact, if Elle didn’t know better, the expression seemed to border on seductive.
But even if Elle didn’t recognize her, Curtis did.
All of the humor left his face.
“Lady Munstone,” he greeted her. “I apologize, I did not quite hear what you said.”
The woman shook her head sadly. “Poor Curtis,” she said. “I heard what happened. Everyone has heard. You have our sympathy.”
Curtis had no idea what she was talking about, and neither did anyone else. Irritated that Larue had interrupted his conversation with his wife, Curtis gestured to Elle.
“I do not believe you have met Lady Leominster,” he said. “This is my wife. Elle, this is Larue, Lady Munstone. Her husband is an ally.”
Larue turned to look at Elle, weaving unsteadily as she did so. She was appearing more drunk by the moment. She looked Elle over, from head to toe, and returned her focus to Curtis.
“Dance with me,” she said. “I have come all the way to Brython, and I want you to dance with me.”
Curtis wasn’t pleased that she had been rude to Elle. “Greet my wife, Lady Munstone,” he said, his voice low. “It would be the polite thing to do.”
Larue rubbed one eye, nearly throwing herself off balance as she did so, before looking to Elle.
“Lady Leominster,” she said in a catty display before returning her attention to Curtis.
“We’ve all heard how this marriage came about, and you have our sympathy.
Mayhap your wife should know that our loyalty is to you, Curt.
What your father did to you was not fair. ”
“What are you talking about?” Myles said, frowning. “Sit back down, Lady Munstone. You’re drunk.”
Curtis held up a hand to silence his brother, but Larue lashed out at him. “Why couldn’t it have been you?” she said, her voice lifting as she glared at Myles. “Why did it have to be Curtis? If your father was going to force one of you to marry a Welsh whore, why did it have to be Curtis?”
Liora and Elle gasped at the blatant insult as Christin, who had been listening to the entire exchanged, moved like lightning. Before Curtis could stop her, she was on Larue, her fingers biting into the woman’s arm.
“Get out of here, you drunken fool,” she said. “Get out of here before I cut your tongue out.”
Larue gasped in pain as Christin squeezed, and Myles and Curtis were forced to separate them. Curtis had hold of Larue, turning her in the direction of her husband’s table.
“Return to your husband, Larue,” he growled. “For the insult you have dealt to my wife, tell him to go back to your encampment. He is not welcome at Brython, and nor are you. Get out.”
But Larue wouldn’t be pushed around. She slapped at Curtis’ hands, stumbling away from him.