LITMIR.BIZ

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ripple of silvery laughter interrupted Sir Edward’s dark musings. At the far end of the hall, Alicia slid to the floor to intercept an apricot-colored mastiff puppy. It scampered up to her on oversize paws; a long pink tongue hung from its wide, black muzzle. The little fellow greeted the girl with wet affection. The sound of spurs scraping the flagstones, and several male voices speaking at once heralded the arrival of the earl’s sons.

      One of the blond giants spied Alicia. “Good sooth, what have we here?” he greeted her. “‘Tis an angel come down to earth.”

      Sir Giles shook his head. “My second son, William. He is never at loss for words.”

      “Good day, young mistress,” added the older son, giving Alicia a small bow.

      Holding the puppy in her arms, Alicia rose from the floor in a fluid motion. “God give you a good day, my lords,” she replied in her clear, sweet voice.

      Despite the wiggling animal, she executed a lovely curtsy. Sir Edward smiled at his ward. Only seven years old, yet she carried herself like a princess. If the fickle fates had been kinder, she would have been a true one, he thought. God forgive Edward Plantagenet’s philandering ways.

      William shouted across the hall. “How now, father? Is this one my new bride? By the stars, mistress, you are a lofty creature! I like my women small. They are easier to subdue.”

      John clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You are frightening the child,” he admonished mildly. To Alicia, he added, “Welcome to Wolf Hall.”

      “Ah,” she replied with a pert smile. “Is this one of the dreadful wolves?” She held up the puppy.

      “He is mine.” Stepping out of the shadows, the third son took the dog from her hands.

      God’s teeth! The boy was a handsome brute, Sir Edward thought. Blonder than either of his brothers, with well-defined features yet unblessed by a whisker, Thomas Cavendish reminded Brampton of an avenging angel chiseled in marble. At fourteen, the third son stood as tall as the other two. His wide shoulders and loose-hung arms and legs gave promise of the powerful man he would become when fully grown. Sir Edward searched the boy’s face for some sign of mental incapacity. Surprised, he saw none. Instead of retreating with his pup, Thomas stood before Alicia as if rooted to the spot.

      “You see what I mean?” the earl muttered to his guest. “Says nothing.” He motioned for his sons to join him. The older two obeyed. Thomas either did not see his father beckon to him, or he chose to ignore it. Instead, he allowed Alicia to pet the dog.

      “John, William, this is…ah…”

      “Master Roger Broom, goldsmith, my lords.” Sir Edward slipped into his daily guise. He bowed with the deference of a merchant before nobility. “I am honored.”

      “Just so,” the earl rumbled under his breath. “And the child is Alicia Broom.”

      “My daughter,” Sir Edward added smoothly.

      “A pretty wench,” William remarked, appraising her over his shoulder.

      Sir Edward did not like the roving gleam in William’s eye. Thank all the saints Alicia was too young yet for bedding, or that young man might attempt to do her mischief. Silently he applauded Sir Giles’s prudence to contract his second son as quickly as possible. He was glad that the earl had not offered William for Alicia. The rogue would make life a merry hell for any poor woman.

      John elbowed his brother in the stomach. “Forgive William’s manners, master goldsmith. Methinks he forgot to put them on with his hat this morning.”

      The earl growled an oath under his breath.

      Sir Edward flourished another bow. “Youth must be served, my lord.”

      “Avaunt, you two! Begone!” Sir Giles snapped his fingers several times. “We desire some conference with Thomas—in private.”

      William brayed a laugh. “What ho! You plan to apprentice old Tom to a goldsmith? What a jest!”

      “Out!” roared Sir Giles. “Thomas! A word with you—and put that damnable dog down!”

      “Or better yet, marry him to the goldsmith’s daughter!” William jibed as John hauled him up the broad stairs at the near end of the hall. “When you need instruction in the arts of swiving, Tom, call me and—”

      John’s audible blow between William’s shoulder blades put a quick end to the young man’s lewd suggestion. Flinging oaths at each other, the two brothers disappeared into the gallery above.

      Sir Giles poured himself a third tankard of ale. “The devil take all offspring. I fear that my family makes hawks look as tame as robins. Thomas! Come here!” To Brampton, he murmured, “Now you will see what I mean. A good boy—but he does not know the letter B from battledore.”

      Alicia stepped closer to the tall lad. “If it please you, my lord, I could hold your dog while you speak with your father.” She held out her hands. “Come, let us all go together.”

      Thomas handed the puppy back to Alicia. “His name is Georgie.”

      Georgie greeted her with another long slurp of his tongue. She giggled, then tucked the pup under one arm. She slipped her free hand into Thomas’s. Startled by the contact, the boy looked as if he might pull away. Alicia merely cast him a beatific smile. Without a word, they presented themselves to Sir Giles.

      They look well together, Brampton thought. A sunblessed giant and a golden princess. Then he noticed a fresh bruise on the boy’s left cheekbone. He must have tripped over his large feet.

      Sir Edward cleared his throat. “My daughter, Alicia Broom, my lords.”

      Once again, Alicia dropped a perfect curtsy while keeping a firm hold on the excited puppy. “I am most honored, my lord earl,” she said in bright, sunlit tones. Then she added in a whisper, “Prithee, my lord, will you be serving us supper?”

      Sir Edward coughed in warning. He should never have mentioned that possibility to the child. He prayed the earl would forgive her indiscretion. Being a simple merchant’s daughter, she had never met anyone from the upper levels of the nobility.

      Before Sir Giles could recover his surprise, Thomas turned to her. “Do you like apple tarts?”

      She closed her eyes in rapture. Her little pink tongue darted between her lips. “Aye, I do so adore them!”

      “And I, as well,” the young man confided. “Let us visit the kitchens now. I am famished.”

      Alicia giggled, and held up the puppy. “And so is Georgie, methinks.”

      Turning back to his father, Thomas inclined his head. “Father?” he asked.

      Sir Edward detected a flicker of fear in the boy’s remarkable blue eyes before he looked down to the stone floor. Brampton considered the bruise again, and wondered if Sir Giles beat his sons, Thomas in particular.

      The earl coughed, blew his nose, then waved away the children. “Take her to the kitchen. Give the lass all the tarts she can eat. Well, don’t just stand there like a hobbledehoy. Be off, Thomas!”

      For the first time since he had appeared, Thomas smiled. By all the saints! Sir Edward could scarcely believe the handsome change that came over the lad’s face. The boy threw a sidelong glance at Alicia, who grinned at him in return.

      “Let us away, before your papa changes his mind,” she whispered.

      Thomas nodded. With hasty bows, the young couple departed.

      “Do you like your tarts with cream?” he asked as they went out the far door.

      “With lots and lots,” Alicia replied.

      Thomas’s deeper voice echoed back into the hall. “Me, too.”

      The earl stared wide-eyed after them, then drained his ale. “God’s teeth! Did

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