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lifting them with every gust. Eloise wrapped herself in furs, glancing out at the occasional flash of green countryside. More accustomed now to the lurching progress of the wagon, she tried to sew her sampler at first. Needlework reminded her of long days of incarceration in her childhood, forced to sit and be docile with the other girls when what she wanted was to ride free across the fields. Yet she knew such domestic skills would be expected of her as Lady Wolf, so she persevered for a while, aware of Mary’s curious gaze on her face.
    Her good intentions did not last long, however. Watching the intricate movements of the needle made her feel sick. Soon she laid her sampler aside, staring restlessly at the men riding alongside the litter. How much less tedious it would be if she too could ride home, she considered. But such a long ride would be unthinkable for a gently reared lady of the court.
    ‘Have you ever travelled before, Mary?’
    Her maid shook her head, wide-eyed. ‘Never, Mistress. I was born in Greenwich and never left there before, nor ever wanted to. They do say it’s terrible cold up north.’
    ‘I’m afraid it can be in the winter,’ Eloise agreed.
    ‘And there are ruffians on the road, or so I heard. Robbers and murderers!’
    ‘Further north it can be dangerous to travel unaccompanied. We should be safe enough though, with all these stout-hearted soldiers about us. Robbers rarely attack wagons where there are so many armed men to overcome.’
    Mary seemed unconvinced. But she gladly accepted a drink of ale when Eloise suggested they open the basket of provisions her father had procured from the inn.
    The ale seemed to loosen the girl’s tongue. Her face was soon flushed, her conversation less shy. ‘Are you looking forward to your wedding, Mistress? It will be exciting to dress you for the marriage feast. My last mistress died of childbed fever, but she looked lovely before the altar. Only sixteen years of age, she was, but pretty as a magpie with black hair and white skin.’ Her maid looked at her appraisingly. ‘With your golden hair, you would suit scarlet or deep blue for a wedding gown. With poppies or cornflowers in your hair.’
    ‘I have hardly thought of what to wear,’ Eloise murmured. ‘Not that it matters yet. My wedding is still far off.’
    Mary looked at her coyly. ‘Is that so, Mistress? I thought you would be wed as soon as we arrived in Yorkshire, from what they were saying at court.’
    Eloise looked at her sharply. She disliked the idea that she had become a source of court gossip, though she supposed it was inevitable with a bridegroom of Lord Wolf’s stature and reputation. He was handsome and influential enough to have drawn the eye of many restless wives and maids at court, and could have had his pick of the younger women for a bride. Though she had heard no gossip against him in that way. It seemed her prospective husband had been careful to avoid entangling himself with any one mistress in particular, whatever discreet pleasures he might have taken on his returns from the battlefield.
    He was a clever man, she had to grant him that.
    ‘And what were they saying?’
    ‘Only that his lordship was most impatient to be wed,’ Mary whispered, watching her with a sly smile on her face. ‘That he would barely wait for the banns to be decently read in church before dragging you off to his bed.’
    ‘Mary!’
    ‘Forgive me, Mistress.’ Her maid bit her lip, looking down at her hands. ‘Though there’s no shame in a man’s impatience. At least his lordship will not be an indifferent husband.’
    Eloise did not know how to answer that, so she bade the girl hold her tongue and pass her a box of sweet comfits. But she felt uneasy at the thought of Wolf’s impatience.
    In a hastily arranged marriage such as this, where the unfortunate bride was all but whipped to the altar, indifference on the husband’s part would be a blessing. The thought of Lord Wolf’s desire