The crimson silk clung to her body like a second skin. The design enhanced her slender shoulders and long arms, and molded to her shapely torso. The hemline trailed a foot or so behind her, as was fashionable for the times, and an intricate mesh of gold thread decorated both the sleeves and bodice.
A garment truly fit for a countess.
With garments fitted and being sewn, Teodora was no longer needed and Victoria took charge of her. After a quick bath, where Teodora was scrubbed and scraped within an inch of her life, Victoria dried her off and began to brush out her long, damp hair. With the help of another maid, the women styled a portion of the mane into a thick braid and wrapped it around the back of Teodora’s head. Attached to this was a golden net with streamers of pink and red silk, studded with tiny glitters of gold.
It was quite a production of grooming her for the coming feast, and something Teodora was quite unused to. All of that poking and brushing was quite irritating, but she kept silent, allowing the women to work their magic as Regal slept on a small couch against the wall, snoring loudly. When Teodora finally took a look at herself in Victoria’s small glass mirror, she was utterly shocked by what she saw.
“You are beautiful, Lady Teodora. Like an angel.”
Teodora cocked an eyebrow. Where had she heard that before? She suddenly wished her mother could see her, and she took to twirling around, just to see how the skirt billowed. The women praised her beauty, her delicateness, until Teodora stopped twirling and made a face at them.
“You sound like a bunch of insipid chickens, gaggling and clucking foolishly over the dominant hen.” She said it lightly enough that no one took offense. “But I thank you for your time and attention. I do not believe I have ever looked so presentable.”
The women agreed and giggled. Victoria chased them out, but not before she extracted promises that the rest of the garments would be finished before morning. When the maids were gone, Regal decided to wake up and attempted to inspect Teodora’s gown, but Teodora refused to let the old woman ruin the luscious garment with her destructive hands. Regal ended up chasing her around the room, cackling, as Teodora tried to stay out of her grandmother’s way.
“I shall not have you pawing my new dress,” Teodora said firmly. “You’ll ruin it with your damp hands and razor-like nails.”
“I will not, I say!” Regal bumped into a chair, upsetting it. “Come here, child, before I kill myself traipsing over this unfamiliar room.”
Victoria followed behind Regal, holding out her arms to catch the old woman if she fell. “Perhaps you should sit, Lady Regal. A comfortable chair and a chalice of mead would do you well.”
Regal came to a halt, turning to the sound of the voice. A gnarled hand came up and she fondled Victoria’s face, lingering on her long, thin nose.
“Not a rose, are you?” she muttered. “But you have a sweet voice that sings of angels.”
Victoria smiled sadly. “When was the last time you saw your reflection?”
Regal grunted. “Years ago. But why?”
“Because you are no rose, either.”
“But I am old.”
“And you are wrinkled, as well.”
Teodora laughed out loud. So did Regal, suddenly embracing Victoria to her withered chest and slapping the young woman on the buttocks. “I like her,” Regal declared.
Smiling, Victoria went to change her gown for the evening’s event. When she emerged from her small bedchamber some time later, she was clad in a pretty blue brocade that unfortunately emphasized the smallness of her chest. She sent for wine and cheese and they all ate, chatting amiably as if it hadn’t been a most eventful day. Almost as if everything was completely normal.
And Teodora appreciated it. Her horrid experience from the day was momentarily forgotten as she allowed herself the pleasure of Victoria’s company. She stopped thinking about Cullen, and Preston, long enough to enjoy the moment, and to calm herself somewhat.
There was truly nothing more she could do.
The conversation went on past sunset and the servants came to light the tapers, bringing golden light into the well-appointed chamber. As the women were finishing the last of the wine, the door to the antechamber suddenly opened and Victoria’s husband, accompanied by Sir Hamilton, entered the room.
Victoria’s face lit up when she saw her husband. It was obvious in that brief moment that she was madly, deeply in love with the man. Godfrey merely kissed her hand chastely, oblivious to her adoration.
“My lady wife,” he greeted formally. He looked at Teodora, smiling pleasantly. “I can see that you have the countess well prepared for the feast.”
There was something about Godfrey that Teodora didn’t like, though it was difficult to put her finger on it. Behind the meticulously neat appearance lay something strange and dark. It was almost as if the man before her was a facade somehow. He seemed stilted and smooth; almost too smooth.
There was something odd there.
Shaking off the grim observation, she glanced at Hamilton and to the dim corridor beyond. Somehow, she was hoping to see Cullen, but the corridor beyond was empty. She was coming to feel some anxiety again, wondering what had happened to the man after he’d left her. Clearly, he’d accomplished something in the garments he’d sent her, but she was far more concerned about the situation between Cullen and Preston. The fact that he hadn’t shown himself since the moment he’d left her off with Victoria was starting to eat at her.
“Where is Sir Cullen?” she asked as casually as she could.
Godfrey’s smile faded. “Attending the earl. ’Twould seem that our lord had an accident this afternoon involving his nose that required the attention of a physic.” He turned to Hamilton, motioning the man forward. “Ham and I have come to escort the countess and her lady-in-waiting to King John’s orgy.”
Hamilton was smiling so openly at Teodora that she found herself thoroughly bothered by it. She thought it looked as if he wanted to eat her, like a fancy piece of candy. But she took his offered arm out of courtesy.
“King John’s orgy?” she repeated, a bit timidly. “Are you certain?”
Godfrey nodded, laughing at his own wittiness. “Of course,” he said. “We are to take you to a decadent celebration in the fashion of the ancient Roman orgies. Come. Let us drink, eat, and become ridiculously inebriated.”
Teodora cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds wicked.”
Godfrey laughed again. “It is, my lady, it is.”
In truth, Teodora was a bit surprised that she was allowed to leave the chamber. The last she’d heard, Preston was screaming for her death and Cullen was trying to prevent it. But clearly, something must have changed, for surely Cullen would not have sent Godfrey and Hamilton to escort her to the feast had Preston still been out to punish her.
Perhaps Cullen had managed to soothe Preston’s rage, after all.
Leaving Regal in the chamber being watched by a servant, the knights in their cleanest, finest tunics escorted the two well-dressed women back through the labyrinth of corridors and stairs until they reached the ground level of Rodstone House. There was a fine carriage waiting for them in the courtyard, a box-shaped, fortified vehicle pulled by four heavy-boned horses.
As Teodora was helped into the carriage through the rear of it, she could see that the sides of it were wooden and iron, with the wood being painted with the bright blue of the House of de Lacy. Inside, there were cushioned benches, and she and Victoria sat as the rear of the cab was secured and off they went into the night.
Since the cab was fortified, there weren’t any real windows other than slits up toward the top of the cab itself. Through those slits, the soft night air wafted in along with the smells of smoke and the musty scent of the river. The jaunt to Westminster Palace was very short, indeed, over a fairly bumpy road, but within a minimal amount of time, they were coming to a halt and the rear of the cab was being opened again.
Then, the world came alive.
The great walls of We
stminster Palace loomed before them. There were people and lights everywhere, and as Teodora was escorted from the cab and led to the entrance to Westminster Hall, she could hear the music. Minstrels were roaming the floors and once inside the smoky great hall, there were tables heaped high with food and decorations of small trees with golden boughs. Hundreds of expensive tallow candles filled the hall with their warm glow as dozens of finely dressed noble guests strolled about, greeting each other in soft conversation.
Teodora was awed. The warmth, the smells, and the pageantry were nearly overwhelming. On Hamilton’s arm, she had been so upswept with her surroundings that it took her some time to realize that nearly a dozen de Lacy soldiers had accompanied them on their journey from the courtyard outside.
Boxed in by silver and blue tunics, Teodora was aware that she felt very much like a countess. For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful and elegant, a distinct departure from the woman who usually shunned everything lovely and fashionable. Everyone was staring at her, pointing, wondering who the beautiful woman in the crimson gown was. Tall and slender, Teodora presented an absolutely striking picture.
“My lady is the center of attention,” Hamilton commented to her. He was puffed up like a proud pigeon. “Surely there is not a more beautiful woman at Westminster.”
Teodora didn’t like compliments; unless, of course, they were coming from Cullen. She eyed Hamilton threateningly. “There are plenty of fine women. In fact, I’ve never seen so many.” She began to look around. “Isn’t this the king’s feast? Is he here?”
Hamilton pointed a meaty finger at the dais at one end of the great hall. “There, my lady,” he said. “That is where he shall be. The king is quite fond of these festive gatherings and enjoys every minute he can.”
Teodora looked at that end of the hall, noting the elaborately painted screen and carved walls. Above the king’s table, giant iron chandeliers were ablaze with light. There were people milling by the dais and, all over the hall, feasting on some of the food that was set out. In the middle of hall was a dance area where couples were repeating the steps to an ancient folkdance. A large group of musicians with a variety of instruments, including a lyre, several wooden flutes, and a mandolin, played precisely.
“Of course you dance, my lady,” Hamilton said, noting that she was intently studying the dancers.
Teodora shook her head. “Not since I was a child. I do not remember how.”
He laughed softly as he escorted her forward into the crowd. “I am sure there will be scores of noblemen to refresh your memory.”
As he said that, Teodora immediately noticed a man staring at her from the opposite side of the room. He was small, dressed in magnificent clothes that were wrinkled and stained. His black gaze raked her, one droopy eye giving him a dense and unattractive appearance. Teodora stared back, feeling a creeping sense of foreboding. There was something in his eyes that seemed to reach out and touch her, a dirty and inappropriate stroke. It was disturbing but difficult to describe.
Tearing her gaze away, she took the seat offered by Hamilton. She hoped the black-eyed man wasn’t one of the noblemen willing to give her dance lessons.
It was a hope, unfortunately, that was not to be.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Please tell me that the exquisite creature on Hamilton’s arm is none other than the new Lady Barklestone.”
John’s gaze was fixed on the far side of the hall as Barric stood beside him, his dirty dark hair hanging in his eyes. He could see where the man was looking.
“That is she, Highness,” he said.
“You’ve met her, then?”
Barric shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I’ve only heard rumor of her exceptional features. Tall, with white-blonde hair as fine as silk. That woman matches the description perfectly.”
John continued to observe her, pure lust glittering in his eyes. “Delicious, indeed,” he murmured. “I would meet this woman, Barric.”
Barric nodded. He had expected the command and was aware of the usual routine. “To your chambers, then?”
The king stroked his stubbled chin, the wheels of his mind spinning. “Nay,” he said slowly. “Have Hamilton bring her to my private solar. I should like to gaze upon her in the moonlight as she… entertains me.”
Barric turned to gaze at the woman, the smoky haze of the hall enveloping her distant form. It made her appear almost surreal, like a maid in the mist. Clearly, he could see that the rumors were true; Lady Barklestone was exceptional. The king, being an admirer of lovely women, was understandably attracted to her. No matter that her husband was an earl and a supporter of rebellion; that didn’t matter in the least. The king’s royal rights permitted him to take any woman he desired, married or not. Unfortunate husbands were not permitted to voice their indignity in any way.
Preston may have avoided the assassination attempt, but his wife was going to be another conduit by which to get to him.
Humiliate him.
“I shall see to it, Highness,” Barric said quietly.
John waved him off. “Have Hamilton bring her. She’ll permit a trusted knight to escort her rather than a man she does not know.”
“But what if the earl arrives and demands to know where his wife is? After the assassination attempt, he’s likely to be…”
John interrupted impatiently. “By the time Preston de Lacy arrives, I shall already have taken her and returned her to the hall.” He scratched his chin in thought. “But we might have a problem if de Nerra comes looking for her. You know how dedicated to the earl he is. Is there any way to keep him occupied for the evening, short of causing a major skirmish?”
Barric continued to eye Teodora from a distance. “We may not need to occupy him at all. Hamilton told me that the earl had an accident this afternoon that required a physic’s attention. De Nerra has been tending the earl like a mother hen, catering to him incessantly.”
John cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve never known de Nerra to cater to anyone. The man is far too proud. Tending de Lacy like a mother hen, did you say?”
“In Hamilton’s words, kissing his noble arse.”
John snorted. “God’s Bones, what a mental picture that makes. And it truly makes me wonder; is de Nerra out of favor with the earl somehow?”
“I would sincerely doubt it,” Barric replied. “But it, indeed, makes one wonder what has happened. A division of those two would benefit your cause tremendously. It would almost be too good to hope for.”
John nodded. “Tell Hamilton to keep an alert ear. I would know if, and why, de Lacy and his beloved de Nerra are quarreling.” He flicked a hand in the general direction of Lady de Lacy’s table. “Go, now. My impatience grows. And time dwindles.”
With a bow to the king, Barric made his way through the smoke and people, catching Hamilton’s eye and issuing silent commands. The knight, helping the countess with her seat, nodded imperceptibly.
John waited a nominal amount of time before quitting the hall with great anticipation.
“My apologies, my lady,” Hamilton was aghast. “How terribly clumsy of me!”
Teodora wiped gingerly at the huge wine stain covering the front of her new gown. It had all happened so fast. One moment Hamilton was handing her a chalice of deep-red wine, and in the next moment the entire cup was covering her from chin to lap.
“No serious damage done,” she said. But in truth, she was sickened that her beautiful dress was ruined. “I suppose it will wipe clean. Besides, the wine is red. Mayhap it will blend in with the fabric.”
Hamilton was beside himself. “That will not do for the Countess of Barklestone. A clean, new gown is the only answer. The earl will have fits if he arrives and sees that you are stained, and then he’ll most likely take my head off for causing you such shame.”
“There is no shame in spilled wine, Sir Hamilton.”
“There will be to the earl, my lady.”
Teodora looked concerned. “You’ll be in a great dea
l of trouble, won’t you?”
Hamilton nodded grimly. “Aye, my lady.”
She didn’t want Hamilton to fall out of favor because of a simple accident. Moreover, after what had happened this afternoon, the earl’s mood was certain to be more foul than usual and she didn’t want to antagonize the situation by wearing a stained gown. She rose to her feet.
“Then you may escort me back to my chambers where I may change my clothes,” she said. “Victoria?”
Victoria immediately rose and prepared to help her new mistress. But Hamilton held her off. “We’ll move more quickly, just the two of us. I shall have a chambermaid assist her and return quicker than a wink. You’ll serve her best by staying here and placating the earl should he arrive while we are missing.”
Victoria looked uncertain. “But my lady’s gowns will not be in her apartments. You must send a chambermaid to the seamstress’ home, the one who lives on Shoe Lane. She sews all of my clothing and that is who Cullen sent to do Lady Barklestone’s. She promised to have the countess’ gowns finished before the morrow.”
Hamilton seemed to be in a great hurry. “Very well,” he grasped Teodora’s arm, leading her away from the table. “I shall send a woman now. She can meet us back at Rodstone House.”
“You are going all the way back to Rodstone?”
Hamilton shot her an impatient glare. “Where else is she supposed to find her clothing?”
He had a point and Victoria shut her mouth. He seemed rather agitated. Instead of escorting Teodora from the hall, Hamilton was almost yanking her and Victoria watched them go, confusion in her eyes. She had known Hamilton a long time and he was not a man easily disturbed. Not even by the thought of the earl’s wrath.
Slowly, thoughtfully, Victoria regained her seat, her gaze moving about the room. It took her a moment to realize that the king was gone. He’d been there, and now he’d vanished, coincidentally, at the same time as Lady Barklestone had.
Victoria had been in London for a few years and there wasn’t much she hadn’t seen or heard as far as the reputations and lives of the nobility went. It was something that most savvy wives knew, and she very aware of the king and his unsavory reputation when it came to bedding the wives and daughters of his vassals. That, unfortunately, was common knowledge. She leaned over to her husband’s ear.
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 14
