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news.”
    Her hand smoothed her stomach, and Emelin realized the woman was with child.
    “I depend on her so,” Lady Dulsie added, beaming at her sister. “If you need help, I can let you have Ortha for a few weeks. Now that dear Cleo is at my side, I have little to keep Ortha busy. Although I must warn you, I’ll ask for her return after my own babe arrives.”
    A quick glance told her Dear Cleo wasn’t so enthusiastic about her new position. As for the expendable Ortha, she met Emelin’s glance with a blank expression and pink cheeks. The poor lady was embarrassed. And so would Emelin be, if she were traded around with no word, no thought to her own wishes.
    Oh Sweet Mary . Her face warmed with realization. That’s exactly what had happened.
    She decided immediately. “I would be grateful to have someone here.” Turning to Ortha, she added, “If you don’t mind to spend a few weeks with me?”
    Relief flickered in the other woman’s eyes. “I would be pleased to give you what help I can,” she whispered. “I do love the child already.”
    The continued reference to “the child” puzzled Emelin. Surely they didn’t think…? “Why do you speak of a child? That event will take at least nine months.”
    Absolute silence. Lady Dulsie’s face registered shock; Ortha’s neck reddened.
    Emelin caught the side of her lip between her teeth. She’d done it again. Spoken without thought. Why did those old habits return the moment St. Ursula’s doors shut behind her?
    Lady Cleo snickered. “Oh, my,” came her snide whisper. “Did our Lord Osbert neglect to mention that tiny fact? Why am I not surprised? Just like a man to ignore an unwanted daughter.”
    Emelin opened her mouth for air but couldn’t seem to inhale. Garley had said Lord Osbert was childless. No. He’d said the man had no heir. She had assumed that meant no children. How foolish for men to ignore a girl child as useless.
    A daughter. She’d have a young one to care for, to love. Now the future looked brighter.
    Now she could face her betrothed with smiles. Now she could put behind all thoughts of the knight whose kiss awakened a traitorous longing. It would be easy. Just moments ago, he rode out of her life. Forever.
    Lady Dulsie crowded onto the other side, her soft arm sliding around Emelin’s shoulders.
    “You see,” she said, “Lord Osbert sent the child to her grandparents when Lady Alexi died. But those unnatural people bundled her back a sennight ago. All alone the mite was, too, with only a guard to deliver her, along with a note, mind you. They are too old to raise an infant, they say. And that baby three, if a day.”
    Emelin’s gaze found Ortha’s. Her new companion nodded. A child, rejected by her family, ignored by her father. So familiar. Tenderness welled in Emelin; tears blurred her sight. Where was the little girl?
    She glanced across the busy hall. Where had the servant—Tilda—disappeared? As if in answer to the question, the tall, thin woman shuffled into view. Toddling alongside, hand clamped on Tilda’s forefinger, was an angel with golden ringlets.
    Coos from the ladies filled the air, sending the girl behind the servant’s skirts. Ortha stood to the side, her kind face sad. The child peered out, then ducked back. Tilda dragged her around to the front. The little girl stood motionless. She wore a plain dark smock, like that of a peasant child’s. Smudges spattered the front, likely from the same substance that smeared across her mouth and chin.
    Tilda nudged her forward. “This be Margaret, milady. Curtsey to your new mama, missy.”
    Big blue eyes darted among the four, then widened further at the sight of the thick wimple around Emelin’s face. The smeared mouth puckered, followed by a wail that could cut cold mutton. A tiny whirlwind launched at Ortha, buried the sticky face in her skirts and wept impressively.
    Muffled giggles sounded as Lady Dulsie struggled to contain herself. Cleo the Cat didn’t