‘Of course you’re ready. I’ve never heard you in better voice. Count Henry’s steward was thrilled to learn Blanchefleur is in town. The Champagne court will love you.’
‘It’s been a while since I performed—I was afraid that I might already have been forgotten.’
‘Forgotten? Blanchefleur le Fay? That’s hardly likely. Elise, it’s the booking of a lifetime. I can’t think of a better setting for Blanchefleur to step back on stage.’
Elise glanced at Pearl. Asleep. Carefully, she folded the cloth she’d been using as a fan and smiled to hide her disquiet. ‘You did well, André. Thank you.’
‘You might look a little happier,’ André said, watching her. ‘You’re nervous about singing in Champagne.’
‘Nonsense!’ Elise said, although there was a grain of truth in André’s remark. ‘But I mustn’t disappoint them.’
‘You’re afraid you’ll see him.’
Her chin lifted. ‘Him?’
‘Pearl’s father, of course. Elise, you don’t need to worry, Lord Gawain’s not in Troyes. He left to claim his inheritance.’
‘You’ve been listening to the gossip.’
‘Haven’t you?’
Elise grimaced, but it would be futile to deny it. Maybe she shouldn’t have listened, but where Gawain Steward was concerned that seemed impossible. His image never left her; even now it was bright and clear, a powerful knight with a shock of fair hair and a pair of smouldering dark eyes. ‘It’s odd to think of him as the Count of Meaux,’ she murmured. ‘He had no expectations of inheriting.’
‘Oh?’
‘I gather there was bad blood between him and his uncle. I know no more than that.’
André shrugged. ‘Well, he’s count now, so they must have resolved their differences.’
‘It would seem so.’
Elise was pleased for Gawain’s good fortune. In truth, she was pleased for herself. Gawain’s inheritance was her good fortune too. Blanchefleur le Fay had wanted to sing at the famous court in Champagne for years. Even the difficulties of her last visit here hadn’t killed that ambition.
After Pearl’s birth, when Elise had realised that Blanchefleur must make a truly spectacular return or risk fading into obscurity, she’d been inspired with the thought that she might stage her comeback at the palace in Troyes. It would be something of a coup to sing before Countess Marie herself. The daughter of the King of France, no less!
There had been a few ghosts to fight before Elise had been able to return to Champagne. She would never forget that her sister, Morwenna, had died near Troyes. However, nothing Elise could do would bring Morwenna back. In any case, if Morwenna had been alive she would be the first to agree that the Troyes court was the ideal place for Blanchefleur le Fay’s triumphant return.
And then there was Gawain, and the fear that she might run into him. What would she say to him? He is the father of my child and he doesn’t know...
But then Elise had heard that Gawain had become Count of Meaux and that obstacle at least had been removed. Gawain was miles away, claiming his inheritance in the Ile-de-France. The coast was clear.
‘What’s he like?’ André asked.
‘Hmm?’
‘Lord Gawain.’
Lord Gawain. ‘He was a plain knight when I knew him. Striking. A warrior. But he was also kind. Protective.’
Last year, Elise had been both surprised and flattered to have been the object of Gawain’s interest. It was even more astonishing when one stopped to consider that not once had she used Blanchefleur le Fay’s wiles on him. No, she’d simply been the shy and retiring maidservant, Elise.
‘Yet you fear him. You were anxious not to meet him.’
Elise glanced at Pearl, biting her lip. ‘I’m not afraid of Lord Gawain. I just wanted to avoid any...complications.’
‘Complications?’
‘André, Pearl’s father is a count. I have no idea how he might react when he learns he has a daughter.’
‘You’d prefer that he didn’t find out.’
‘Frankly, yes. The fact that Gawain is a count will not change his character. He is a dutiful man, a man of honour. I befriended him as a means of entering Ravenshold.’
André frowned. ‘What about Lady Isobel? I thought you’d become her maid to get into Ravenshold.’
‘So I did, but my friendship with Lady Isobel was untried. There was a strong possibility it might come to nothing.’
‘So you kept Lord Gawain in reserve.’ Eyes shocked, André looked at Pearl. ‘I thought—knowing you—he’d be more than that.’
‘I like the man, of course,’ Elise said hastily. In truth, she had more than liked him. She might have befriended Gawain out of desperation, but she hadn’t had to feign the attraction. Passion had flared up between them without any effort on her part. Sparks had been flying from the first. ‘I’m not certain he will forgive me. You see, I did deceive him.’
Elise bit her lip. Deceiving Gawain had been both the hardest and the easiest thing she had ever done. She had flirted with a man—she’d never felt comfortable flirting, but it had been astonishingly easy with Gawain. It had been fun, of all things. Initially, she’d done it hoping to discover how her sister had died. Before she had come to know Gawain, she had told herself that uncovering the truth about Morwenna’s death was all that mattered. But she had quickly realised that she’d been deceiving herself as much as Gawain. The liking between them had been strong. Too strong. They had ended up as passionate lovers even though she’d come to mistrust everything she felt for him. Was it really possible to feel so much for a man, and so quickly?
‘It’s a relief to know I won’t see him,’ she said. ‘Particularly since he is the grand Count of Meaux. André, he lives in a different world.’
‘The world of the court.’
‘Just so. We might entertain there, but it is not our world. But for you to have secured a booking so soon! It’s wonderful.’ She grimaced. ‘Except for one thing.’
‘Oh?’
‘Blanchefleur’s gowns.’ Elise gestured at her stomach and tried to push Pearl’s father to the back of her mind. ‘Last time I tried them, they were still a little tight.’
‘Rot! You’re as slim as you were before Pearl came along.’
‘You, sir, are a flatterer. Those gowns aren’t decent and Blanchefleur wouldn’t dream of appearing in a loosely laced gown. Remember, the world at large likes to think of her as innocent. They believe she’s been on retreat in a convent. The gowns—’
‘Try them on again, Elise, I am sure they’ll fit. What about buying new ribbons?’
Butterflies were dancing in Elise’s stomach. Nervous, excited butterflies. She drew in a breath. She had dreamed about performing at the Champagne court for years, and she’d be mad to let a few nerves spoil her chance of singing at the palace. Reaching for André’s hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Very well,’ she said, brightly. ‘New ribbons it shall be. Will you keep an eye on Pearl for me while I go to the market?’
André looked regretfully at her. ‘I’m sorry, Elise, you’ll have to ask Vivienne. I’m meeting friends at the ale tent. We’ll be going back into town.’
‘Don’t worry, that’s fine,’ Elise said.
Vivienne was Pearl’s wet-nurse. Deciding to ask Vivienne if she would