"No, you should not have doubted me," Tearle said. "I have always been as I am. I have never changed."
Oliver frowned a bit at that but then smiled. "Yes, I see. You have always been a Howard. When do you leave?"
"Now," Tearle said, and he rose. He wanted to hear no more of Oliver's venom, but most important, he wanted to get to Anne Marshall. He hadn't told his brother the truth when he'd said he barely knew Anne. He'd tossed her on his knee when she was a child, had kissed her tears away when she'd fallen, had told her ghostly stories at bedtime and then received tongue-lashings from her mother for causing Anne to wake screaming in the night. An adult Anne had comforted Tearle when his mother had died.
Tearle knew that if he was to appear at the Marshall tournament in disguise, he had to get to Anne first and tell her of his plans.
Tearle sat on top of the garden wall and watched Anne and her ladies walking. One lady was, as usual, reading aloud. Tearle had often teased Anne for her scholarly ways; she seemed forever buried in a book.
He leaned back against a branch of an old apple tree and smiled at the sight. The women in their bright gowns, their elaborate headdresses trimmed with jewels and gauze veils, were a beautiful sight, but Anne stood out even from those women. Anne was a beauty among beauty. She was tiny, barely reaching a man's shoulder, and she was vain enough that she always surrounded herself with tall women. She looked like a precious jewel, and the towering women were a setting for that jewel.
As she and her women moved forward he had no doubt that Anne would see him. The other women would probably never look up, but Anne didn't miss anything. If possible, her brain was even brighter than her face was lovely. And, Tearle thought with a wince, her tongue could be as sharp as a blade. Too often he'd been on the receiving end of her barbs, and he knew how they could sting.
When Anne glanced up and saw him, only for a second did she look startled. Startled, but not fearful, for it would take more than one mere man to frighten Anne Marshall. Tearle gave her a smile, and she looked away quickly.
Within moments she had dismissed her women, sending them all away on errands, and she stood below Tearle, looking up at him.
He jumped lightly to the ground, took Anne's small hand, and kissed it. "The moon has no beauty compared to you. Flowers hide their faces in shame when you walk past. Butterflies close their wings; peacocks do not dare show themselves; jewels cease to sparkle; gold—"
"What do you want, Tearle?" Anne asked, pulling her hand away. "What causes you to skulk about my father's garden? Are you in love with one of my maids?"
"You wound me," he said, his hand to his heart as, stumbling as though he had been stabbed, he sat on a stone bench. "I have come merely to see you." He looked up at her with a bit of a grin. "I would forgive your accusations were you to sit on my knee as you used to do."
Anne's beautiful face relaxed its sternness, and she smiled as she sat beside him. "I have missed your silver tongue. Do you not find these English a sober lot?"
"Most sober. My brother is…" He didn't finish.
"I have heard. My sister has filled my ears with naught but gossip. Your family is at war with another family."
"Yes, the Peregrines."
"I have heard much of them," Anne said. "My sister attended the wedding of the eldest son to Lady Liana." She gave a delicate shudder.
"They are not so bad." He was on the point of telling Anne about Zared but stopped himself. It would not do to tell anyone she was female. If a person could not tell by looking at her, he did not deserve to be told. "The second son is coming to the tournament and means to win your hand."
Anne turned to look at him, astonishment on her beautiful face. "To win my hand? A Peregrine? For all your family's feud with them, you must not know much of those men. They are a filthy, ignorant lot. The oldest brother did not attend his own wedding feast. He was too busy counting the gold his bride brought him. When Lady Liana's stepmother was justifiably so angry she threatened to dissolve the marriage, he took his virginal bride upstairs and… and…" She stopped and looked away. "He is more animal than man."
"All hearsay," Tearle said in dismissal. "I have seen the men fight. The one who comes will do well in your tournament."
"He can beat you?"
/> Tearle smiled. "I don't plan to find out. I do not enter the games. I have come to ask a favor of you."
"Ah, so you have not come merely to see the flowers bow down in shame at my beauty?"
"Of course that was my first reason." He reached for her hand, but Anne pulled away.
"I would think more of your compliments if I hadn't heard you use the same ones since I was eight years old. Really, Tearle, you are too easy in your lovemaking. You need a woman who will not give in to you at hearing your same old tired flattery."
"A woman such as you? I could be happy if you would marry me."
"Ha! I shall marry a man who uses his brain instead of his brawn. I want a husband to whom I can talk. If I tried to speak to you of something besides armor and lances, you would fall asleep snoring."
He smiled at her sweetly. She didn't know him at all if that was what she thought most interested him. "I swear I would not fall asleep were I married to you. And I would give you something to do besides talk."
"Your bragging is wasted on me. Now tell me what favor you have to ask of me."
"I plan to help the Peregrines, and I do not want them to know I am a Howard. I shall pose as a man named Smith."