Infamous

by Virginia Henley

  “Little did I realize I would soon become a countess myself,” Jory said, laughing. “Let’s find Catherine a chamber. I’m afraid Warwick is planning for us to leave tomorrow. I would dearly love to stay longer, Jane, but I do understand Guy’s longing to return to Flamstead Castle. His great passion is raising horses, and I know he doesn’t get to spend nearly enough time there.”

  Jane threw them a mischievous smile. “Warwick’s great passion is Jory de Beauchamp—’tis plain to any who see them together.”

  “Finding and marrying the perfect mate is the most important thing we will ever do in our lives. Choose wisely, Catherine.”

  The ladies spent the rest of the day in Jane’s lovely solar and never stopped talking. Both Jane and Catherine were from large families and had much in common. Grace Murray, Lincoln Robert’s Scottish nurse, brought him to the solar, where he played happily with all his wooden toys, which Lynx’s Welsh bowmen had carved for him. “Since this time I am hoping for a daughter, I trust they know how to carve dolls.”

  “I hope with all my heart that you get your wish, Jane.”

  “Thank you, Jory. I hope the same for you.”

  After dinner that night, Jory felt so sleepy she could hardly keep her eyes open. “I’m off to bed.” She glanced ruefully at Guy and Lynx, who seemed absorbed in discussing battle tactics.

  “I’m going up too,” Jane decided. “They won’t even miss us.”

  I’m tired because he kept me up all night making love. Where on earth does he get all that amazing energy? Perhaps I can steal an hour’s sleep before he comes to bed.

  On the return ride to Flamstead Castle, Jory relived her good-byes with Lynx and Jane. The simple Scottish lass had taken to her role as Lady de Warenne as if she’d been born to the part. Jane had no misgivings about having another child, and Jory vowed that she would try to emulate her wise and courageous sister-in-law. When she left, Lynx had cast a few worried glances her way, which she assumed were because of her pregnancy. Jory knew no one questioned that Warwick was the father and all assumed she was about four months along, when in reality she was at least five.

  When the horse pastures came into view in the late afternoon, Jory thought of Meg. “Catherine, you may put your trust in my husband’s steward, Mr. Burke. He will accommodate your needs and answer all your questions, but I give you a small word of caution about my tiring woman. Meg can be quite moody. She arrived at Warwick many years ago with my husband’s first wife, Isabel de Clare, and was nurse to Rickard de Beauchamp when he was a child.”

  Catherine blushed prettily at mention of Warwick’s son, Rickard. “She must be Welsh. I have much experience with their dark secretive natures. My own nursemaid at Wigmore was Welsh.”

  “Ah, that eases my mind somewhat. Meg has been with the family so long that she tends to take liberties.”

  Jory yawned. Jane had warned her that she would become soporific as her pregnancy progressed. The thought of a hammock stretched between two shade trees with a view of Flamstead’s grazing horses filled her imagination.

  A black animal streaked past their horses and howled his welcome at Warwick.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Catherine. It’s Brutus, my husband’s wolfhound. Like Warwick, his bark is worse than his bite.”

  Guy dismounted, greeted his dog affectionately, and came to his wife’s stirrup. “I hope the ride wasn’t too much for you, Jory.”

  She went down into his arms. “Of course not. I’m happy to be back at Flamstead because I know it’s your favorite castle.”

  “You should retire early. When I came to bed last night you were sound asleep and you didn’t move a muscle until morning.”

  She gave him a saucy glance. “We both moved too many muscles the night before. I feel fine, darling; stop worrying.”

  Jory took Catherine inside and the first person they encountered was Meg. “This young lady is Catherine—”

  “Mortimer,” Meg finished. “’Tis not just the yellow and green Mortimer colors she’s wearing; ’tis the strong family resemblance.”

  “How clever you are, Meg. I have invited Catherine to be my lady-in-waiting. I hope you will make her welcome.”

  “The Mortimers are second in importance only to the de Clares.” The tiring woman’s tone was condescending.

  “We are not worried about pecking order, Meg.”

  “Pecking order is important to all marcher barons, my lady.”

  Young Catherine giggled. “She’s right…It’s certainly important to the Mortimer males. Their ambition knows no bounds.”

  “Most males suffer from that disease,” Jory declared. “Since Mr. Burke is occupied with my husband, I’ll find Catherine a chamber while you get her bed linen, Meg.”

  Jory left the two females furbishing Catherine’s room and sought her own chamber. She sat down, pulled off her riding boots, and wriggled her toes. She was expecting a servant to bring up her luggage and was surprised when Guy opened the door and carried in one of her trunks.

  “I hope you can make do with this. There’s no point in dismantling the baggage wagon since we are returning to Warwick.”

  “What on earth are you talking about? We will be staying at Flamstead for a few weeks.”

  “If you are well enough to travel, we will be leaving for Warwick tomorrow.”

  “That’s ridiculous! We’ve only just arrived. Why on earth must we return to Warwick?”

  “Because of my commitment to the king,” he said shortly.

  Jory jumped up from her chair. “Guy, please don’t jest about such a thing. ’Tis not the least bit amusing.”

  “I am not jesting. Edward Plantagenet has called me and Warwick’s fighting force to war.”

  Jory was outraged. “Why didn’t you refuse? Or at least do the expedient thing and stall for time, as my brother did?”

  “The decision has been taken.” His words were curt, and his tone warned her to leave the matter alone.

  Jory ignored the warning. She flew at him and pummeled her clenched fists against his chest. “Your bloody decision! What about mine? Do I have no say in this matter?”

  He captured her hands and held them immobile. “No say whatsoever.” His dark face was closed against her. “I’ll have Meg bring you a tray. I suggest you get some rest.”

  When he released her hands and strode from the chamber, Jory gasped and sat down in disbelief. This cannot be happening!

  Dismay slowly washed over her, leaving her limp. She could not understand why Warwick had made the decision to go to war. It was untenable. She knew she must find a way to stop him.

  “I should never have flown at him in temper. That is not the way to persuade a dominant male to change his mind.” She might as well have pummeled her fists against the castle walls for all the impact they had made.

  Jory’s worried expression vanished and was replaced by her secret smile. When Guy comes to bed I will persuade him to my way of thinking. I will seduce the dark, dominant devil!

  She rose from the chair, suddenly bubbling with energy. She searched among her garments until she found a silk night rail that would conceal her slightly rounded belly while it revealed her lush breasts. “A little rouge on my nipples won’t hurt either.” The corners of her mouth lifted. Warwick doesn’t stand a chance!

  When Jory opened her eyes to sunlight, she felt slightly disoriented and it took her a moment to realize that she was at Flamstead Castle. “I must have fallen asleep waiting for Guy to come to bed.” She glanced at the undisturbed covers and knew he had not come at all last night. The devious devil purposely avoided me!

  Jory slid from the bed and dressed as quickly as she could. When I find him, I’ll tell him I feel ill. I’ll convince him I can’t possibly travel all the way to Warwick. “I promised him I would never lie to him,” she reminded herself. I don’t care; I have to stop him from fighting in Scotland. If I have to lie, I will do it gladly!

  Jory hurried down to the dining hall and when she didn’
t find him there, she walked across to the stables. Perhaps he had been up all night with a foaling mare. It’s autumn—too late for foaling. Jory ignored the voice in her head and walked through the vast stables. Warwick was not there and neither was Caesar.

  Jory retraced her steps and went in search of the steward. She found him in the kitchen. “I’m looking for my husband, Mr. Burke, have you any idea where he might be?”

  The steward gave her an apologetic look. “He has left for Warwick, my lady.”

  “Alone?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Alone save for Brutus and a string of horses.”

  “When did he leave?” she demanded.

  “He left last night, Lady Warwick. He insisted you must stay at Flamstead as long as you wished. The earl charged me with your well-being and gave me strict instructions to follow at a slow pace, whenever you felt up to traveling.”

  Jory dug her fists into her hips and lifted her chin defiantly. “I never felt better in my life. We will leave today, Mr. Burke.”

  Her anger gave her untold energy. She nimbly ran upstairs and encountered Catherine. “Pack your things and take them down to the bailey. We’re leaving for Warwick within the hour!”

  When she went into her chamber, Meg was there. She had brought up a breakfast tray for Jory.

  The tiring woman indicated the bed. “There is no need for Catherine to take over my duties, Lady Warwick.”

  “She didn’t make the bed. Pack your belongings, Meg. We are leaving for Warwick shortly. Put some pillows and blankets into a wagon. I may join you there for part of the journey. As you have probably guessed by now, I am going to have a baby.”

  “Are you pleased about the child?”

  What an odd thing to say! “Of course I am pleased, Meg. I am a woman who longs for motherhood.”

  “You shouldn’t travel on an empty stomach. Better hurry and eat your breakfast. The earl doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “The earl left for Warwick last night.” Jory flushed.

  Meg’s eyebrows shot up. Then she gave Jory a pitying look.

  “Damn you, woman! If you have something to say, say it!”

  Meg pressed her lips together. “I warrant there’s trouble in every marriage, my lady,” she said smugly.

  During the next two days, Jory had plenty of time to reflect upon what had happened. She was not afraid to travel without Guy, since she had half a dozen Warwick knights as well as Mr. Burke to guard her. She was, however, furious with her husband for leaving without her. Why did the devious devil abandon me? The reason was clear. It’s because I oppose his going to war to conquer Scotland.

  The travelers stopped at a stream to water their horses and Jory dismounted to stretch her legs. The bloody infamous Earl of Warwick is too dominant, aye, and too arrogant to even consider a female’s opinion or her wishes. He left so he wouldn’t have to discuss it with me!

  Mr. Burke approached. “Lady Warwick, would you like to rest for the night?”

  “The sun is still high. Of course I don’t wish to rest. We can cover many more miles before dark.”

  The following day they arrived at Warwick. Guy de Beauchamp stared in grim-faced disbelief as the small cavalcade rode into the bailey. He challenged Mr. Burke immediately. “I gave direct orders that you were to travel at a slow pace!”

  “The Countess of Warwick set the pace, my lord.”

  Jory saw that her husband’s fighting force was making preparations for war. Baggage carts were piled with campaign tents, weapons, and food supplies and she knew she did not have much time to stop the madness. Yet she was far too wise to challenge him before his men. Guy de Beauchamp’s unbending pride would never allow him to yield to a woman before witnesses.

  Jory looked straight into his eyes and communicated without words that she needed to be alone with him. Then she lowered her lashes as if acquiescing to his authority. With Mr. Burke’s assistance she gracefully dismounted and beckoned for young Catherine Mortimer to follow her into the castle. She asked Meg to plenish a chamber for the girl and told them she wanted her privacy and would not need their services again that night.

  Jory knew Guy would not come for some time. At all costs he would avoid the appearance of rushing to her side like some fawning lapdog. It would give her a chance to change into something more feminine than a riding dress and make sure her face and hair were as pretty as she could make them.

  Above all, Jory knew that she must not let her temper get the better of her. Flying at him and calling him names would put her at a distinct disadvantage with a man like Warwick. Rather, she must approach him as a supplicant. She must beseech him sweetly, gently, wistfully. The manipulation would have to be delicate.

  Jory bathed and donned the pale green dress in which she had been married to Warwick. She chose a jewel that would draw Guy’s attention to her body. From a heavy gold chain dangled a cabochon emerald that swung in the valley between her lush breasts. She brushed her hair until it crackled, then threaded a pretty green ribbon through her gilt curls. She darkened her lashes and put on deep rose lip rouge. Finally she touched her earlobes and her breasts with her favorite fragrance of freesia, the alluring scent she had been wearing the first night she went to him at Windsor.

  When Guy finally climbed the steps to her tower room he stepped inside and stood looking at her with guarded eyes. The way she had arrayed herself told him more than words that she was determined to change his mind about the decision he had taken and would use all her considerable feminine wiles to manipulate him.

  Jory warned herself not to recriminate him for leaving her at Flamstead. She appealed to him in a soft, sweet voice. “Guy, I don’t want you to answer Edward Plantagenet’s call to war. You have served him enough years. You grabbed victory from defeat at Falkirk for him and that should be enough. But it will never be enough. The king is selfish and demanding and without mercy. Instead of enjoying the time he has left to him, he thirsts to crush the Scots once again beneath his heel. I want you to have no part in the senseless killing and the bloodshed.”

  As he gazed at her, he knew everything she said was true. But he was not doing this for the king. His lust for revenge was personal. Guy did not answer her harshly. He spoke low, but his deep voice was implacable.

  “I have pledged my word to the king. My decision has been taken. Do not try to manipulate me, Jory.”

  Her eyes widened with apprehension and she took a tentative step toward him. “Guy, please, don’t go…don’t do this thing.”

  “Stop! Nothing will dissuade me!” His voice was now harsh.

  In supplication she moved toward him and captured his arm. “Guy, please, I beseech you. I beg you not to make war on Scotland.” Jory fell to her knees imploring him, pleading with him to listen, as she clung desperately to his arm.

  “Get up off your knees,” Warwick snarled through clenched teeth. “It sickens me that you would beg for your lover!”

  Jory was stunned. She sat back on her heels and tears flooded her eyes. In the name of Christ, how did you find out?

  “On our wedding night I vowed to find out the name of the whoreson who planted his seed and abandoned you. Robert Bruce is a dead man, Jory. Never doubt it!”

  “Guy, no! ’Tis for your sake I beg. I don’t want you to get wounded. I don’t want you to die!”

  Warwick’s face darkened with fury. “My sake? How dare you imply my fighting skills as a warrior are inferior to Robert Fucking Bruce!”

  Jory pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “Guy, I didn’t mean that!” Warwick’s face was distorted by his towering pride and she feared he would never forgive her for the things she had said. Or the thing she had done. Because her lover was King Robert Bruce, Warwick was consumed by jealousy and bloodlust.

  Jory sat alone long after Warwick slammed the door after he departed her chamber. “He won’t go. He’ll change his mind,” she whispered. Yet in her heart she knew full well that nothing would prevent him from march
ing into Scotland and dragging Robert Bruce from his throne. If she had not begged on her knees, Guy might have listened. But her act of abasement obliterated any chance she’d had of dissuading him.

  Jory was covered with guilt. She was the driving force behind Warwick’s vengeful decision. She made the sign of the cross. “Dear Lord God, don’t let them kill each other.”

  Chapter 26

  “Don’t have the men set up tents. If the king’s vanguard fails to arrive by tomorrow, we will press on to Carlisle,” Warwick directed Sir Hugh Ashton, his second in command. Guy de Beauchamp had been given orders by King Edward Plantagenet to await him at the royal castle of Kenilworth. But Warwick, not known for his patience, was countermanding those orders.

  The following day, a dispatch from King Edward was brought to Warwick by one of Ralph Monthermer’s lieutenants advising that Gloucester’s army would be arriving at Kenilworth shortly. De Beauchamp cooled his heels for three days until the king arrived. The next three days were spent in Kenilworth’s war room arguing battle tactics. At the end of six days Warwick’s temper was foul.

  Though Warwick argued vociferously against it, Gloucester was sent north with all speed, while Guy and his men-at-arms were ordered to accompany Edward Plantagenet.

  Guy de Beauchamp stood on the ramparts of Kenilworth from which he could see the towers of his own castle. He had to banish pictures of Jory that taunted him day and night. Each time he saw her tear-drenched green eyes begging him to spare Robert Bruce, his fury increased.

  “Why the hellfire has Edward commanded we act as his escort?”

  “I believe he thinks Warwick invincible,” Ashton replied.

  “Then we think alike for once.” Guy’s dark humor was the only thing that saved him from going mad.

  Finally, the king decided to advance and Warwick’s small army rode north slowly, making camp at Leicester, Nottingham, and Sheffield Castles. The earl’s patience was rubbed raw, and on the days when the king rested, Guy organized hunts for his knights in the dense forests that surrounded the great castles.