"Cecilia Dart-Thornton - The Bitterbynde 02 - The Lady of the Sorrows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dart-Thornton Cecilia)

horses and carriage shall be accommodated in my own stables, your coachman in the grooms' and
equerries' quarters behind the Royal Coach-Mews, and your maidservant in a chamber off the suite to be
prepared for you."
 "I have no handmaiden. The coachman and equipage are hired."
"What? No maid?"
The Dainnan scowled. He left his seat and again paced restlessly before the fireplace.
"My lady Rohain, you are a most singular noblewoman. You come here, unannounced; nobody has
ever heard of you. You come masked and maidless, bearing a most extraordinary tale. You speak with
disarming plainness, unlike a courtier or any member of the peerage. Are you in fact a spy?" On the last
word, he spun on his heel and glared at her accusingly.
Outraged, Rohain jumped up. Her overblown skirts knocked the table. A goblet fell to the carpet,
scattering its contents like spilled blood. Angry words sprang to her lips in the heat of the moment.
"Now you accuse me of treason! Indeed, sir, it seems you have been in the King-Emperor's service
for too longтАФyou have become suspicious of all strangers who set foot in the palace. I have come here
in good faith, to carry out my duty, only to be called an infiltrator. My mask disturbs you? Well then!"
She tore off the domino and threw it on the fire. Was it a sigh of the wind she heard, or the sudden intake
of her host's breath? The hounds lifted their heads, snarling.
"If I speak too plainly for your Court manners," she cried, "teach me otherwise! And as for your
treasure, I will prove that it exists. What more would you have me do?"
Her knees trembled. Abruptly, she sat down. The blood drained from her face. How had she
possessed the temerity to dare such an outburst? What would happen nowтАФwould she be hanged for
insolence? She fixed her eyes on the fire. The fragile mask had already been consumed. She was
exposed, vulnerable.
Out across the city, a bell tolled. Unquiet fingers of air slid under the door and plucked at the
curtains.
"Your pardon, lady," said Roxburgh at length. "I stand chastised." He bowed. His visage softened.
"Pray do not think me unkind. It is my way, to test others at first meeting. Surely I have this night learned
not to taunt the ladies of the Sorrows, should I ever meet another! Prithee, rest by the fire awhile." He
paused for another moment, as though savoring some anomaly or bizarreness, then summoned his pages.
"Lads! See to Her Ladyship's belongings and pay off the driver. Have lodgings made ready. Find a lady's
maid."
Two or three young boys hastened to do his bidding. This Dainnan lord speaks forthrightly to
say the least, thought Rohain-Imrhien. He is a man to place faith in.
"You are His Majesty's guest now," Roxburgh informed her. And prisoner? What if my ruse were
to be discovered?
"Gramercie. I am weary."
"WilfredтАФplay."
The multi-skilled squire took up a lyre, checked the tuning, and began expertly to coax a melody
from the strings.
The wine, the warmth, and the music were sweet. Rohain may have dozed; it seemed no time had
passed before a knock was heard at the door. There entered a damsel of her own age, perhaps
seventeen or eighteen years, her hair corn-yellow, half-encased in a crespine of gold wire. She curtsied,
peeping at Rohain out of the corners of her eyes, blinking.
"Mistress Viviana Wellesley of Wytham at your service, Your Grace."
 "You are to be servant to the Lady Rohain Tarrenys," said Roxburgh.
"Even so, Your Grace."
"Lady Rohain," he said, "I beg you to dine in the Royal Dining Hall tonight."
"Sir, I am honored."
Roxburgh again addressed the lady's maid. "Miss, is the suite of chambers ready?"
"Yes, Your Grace."