England
The year of our Lord, 1192
…“Sir Peter,” Lady Havendell faced him. He straightened, hands clasped behind his back like the soldier that he was. “I’m counting on you now. Don’t you dare let me down.”
He nodded stiffly.
For her mother, letting her down could mean… Oh, good Lord, but her mother was sending her home with Peter so that he could… could…
She loved her mother, but enough was enough.
“Play along with Gilburn’s idiocy, please,” Lady Havendell continued. “So that Zipporah and I can have this time with my husband. Once he’s gone.” Her voice faltered for the first time. “I will abdicate completely to Gilburn, and leave my home for good. Come Zipporah, and let us pack your things before Gilburn recovers from his humiliation.”
Zipporah took one last glance at Peter. He wasn’t looking at her. His gaze seemed focused on thin air…
Darcy Branwyn 
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