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Critical Acclaim for the Marvelous Romances of … Jude Deveraux
REMEMBRANCE
“Brilliant…. unforgettable…. as romantic as A Knight in Shining Armor…. Ms. Deveraux brings this unusual romance to life, demonstrating that she is a superb craftsman and a mesmerizing story-teller….”
—Kathe Robin, Romantic Times
“One of the world’s top romance novelists has out-done herself…. This is a book that Deveraux fans who loved A Knight in Shining Armor have anxiously awaited, and it certainly does not disappoint.”
—Cheryl Rosamond, Lake Worth (FL) Herald
“Jude Deveraux has the knack for never letting up on the tension in the storyline…. REMEMBRANCE is filled with great plot twists…. amazing.”
—Druann Domangue, Lafayette (LA) Advertiser
A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR
“A glorious love story that spans centuries, worlds, and souls. It is the epitome of every woman’s fantasy, a knight in shining armor who comes to the modern-day rescue of a distressed damsel…. The very special hero and heroine are enchanting and extraordinary.”
—Chicago Daily Herald
“The ultimate romance reader’s fantasy … A Knight in Shining Armor will capture your heart, make you laugh, cry, and wish this could come true.”
—Romantic Times
SWEET LIAR
“A true thumbs-up.”
—Los Angeles Daily News
“A compelling mystery, a stunning love story…. funny, thrilling, warm, and loving…. Sweet Liar is a contemporary novel that only Jude Deveraux could write and one her fans will devour.”
—Romantic Times
“Another sexy winner….”
—Copley News Service
ETERNITY
“Get ready to be completely enchanted…. Warm and loving, funny and tender … an updated fairytale that will lift your heart.”
—Romantic Times
“Engaging characters, hilarious dialogue, colorful historical backdrop…. Deveraux’s tales are tender, funny, warm, and endearing….”
—Baton Rouge Advocate
MOUNTAIN LAUREL
“Tenderness, humor, passion, poignancy, and memorable romance…. Mountain Laurel is a delight.”
—Romantic Times
“Deveraux fans … will welcome yet another pair of feisty, independent souls whose conversation crackles with electricity.”
—Houston Chronicle
THE TAMING
“Vintage Deveraux—a fast-moving, psychologically acute rendition of the battle of the sexes set in a richly textured historical landscape…. Deveraux’s mastery of every trick of narrative art creates depth and resonance….”
—Publishers Weekly
“Delightful … The Taming is a winning combination … a very funny, engaging, fast-paced read that’s sure to please.”
—Rave Reviews
THE AWAKENING
“A tender, hilarious, intense love story…. Everything Jude Deveraux readers expect from her passionate pen…. This is a keeper.”
—Romantic Times
WISHES
“In Wishes, one of Jude Deveraux’s most enchanting stories, she blends a pinch of magic, a dash of Cinderella fantasy, and spoonfuls of fun into a stunning romance.”
—Rave Reviews
“Jude Deveraux always spins a gripping tale…. Plenty of passion—and the plot never slackens.”
—Booklist
Books by Jude Deveraux
The Velvet Promise
Highland Velvet
Velvet Song
Velvet Angel
Sweetbriar
Counterfeit Lady
Lost Lady
River Lady
Twin of Fire
Twin of Ice
The Temptress
The Raider
The Princess
The Awakening
The Maiden
The Taming
The Conquest
A Knight in Shining Armor
Wishes
Mountain Laurel
The Duchess
Eternity
Sweet Liar
The Invitation
Remembrance
The Heiress
Legend
Published by POCKET BOOKS
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS
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Copyright © 1995 by Deveraux, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN: 0-7434-1739-9
eISBN: 978-0-743-41739-6
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The Heiress
Chapter 1
England
1572
The Maidenhall heiress!”
Joby could hardly contain herself as she looked at her brother Jamie and her older sister, Berengaria, sitting so close to each other at the high table. She was no longer dazzled by the beauty of the two of them as she had been when she was small. Her father used to lift her high above his head and promise her that she was going to grow up to be as beautiful as her sister, Berengaria.
But he’d not told the truth. Not about that or, as it turned out, about a great many things. He’d not told the truth when he said they’d always have enough to eat and always have a warm, comfortable place to live. He’d not told the truth when he’d sworn that her mother would soon stop talking to her spirit people.
But most of all he’d lied about living forever.
Joby tossed her head of dark curls and looked up at her brother with stars in her eyes. Her hair had been shorn after she’d beaten some of the boys at sword play, and in retaliation, they had slathered her head with warm honey and pine pitch. Now her hair was growing back into glossy curls, and she found that she did indeed have one quite beautiful feature.
“The Maidenhall heiress,” she repeated. “Oh, Jamie, just think of all that lovely money. Do you think she bathes in a gold tub? Does she wear emeralds to bed?”
“Nothing else is in her bed,” Rhys, Jamie’s man, said under his breath. “That father of hers keeps her as locked up as his gold.”
Rhys gave a soft grunt as Thomas, Jamie’s only other retainer, kicked him under the table.
Joby well knew the kick was to silence Rhys because they thought that at twelve years old she knew nothing about anything, and they wanted to keep it that way. Joby wasn’t about to tell them what she knew or did not know, because in her opinion, there were already too many restrictions placed on her freedom. If any of the many adults in her life found out just exactly how much she did know, they’d start trying to find out where she had been to learn what she wasn’t supposed to know.
Jamie’s eyes were twinkling. “Perhaps not emeralds. But maybe she wears a silk nightgown.”
“Silk,” Joby said dreamily
, her head propped on her hand. “Italian silk or French?”
At that everyone at the table laughed, and Joby knew she had an audience. She might not win attention for her looks, but she knew that she could make people laugh.
Maybe their branch of the Montgomery family couldn’t afford jesters and other entertainers for dinner, or even much dinner for that matter, but Joby did what she could to enliven their otherwise dreary existence.
With one great leap she sprang to the top of the table, then bounded over it to the cold stone floor of the old castle.
With a bit of a frown, Jamie looked across the room at his mother, sitting so quietly, eating so little that no one could figure how she survived, but Joby’s mannerless enthusiasm did not penetrate their mother’s eternal dream world. She was vaguely looking in her youngest daughter’s direction, but Jamie had no idea if she could see her or not. Or if she did, whether or not she remembered who she was. Their mother was as likely to call Joby Edward or Berengaria or, sometimes, Joby’s real name of Margaret.
Jamie looked back at his young sister, as always dressed as a knight’s page in tights and jerkin. For the thousandth time he told himself he had to force her to start dressing as a girl, but even as he thought it, he knew he hadn’t the heart. Time enough for her to grow up and face the harshness of life. Let her be a child as long as possible.
“And how do you think she dresses each day?” Joby was saying as she stood before them. There were only five people at the table and a few servants—all that were left to them—beginning to straggle in from the kitchens, but Joby liked to imagine there were hundreds and she was on the stage before the queen.
Joby mimicked a woman awakening in the morning, stretching and yawning. “Bring me my gold chamber pot,” she commanded imperiously and was rewarded with a laugh from her sister. If what she did made Berengaria laugh, then Jamie would allow her to continue.
Joby began making rather vulgar movements of a woman lifting her nightgown and settling herself onto a chamberpot. “Oh, my, but these emeralds do give me the most delicious pain,” she said, wiggling about.
Jamie, who was whispering to Berengaria, raised one black eyebrow at Joby, letting her know she was not to go too far.
Joby straightened. “Here, bring me my dress. No! No! Not that one. Nor that one or that one or that one or that one. No, no, you fool. How many times have I told you that I have worn that gown before? I want new clothes. Always new clothes. What? This is a new gown? How do you expect the Maidenhall heiress to wear such as that? Why that silk is so thin it would … Why it would bend if I were to wear it.”
At that Rhys began to laugh, and even Thomas, who rarely laughed, crooked one corner of his mouth up. They’d seen women at court who wore gowns so stiff they might as well have been carved of wood.
“Now,” Joby said, standing back and looking at an imaginary gown, “this is more to my taste Here, you men there, lift me into it.”
At that even Thomas smiled broad enough to show his teeth, and a laugh escaped Jamie too.
Joby gave a great leap as though being lowered into the stiff dress, then waited while the hooks were latched.
“Now for my jewels.” Joby pretended to be looking at several displays of jewels. “Yes, here are the emeralds and the rubies and diamonds, and here are pearls. Which shall I choose?” she asked as though in answer to a question. “Choose? How does one choose jewels? I shall, of course, wear them all.”
Spreading her legs apart as though bracing herself for a storm at sea, Joby extended her arms. “All right, men, put your hands behind my shoulders and brace me. Now, you there, put my jewels on me.”
Everyone at the table was laughing as Joby extended first one foot, then the other, then an arm, then stretched her neck as though a hangman’s rope had elongated it for her. Then, with her neck still stretched, she somehow managed to convey the impression to her audience that her head was now being weighed down with great, massive earrings. And when the jeweled headdress was placed on top of her head, she visually swayed under the weight.
By now everyone, servants, retainers, family, all except Joby’s mother, were laughing helplessly.
“Release me now,” Joby said to the imaginary men still bracing her shoulders. For a moment she swayed dangerously, about to go down, first one side, then the other, looking like a drunken sailor standing on the deck of a storm at sea. Just when she was about to go down, she righted herself and finally, at last, with great dignity, held herself erect.
With difficulty, the audience quieted and awaited what came next.
“Now,” Joby said with gravity, “I shall see this man who is to escort me, the richest woman in all of England, across the country. I will see if he is worthy of taking me to the man my father has contracted for me to marry. But wait, tell me of him.”
Everyone at the table was sneaking looks at Jamie as he ducked his head shyly, holding Berengaria’s hand close to his heart. He’d only been home for a few days, and he found he could not bear to allow any of his family out of his sight or touch.
“James Montgomery,” Joby said. “Ah yes, I have heard of that family. A bit of money there, but not much. But then no one has riches to compare to me, do they? What?! Speak up! I cannot hear you. Yes, yes, that is better. I know in my heart how rich I am, but I am still a woman and I like to hear it said aloud.”
For a moment she was lost in thought as she admired her left arm. “Now, what was I speaking of? Oh yes. This man who has the privilege, the honor, of escorting me. He is a Montgomery. What is it you say? He is of the poor branch of the Montgomerys?”
Joby’s pixie face with its sharp nose wrinkled in puzzlement. “Poor? I do not believe I know this word. Please explain it to me.”
When the laughter had quieted again, she continued. “Ah, I see. People who have only a hundred silk dresses and only small jewels. What? No jewels? No silk? What’s that? You say this man lives in a house with only part of a roof and sometimes no meat on the table?”
At this Jamie frowned, knowing that this was why he’d agreed to take on the degrading employment of escorting some spoiled heiress across England to join her almost-as-rich fiancé. But even so, he did not like to hear it said aloud.
Joby ignored her brother’s frown. “If he has nothing to eat, he must be rather … small,” she said in wonder, making Jamie laugh and forget his very real problems. Small he was not.
“Shall I carry him about in a box?” Joby asked, holding up her hands, not forgetting to act as though her arms were weighed down with hundreds of jewels. She kept her fingers spread wide because her imaginary rings were so large they wouldn’t allow her to close her fingers. “A jeweled box, of course,” she said. “Ah yes, perhaps this is good. I see a way to carry more jewels. What! Is this box not made yet? You are dismissed! And you! And—Oh, I see, he is not small. He does not eat, but he is not small. I do not understand. But perhaps you had better send him in and let me see this … this … What was that word again? Ah, yes, poor. Let me see this moor, er, ah, poor person.”
At this Joby did a pantomime of the Maidenhall heiress standing utterly still, weighed down with all her many hundreds of jewels, and awaiting the arrival of James Montgomery.
Out of the side of her mouth, Joby made a creaking noise as of rusty door hinges trying to open. “I have it on authority,” she said as an aside to her audience, “that gold hinges creak abominably. That’s why we refuse to have them here.”
In the next moment Joby’s face changed to astonishment: her mouth dropped open, her eyes widened, then she threw her arm across her eyes as though to keep a bright light from blinding her. “You are too beautiful,” she said in a loud stage whisper.
At that, Jamie’s face turned red, and his two men, who were sick of seeing women make fools of themselves over the extraordinary beauty of Jamie, fell about themselves laughing.
“No jewel in the world,” Joby shouted above the loud laughter of the men, “could compare with your be
auty. Oh, I must have you. Must, must, must have you. Here!” she said and began pantomiming the removal of all her jewels, sliding them off her arms, her neck, her ears; running her hands along her head to remove great handfuls of them; tossing each precious piece at him.
“You must marry me,” Joby cried. “I cannot live without you. You are what I have been looking for all my life. Next to you, emeralds are dark; they do not twinkle as brightly as your eyes. Pearls have no luster next to your skin. Diamonds cannot—”
She broke off because Jamie grabbed the worn cushion from under him and threw it at her, hitting her squarely on her flat chest.
Catching it, she clasped it tightly. “This is from my most beautiful beloved. He … Oh, heavens, but he sat on it. That most tender part of him has touched it. Would that my eyes and lips could share what this lowly cushion has—”
This time she stopped because Jamie had bounded over the table and clasped his hand over her mouth. She nipped his little finger with her sharp teeth, and taken in surprise, he released his grip on her.
“His arms about me,” she said loudly. “I shall die from the pleasure of it.”
“You shall die if you do not shut up,” Jamie said. “Where have you learned such things as you have said? No, do not tell me. But if you have no care for my own delicate sensibilities, think how you shock your dear sister.”
Joby peeped around the great bulk of her brother to see her sister’s lovely face flushed with merriment. It suited her and her sister to pretend that Berengaria was as innocent and as angelic as she looked. The truth was that Joby was completely honest with her sister, often keeping her up half the night with tales of her latest escapade.
“Go!” Jamie commanded, motioning his arm to include everyone in the room. “Your ridicule of me is at an end. Tell me, little sister, what did you do for entertainment when I was not here to make merry of?”
Never at a loss for words, Joby said, “It was a solemn household. With only Father and Edward—” She broke off, the back of her hand going to her mouth.
For a moment there was silence in the worn, old hall as everyone seemed to have forgotten that just two days ago they had attended a double funeral. Technically, the household was in mourning, deep mourning, for the loss of the father and the eldest son of this branch of the Montgomery family. But the son, Edward, had never shared in the simple joys of family life, and their father had been absent, barricaded in his room at the top of the tower. It was difficult to weep for people who you rarely saw or, in Edward’s case, did not miss.
The Heiress Page 1
