Summer watched Humphrey, laughing to herself. He circled round her like a hunter, but refused to move in for the kill. Was he hoping to make her jealous by giving attentions to other ladies? There was time and enough time for jealousy later, when she tasted the direction of his intent. Would once be all he sought, or would he try for a longer association?
She refused all invitations to dance, preferring to recite and discuss the Commedia with a like-minded lady-in-waiting of the Queen’s. Humphrey was waiting for some cue, she could tell. If it was some act of hers, he’d be waiting long, for she was minded to make him seek her out. Still, when their gazes crossed, Summer allowed him a welcoming smile.
The King departed and Humphrey sat at the high table for a while, observing the merry lot. They no longer paid respect to high lords – a sign he hoped to see before he approaches Summer. He wished it to be almost unrecognised by the drunk lords and ladies of the court. He had a reputation and was well aware of it, he wished to keep the lady out of it.
He took his chalice, and quickly checked his packet, the little leather pouch that his squire brought to him was still there. He slowly made way, bowing to ladies, stopping whenever someone said a “God Bless thee Duke Humphrey,” or a “Good eventide, my lord”, a drunken “Tis the most splendid of parties, Lord Humphrey” – he took time for all of them, making sure that no one would complain how the Duke turned away from the guests of the crown.
Finally, he arrived where she sat, the lady-in-waiting talking to her blushed immediately as he bowed his head to her. “Ladies…” he said cheerfully, “I keep wondering why the two of you would be left sitting, tis surely the waste of the most comely summer flowers by my fellow lords not taking you to dance…”
“Surely they have tried, your grace, yet none have been so appealing as to draw me away from my love of the lyric word. And you forget, distracted by your brothers no doubt, I am not so well-known here as you,” Summer laughed up at him. “What will you of us? I do not think you can dance with the both of us, for I will not share, nor Isobel either.” The two women exchanged a smiling glance, then turned bright eyes on the Duke.
“See ladies…” he said while he sat down, “tis why I thought to ask, since I would take it on me to ensure you enjoy the hospitality of the crown, yet…” he glanced towards the Queen, still at the high table, “I believe my beloved stepmother is about to leave, lady Isobel. Which,” he turned to Summer, “saves me from the awful situation of having to choose. As I believe my heart is promised to but one, thus I could not choose the other.” Indeed, Queen Joan stood from the table, Isobel had to go. “My beloved,” Humphrey said, placing a kiss on the back of Summer’s hand, “may I talk to you in private? Perhaps take some fresh air on the balcony?”
“Anything, my lord. I place myself entirely in your hands.” She let him lead her to the balcony, neatly side-stepping drunks and dogs. Once there, she drew away, clasping both hands on the railing and gazing upward. The night was clear and warm and the sky blossomed with the light of a million stars.
“Is not God’s work beautiful to behold?” she asked softly at last, turning to look at Humphrey.