Read Online Emma Campion - A Triple Knot by Emma Campion - Free Book Online Page B

Henri and Marguerite, though not their father.” Once again, he had not given the king and queen the deference due them, seating himself on the same level as King Edward, his chair as grand and cushioned, his canopy as prominent, the arms of England and Brabant side by side. “I do not trust him.”
    “I don’t like the peacock, either. Oh! I heard—is it true?—that Salisbury caught Albret kissing you and pulled him away?
Tell
me!”
    “He just kissed me on the forehead. And Earl William did not pull him away, but stepped between us and asked to speak with him about some matter.”
    Bella sighed. “Still, he
kissed
you.” Her voice was fading.
    It wasn’t the kiss but the hand on her cheek that had flustered Joan. She’d felt so vindicated by calling him out for his arrogance. And then he’d touched her like that and she felt helpless again. He knew Lucienne’s scent. She wondered whether she trembled when he touched her, and whether she liked that—if what she was experiencing, these feelings that frightened her so, if this was how a woman felt with a man. If Thomas touched her so, would she like it? She thought she would. Very much.

8
    J oan woke to the sound of women whispering, only Bella still curled up beside her. Pulling back the curtains, she discovered Sandrine, Felice, Mary, Lady Lucienne, and two of the queen’s lady’s maids sorting through her clothes.
    “What are you doing?”
    Mary dropped the gown she was holding up for one of the ladies. “My lady, they said the queen—”
    “Her Grace says that, as none of these fit properly, we are to use the fabrics to create new gowns.” Lucienne held up the deep blue silk and the rose taffeta to suggest the blending of the two—the rose as the bodice and sleeves, the blue as the skirt. “We’re deciding what we can use, and then Lady Marguerite and Lord Henri are escorting us to the market to shop for decorations. We shall have such fun!”
    Felice came over to plump up the pillows behind Joan and Bella, who sat up rubbing her eyes.
    “You might have asked before you began,” Joan said.
    Bella elbowed her. “Why so glum? You were angry with Countess Margaret for refusing to make you new gowns. Now you’ll have them.”
    Maybe Bella was right. Joan loved how she felt in the gown made from Lucienne’s, and this one would not smell of rosesand spice. Why would she resist such a gift? “I want the bodice fitted all the way to my hips.”
    Lucienne beamed. “Of course!”
    The duke’s children arrived with such an escort of guards that their company crowded the townsfolk out of the market as it entered and spread out among the stalls. The hawkers grew quiet, though not the musicians and performers, who followed in their wake. Joan would ever think of the Antwerp market filled with music and song, alive with puppet shows, jugglers, dancing bears, and performing monkeys. The merchants spread their wares before them, silks, velvets, the finest wools, a rainbow of gorgeous fabrics, ribbons, leathers soft and supple—some in strips to use for lacing, jewels, buttons, buckles. Lucienne and Felice took charge, draping the soft fabrics around Joan’s shoulders, discussing colors, texture, carefully cool and straight-faced to give them the upper hand in bargaining with the merchants. Marguerite guided them to the stalls of the cloth merchants and jewelers her father favored, but that did not mean they would give the English visitors a fair price, nor did Lucienne and Felice expect it. That was part of the game for them, and they excelled at it: Lucienne charming the merchants, flattering them into competition; Felice standing firm, pointing out flaws, brighter colors in neighboring stalls, the telltale whiff of mold suggesting damp warehouses.
    Their hosts made purchases as well. Marguerite presented Joan and Bella with strings of tiny silk flowers like the ones that bordered her surcoat; Henri gave each a marvelous plum pastry, his favorite. Joan