Padding to the scarlet-covered great bed in Lord Gavarnie’s private chamber, she eyed her fresh clothing where Hesper had laid it out. Strange that she should feel no discomfort here, where a dead woman had lain—if she were to believe her vision. Then again, she would not be surprised were Satan himself to walk up and tap her on the shoulder. Indeed, after supping in the great hall, she would welcome a sight of the devil. Though the roast goose had been well prepared, it had been impossible to enjoy the fare where Golde had sat with the boys directly below the dais. Not with the rancorous stirrings that clamored in her belly. ’Twas bad enough that Nicolette thought Gavarnie had killed her mother. Worse was that the boys hated their sister, if in fact she was their sister. But all withered in comparison to the evil that emanated from De- lamaure’s two guests. “Lord and Lady de Warrenne,” Alory had informed her. There was an air about the Baron of Adurford and his wife that affected her like rancid, maggot-infested meat.
