Summer sensed the guards behind her, and sighed. Then again, he’d no real reason to believe her capable of seeing to her own safety; they’d not made it out to the hunt, and so he could not know her proficiency with bow, nor had he any way of knowing her — particular skills. Anger spurred her to spur her horse in a vain attempt to leave the guards behind.Well, there would be other occasions to speak again, though she’d half-hoped he would stop her leaving. Perhaps she had been wrong to mention his past, but surely he couldn’t possibly expect her to ignore it? If he truly expected to treat her differently, he should have done so from the start — well, from their first meeting at Court, anyway. But no, he had begun with her as he had always begun with his women, and so how could she possibly know that his intentions might be different?
Even for her, such things were difficult to discern. Hair-fine shadings of emotion, at a time when her own were in turmoil, could easily deceive. Sleep did not come easily to her that night.
The next day, Humphrey started early and his first visit was to his guards to hear if his lady reached her home safely. The guards were not there, so he worried, until they finally arrived an hour after sunrise, being simply locked into London for the night as the gates were closed behind them after they followed the lady Summer, and the gatekeepers would not open for them no matter what. From their looks, they didn’t mind tho’; they must’ve slept the night in brothels and ale-houses.
Humphrey realised that it would be hard for him to escape the feast the next day: His brother sent him the seating plan and the menu, and as Chancellor of England summoned him to preside the feast. Now he was not only mandatory to attend, he was to wait on the king it seemed, though he was often summoned in his role only to sit at the king’s table like the rest of his brothers and uncles. With heavy heart tho, he rode to Westminster and learned all the details of the day ahead and what was expected of him. He couldn’t help but search the list of invitees to find the only name he cared for, and when he found it, he looked for the seating. He was terrified to see Summer and her father being seated with the once countess of Pembroke, and one of those culture-less Flemish merchants who was rumored her lover, they were known to be loudly complaining and arguing. He quickly revised the plan, before he left Westminster that night, noting that everything was as prepared as it could be.
The invitation to feast occasioned a loud and long argument between father and daughter, but the result was inevitable. Faintly sulky, Summer rode behind her father, politely sidesaddle, adorned with Humphrey’s necklace and properly resplendent in deep red linen. Deliberately demure, she trailed her father within, hands clasped and head bowed. She would not look for Humphrey. She would /not/.
He was brother to the King, Duke in his own right. Let him look for her.
But she couldn’t help glancing around.