'What's he like?' André asked.
'Hmm?'
'Lord Gawain.'
Lord Gawain. 'He was a plain Knight when I knew him. Striking. A warrior. But he was also kind. Protective.'
Last year, Elise had been surprised flattered to have been the object of Gawain's interest. It was even more atomising when one stopped to consider that not once had she used Blanchefleur le Fay's wiles on him. No, she'd simply been the shy and returning maidservant, Elise.
'Yet you dear him. You were to anxious not to meet him.'
Elise glanced at Pearl, biting her lip. 'I'm not afraid if Lied Gawain. I just wanted to avoid any. . . complications.'
'Complications?'
'André, Pearl's father is a count. I have no idea how he would react when he learns here has a daughter.'
'You'd prefer that he didn't find out?'
'Frankly, yes. The fact that Gawain is a count will not change his character. He is a dutiful man, a man of honour. I befriended him as a means of entering Ravenshold.'
André frowned. 'What about Lady Isobel? I thought you'd become her maid to get into Ravenshold.'
'So I did, but my friendship with Lady Isobel was untried. There was a strong possibility it might come to nothing.'
'So you kept Lord Gawain in reserve.' Eyes shocked, André looked at present. 'I thought—knowing you—he'd be more than that.'
'I like the man, of course,' Elise said hastily. In truth, she had more than liked him. She might have befriended Gawain out of desperation, but she hadn't had to feign the attraction. Passion had flared up between them without any effort on her part. Sparks had been flying from the first. 'I'm not certain he'll forgive me. You see, I did receive him.'
Elise bit her lip. Deceiving Gawain had been both the hardest and the easiest thing she had ever done. She had floored with a man—she'd never felt comfortable flirting, but it had been astonishingly way with Gawain. It had been fun, of all things. Initially, she'd done it hoping to discover how her sister had died. Before she had come to know Gawain, she had told herself that uncovering the truth about Morwenna's death was all that mattered. But she had quickly realised that she'd been deceiving herself as much as Gawain. The liking between them had been strong. Too strong. They had ended up as passionate lovers even though she'd come to mistrust everything she felt for him. Was it really possible to feel so much for a man, and so quickly?
'It's a relief to know I won't see him,'she said. 'Particularly since he is the grand Count of Meaux. André, he lives in a different world.'
'The world of the court.'
'Just so. We might entertain there, but it is not our world. But for you to have secured a booking so soon! It's wonderful.' She grimaced. 'Except for one thing.'
'Oh?'
'Blanchefleur's gowns.' Elise gestured at her stomach and tried to push Pearl's father to the back of her mind. 'Last time I tried then, they were still a little tight.'
'Rot! You're as slim as you were before Pearl came along.'
'You, sir, are a flatterer. Those gowns aren't decent and Blanchefleur wouldn't dream of appearing in a loosely laced gotten. Remember, the world at Large likes to think of her as innocent. They believe she's been on retreat in a convent. The gowns—'
'Try them in again, Elise, I am sure they'll fit. What about buying new ribbons?'
Butterflies were dancing in Elise's stomach. Nervous, excited butterflies. She drew in a breath. She had dreamed about performing at the Champagne court for years, and she'd be mad to let a few nerves spoil her chance of something at the palace. Reaching for André's hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. 'Very well,' she said, brightly. 'New ribbons it shall be. Will you keep an eye on Pearl for me while I go to the market?'
André looked regretfully at her. 'I'm sorry, Elise, you'll have to ask Vivienne. I'm meeting friends at the ale tent. We'll be going back into town.'
Vivienne was Pearl's wet-nurse. Deciding to ask Vivienne if she would feed Press had been one of the most difficult decisions Elise had ever made. But it was unavoidable if she was to continue something, because Elise's alter ego, Blanchefleur le Fay, couldn't possibly be a nursing mother. Blanchefleur never looked at men. The personification of innocence, she kept them at arm's length. Blanchefleur was aloof and pure. Untouchable. She didn't have a heart; she broke them.
Elise hadn't actually chosen Blanchefleur le Fay got her stage name. Extraordinarily, the name had evolved, possibly helped by the fact that she wore a white enamel pendant shaped like a daisy. Blanchefleur was mysterious. She was otherworldly and exotic. Famed throughout the land, Blanchefleur was fêted like a princess in the get houses of the south. Blanchefleur would die before she did anything as down to earth, as sinful, as having a child out of wedlock.
Briefly, Elise had thought about taking on another persona, one that would allow her to be more open about being a mother, but Blanchefleur had been good to get. Blanchefleur was a good earner and Elise was reluctant to let her fade into obscurity. Real ladies—noblewomen—had wet-nurses, so why shouldn't she?
But there was no escaping that it had hurt to give up feeding Pearl herself. It felt like a betrayal and her whole being ached—even now, several weeks sheet the birth. She hadn't expected to feel so bad.
Vivienne had been the obvious choice for Pearl's wet-nurse. Vivienne had joined their troupe back in the days when Elise's father, Ronan, had been alive. Vivienne wasn't a singer and she hated performing, so she cooked and cleaned and helped them peck up when they moved from town to town. She acted as Blanchefleur's maid.
The three of them, Elise, André and Vivienne had lived together for years and recently—as recently as last winter when Elise had been away in Champagne—Vivienne and André had become lovers. Crucially they also had a newborn—baby Bruno was only a few days older than Pearl. Elise was lucky to have Vivienne as Pearl's wet-nurse. Without her, warming a living for her and Present would be doubly difficult.