Page 51 of Historical Hotties
“Nay, your grace.”
The duke sighed with exasperation. “What is happening with these women?” he demanded. “Dacia and Amata are usually quite close, especially when Amata visits. What nonsense is going around?”
The majordomo simply shook his head, which didn’t satisfy Doncaster. Frustrated, he turned back to his food and drink.
“Women,” he muttered to Cassius, seated at his right. “Dacia’s grandmother was not like that. She was a calm and sensible woman.”
Cassius had watched the exchange about the women carefully, knowing exactly why Amata was pleading illness. Frankly, he was glad because that meant he wouldn’t have to deal with her on this night. He was much more concerned with Dacia making an appearance.
He found that he was eagerly awaiting it.
“Sometimes they are unpredictable creatures, your grace,” he said. “I have two sisters, a mother, a grandmother, and a host of female relatives. I’ve seen just how unpredictable they can be.”
The duke snorted in agreement but, in truth, he couldn’t give the subject of women much more attention than he already had.
He moved on.
“Have you sent word for reinforcements as we discussed earlier?” he asked Cassius.
“De Shera did,” Cassius said, rolling with the change of focus. “The missives went out earlier today and with the castles being so close, I should expect an answer in a day or two. We’ll assemble enough men to wipe through Hagg easily.”
Doncaster was holding his cup, staring into the ruby-red liquid. “I still wish I could have spoken to Catesby,” he said. “All of this seems so… unnecessary.”
Cassius wasn’t sure what to say to that. The duke wanted a peaceful resolution but Hagg had already dictated the terms and they most certainly weren’t peaceful. He was about to take another drink of his wine when he caught sight of someone entering through the servants’ alcove.
Dacia had finally arrived.
His heart skipped a beat.
She was wearing a gray gown with silver silk panels that reflected light as she walked. The front of the gown was laced up with silver ribbons and there was elaborate silver thread embroidery around the neckline. The sleeves were long and belled, with white fur trim, and as she drew closer, Cassius could see just how beautiful she looked.
And no veils.
He was on his feet.
“Lady Dacia,” he said. “Please come and sit. It is good of you to join us.”
Rhori and Bose, in their customary places across the table from Cassius and the duke, glanced up at the lady without much interest until they saw how beautiful she was. Then, she had their attention. But Cassius had beat them to the punch. He was already holding out a chair for her, which she took graciously.
“I hope I am not disturbing your conversation,” Dacia said, looking over to her grandfather. “I hope I am welcome, Grandfather. Sir Cassius asked me to join the feast and I could not refuse.”
Doncaster was looking at her strangely. “You are always welcome, child,” he said. “But why are you not covered up?”
He was gesturing at her face, asking a rather blunt question for all to hear. Cassius could see the mottle coming to Dacia’s cheeks and he hastened to answer.
“Because I asked her not to,” he said. “It is rude to hide from guests as she does. Men like to see who we are speaking to.”
Doncaster looked at Cassius with surprise. “You asked her not to wear her veils?” he said, sounding confused. “She knows that if she attends a meal here, with guests, that she is to cover herself.”
“Why?”
The duke pointed at her. “Look at her face,” he said. “Men will see that she bears the marks.”
Poor Dacia looked at her lap. Already, the situation was taking a downturn. She had come into the hall, radiant and lovely, and now her own grandfather had embarrassed her. Cassius could feel his temper rise, which wasn’t a good thing. As he’d mentioned to Bose and Rhori, he had the Scots temper. Usually, it took a great deal to rile him but, in this instance, the reaction was instant.
“She has freckles on her face that are unique and charming, your grace,” he said, trying to restrain himself from sounding angry. “You have a beautiful, cultured granddaughter that you keep hidden away as if she were a shameful secret. The marks on her face are of God’s creation, not the devil’s, and no man has a right to cover up God’s careful work. Whoever told you that Lady Dacia should be covered up was grossly mistaken.”
The duke looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You are not offended by her?”
