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nervous.
    â€˜You look sad, mistress.’
    It interested me that she had noticed. ‘Not inordinately,’ I replied. I did not want to converse about my worries with this worldly woman.
    â€˜In fact, you have looked in poor humour since we left London,’ she remarked, in no manner put off. ‘Why is that?’
    And so, since I must: ‘I have just left my daughter—in London. It was hard to say farewell. She’s seven years old.’
    It had been hard indeed, but I had kept a smile in place, pinning memories of her farewell kisses in my mind.
    â€˜It’s young to leave a child. A girl child…’
    I detected a hint of criticism, and was quick to respond. ‘She’s in the Lancaster household. A damsel to thetwo daughters. I was there too until the death of Duchess Blanche.’
    Mistress Saxby nodded comfortably. ‘Then she’ll not lack for aught. You should give thanks, mistress.’
    She made me feel ungrateful of the blessings that had fallen on me.
    â€˜Are you a widow?’ she asked, gesturing to my black skirts.
    â€˜Yes. Almost three months ago. He was fighting in Aquitaine for the Duke.’
    â€˜Ah. A soldier.’
    â€˜I don’t know whether he was killed in battle or brought low by disease.’ My companion did not need to know that he was a knight and a landowner.
    â€˜Disease is a terrible thing,’ she mused solemnly. ‘Last year my own husband took sick and died within the week. Look at the Prince, God save him. He’s not long for this world, you mark my words. We’ll say a rosary for him at Lincoln.’ Her squirrel-gaze held mine. ‘You’re young to be a widow, mistress. How old did you say you were?’
    I hadn’t, but I recognised a practised talent for acquiring information. ‘Twenty-two years,’ I said, smiling at the success of the technique.
    â€˜You’ll wed again. Or perhaps you have a sweetheart already? Unless it was a love match between the pair of you and you’re still in mourning.’ I flushed at the implication that my emotions were so flighty. Mistress Saxby chuckled. ‘I see you have!’
    â€˜No. I have no time for such things. Nor will I.’ My reply was as sharp as her stare. ‘I have two children at home who need my care. And my husband’s estates…’
    Mistress Saxby tossed her head, the veil attached to herhat dislodged from its neat folds. ‘Your children will grow and move away. Your land will bring cold comfort. You need a man in your bed.’
    I took a breath. ‘That’s the last thing I need,’ I remarked.
    It was as if I had not spoken. ‘Your youth will be gone and forgotten before you know it. Without your pretty face, how will you attract a husband? You’ll be a lonely old woman.’
    â€˜Do you speak from experience?’ I retorted, but she took no ill-humour from my sharpness.
    â€˜Not so. I have had three husbands. And more than one…
admirer
, shall we say. I am a widow at present, but I have my eye on a likely man.’ Mistress Saxby pursed her lips at the prospect of the man in question. ‘Are you courted?’
    Was I?
    I would like to put the light back into your eyes…
    â€˜Yes,’ I said, lured into indiscretion before I could stop myself.
    â€˜Is he a worthy man?’
    â€˜Too good for me.’
    â€˜Nonsense. No man is too good for a good woman.’ She slid a glance over me, her smile widening. ‘Do I suppose it is not marriage he offers?’
    And I found myself replying to her catechism. ‘No.’
    â€˜Is he wed?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Do they live together?’
    â€˜They spent Christmas together in Dorset at Kingston Lacy.’ That much I knew. ‘She travels to London to join him. She carries their first child.’
    Mistress Saxby’s ample lips became a thin line as she contemplated. ‘It doesn’t sound too