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have the honor of being the eldest son of Sir Thomas Cavendish, Earl of Thornbury. I am Sir Brandon Cavendish. I bring you the greetings and good wishes of my family and of our great king, Henry, who has made my present happiness possible.” Sir Brandon bowed low for a fourth time.
    Kat winced inwardly as she watched Cavendish dive toward the floor again. Hang it all, my betrothed is full of foppery!
    “Oh!” Miranda squeaked. She turned a little pale.
    “Do him courtesies,” Kat prompted in Miranda’s ear. “And for the love of all that is holy, don’t faint.”
    “’Tis I who am honored, Sir Brandon.” Miranda sank into a full curtsy. She remained frozen in that position.
    Sir Brandon dropped to one knee before her and took her hand in his. “The honor of your fair hand is a gift I shall cherish all my days. Believe me, sweetest lady, when I tell you that I shall ever remember this moment in my heart and in my dreams.” He kissed each of Miranda’s fingers in turn.
    Kat happened to glance at Sir John and caught him rolling his eyes toward the vaulted ceiling. Aye, Sir Brandon’s greeting was a bit thick—like butter oozing on a slice of hot bread—but his words certainly had quite an effect upon Miranda. Kat wondered if the two of them were going to remain kneeling in the middle of the floor for the rest of the day. Kat shot another glance at Sir John.
    He acknowledged her look with a slight lowering of his eyelids. Then he cleared his throat again. Kat wondered if he was coming down with a cough. Perhaps Sondra could prepare an elixir for his sore throat.
    “Permit me to introduce myself, my Lady Katherine.” Sir John arched one golden brow at the couple before him. “I am Sir John Stafford, gentleman groom of the king’s bedchamber.”
    “Aye,” Miranda replied, not glancing at the speaker. She seemed to have lost herself in the depths of Sir Brandon’s blue eyes.
    Get up, coz, and behave yourself. That is supposed to be my husband. Kat looked across the couple to Sir John. He shrugged his shoulders in reply. Though his motion seemed outwardly simple, he radiated a vitality that drew her like a dancing moth to a candle flames. Her heart bounced. That one was a rogue, she decided. Such an attraction would be perilous. Why couldn’t her betrothed have been Sir John? At least he didn’t talk in sugared subtleties.
    . “The lady may find the noor—polished though ’tis to an enviable shine—to be a bit chill,” Sir John suggested. His golden eyebrows arched with meaning.
    Kat caught herself admiring Sir John’s clean, straight jawline. She swallowed with difficulty.
    “Your pardon, my lady.” Sir Brandon rose in one fluid motion, bringing Miranda up with him. “I was enraptured.”
    “Has my...my cousin offered you some refreshment after your journey?” Miranda gripped Sir Brandon’s hand.
    “Nay.” Sir John gazed boldly at Kat, which made her feel hot and cold at the same time. “But I am willing to take whatever refreshment she may offer.”
    The very air crackled around Kat like lightning come to earth. The implication of his softly spoken words sent tingling waves of forbidden excitement crashing through her. Sir John’s eyes appeared to turn bluer as his gaze caressed her. Though the day was warm for May, a cluster of goose bumps sprouted along her arms. Angels in heaven! What was this churl insinuating? What an utterly improper, utterly rude, utterly...delicious idea! Impossible! I am fast losing my wits!
    “I need no other refreshment, now that I am bathed in my lady’s eyes,” Sir Brandon murmured, drawing closer to Miranda, who, for her part, stood rooted to the floor tiles.
    Kat tittered—something she had not done for almost two decades—and twisted a knot within the folds of her gown. “We do not often hear such goodly speech, as we live so far from the court.”
    “I fear my friend may have overstepped his bounds at this first meeting, Mistress Miranda.” Sir John