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eyes grew brilliant with anger. "You should be ashamed to ask such a question of me," she cried. "You bred me! You raised me! Do you not know me better than to listen to court gossip about me?" |
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Alinor clamped her jaw tight over hot words that could only hurt them both. "Do not be a fool, Joanna," she said when she had mastered her voice. "I do not accuse you of anything. My only interest is in your happiness. I told you before that you must only marry where you love." |
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"And I told you that I was well content with Geoffrey. |
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"Well content is not enough. Who is the other man?" |
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"I tell you it is rumor only, disgusting rumors spread about to smirch me." |
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"And I tell you I have heard no rumors." As the words came out of her mouth, Alinor realized that was suspicious in itself. If Isabella knew, then her ladies knew. It was very odd that none of those malicious tongues had waggedunless the queen had forbidden it. "Since I have heard nothing," Alinor went on, "you had better tell me the whole. Who is the man?" |
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For a moment Joanna looked rebellious; then her color faded and the brilliance died from her eyes. Reason always had a strong hold upon her, and it was necessary that Alinor know what had happened. "Henry de Braybrook," she replied. |
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An expression of revolted horror distorted Alinor's face. "Braybrook?" she whispered. How could her daughter, who had Simon and Ian for examples of what a man should be, refer a popinjay like Braybrook to Geoffrey? |
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"Well, it is not my fault," Joanna cried furiously, and then she sighed. Honesty forced her to admit that it was, to some degree, her fault. Haltingly, she began the tale of the queen's summons and her defense against it, the ridiculous wooing in the garden at Whitechurch. By the time she was halfway through, the loathing was gone from Alinor's face and she was laughing uproariously. |
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"I have told you and told you," she gasped when she |
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