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Rosamunda’s face will be pressed against the glass of their window.”
    Vincent tightened his grip on the reins. “She longs to be free, to explore the outside world. She’ll miss us.”
    They exchanged a glance, then quickly averted their eyes. Lucien’s gut roiled. The injustice was more and more intolerable. He recognized the torment in his brother’s eyes. “This situation must end,” he exclaimed.
    Vincent pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “You are right, brother, but I have no solution to offer.”
    Exasperated, Lucien urged his horse to a gallop. Vincent followed. They rode hard for half a mile along the southern coast of England. The brisk breeze and the smell of the sea filled Lucien’s nostrils. He loved the white cliffs, the endless beaches and inspiring coastal vistas of his native Sussex. He half closed his eyes, wishing he might somehow stumble on a way to free his sisters without disobeying and disgracing his parents.
    As he turned inland to East Preston, he crested a rise, peering over his shoulder through the swirling sand stirred up by his horse’s hooves to see if his brother still rode close behind.
    He almost careened into two riders coming the other way. The four steeds snorted and bucked as their riders reined them in.
    “What the hell!” Vincent exclaimed, struggling to control his frenzied horse.
    “ Merde !” one of the unknown riders shouted.
    The cloud of dust from the sandy terrain gradually settled, revealing four indignant horsemen glaring at each other, blinking away the grit, hands on the hilts of their swords.
    Lucien’s mouth fell open in astonishment; one of the other riders was a dwarf. He blurted out words without thinking. “Who the hell are you?”
    The dwarf rose in the stirrups, drawing his sword. “I am Denis de Sancerre, who the fyke are you?”
    A loud cough caught Lucien’s attention. He immediately recognized Adam de Montbryce. The Norman looked thinner than the last time he had seen him, but there was no mistaking the black hair and noble bearing.
    “ Milord de Montbryce,” he exclaimed. “We were on our way to see you.”
    Adam frowned as he peered through the settling dust. “Lucien! We are coming to visit you! Put up your sword, Denis.”
    The dwarf scowled, but did as Montbryce bade him.
    Lucien’s eyes were fixed on the miniature knight.
    Adam nudged his horse alongside the dwarf’s, putting a hand on his shoulder. “May I properly introduce my brother, Denis de Sancerre. Denis, my friends and neighbours, Lucien and Vincent Lallement.”
    ~~~
    Denis had long ago become inured to the rude stares of others when they first set eyes on him. But the way the Lallement brothers gaped was unnerving. They seemed struck dumb.
    “Never seen a dwarf before?” he goaded.
    They exchanged a quick glance, and swallowed hard. “A thousand apologies, milord Denis,” Lucien stammered, his face reddening. “It’s just that—er—” He looked again to his brother, as if seeking help.
    Denis curled his lip in disgust. “Didn’t you say these were gentlemen?” he asked Adam, though it was unlikely his brother would hear his aside.
    Adam nudged his horse forward. “It is indeed a coincidence we chose the same day to call one on the other. I estimate we are closer to Kingston Gorse. We could return there with you.”
    To Denis’ further disgust, the Lallements hesitated. Were they afraid he might taint their home? “Your friends seem hesitant,” he declared loudly. “Perhaps we should invite them to East Preston instead.”
    “Again, my apologies, mes seigneurs ,” Vincent offered, dismounting and bowing to both Normans. “We would be honoured to escort you to Kingston Gorse. We are distracted because our mother is—not well. But that is no reason not to extend our hospitality to you.”
    Adam frowned. Denis knew he had not heard Vincent Lallement’s explanation. Not wanting to make his brother’s impediment obvious, he looked him full in the