by Jackie Ivie
“Will you need help with the door?”
“You still shadowing me, James? Well. See that a tub is sent up. The servants are still here, aren’t they?”
“Aye.”
“Good. They haven’t heard yet, then.”
“Heard of what?”
“My marriage. And change of status. Now that I’m no longer under Her Majesty’s protection, I cannot afford to keep servants.”
Bessie opened her mouth to tell him, but James forestalled her. “Actually...more help has arrived while I was attending you at Stansbury.”
“More? Where the devil did they come from?”
“I sent them, my lord,” Bessie replied.
“Bess. Please. You need to use my given name. My brother is listening.”
Bessie considered him for long moments. He’d been using a teasing tone, yet right now he sounded and looked fairly serious. This was horrible. And wonderful. Being held in his arms was one experience. Locking eyes with him stole her breath and sent heat throughout her chest area. It was so stupid! She daren’t let him affect her this much. Why...even with a veil between them, she couldn’t keep eye contact. The man was too stirring. He jumbled her thoughts and altered the elements. She had to look away or lose the ability to think. And speak.
He cleared his throat. “Why would you send servants that I cannot pay for? One thousand pounds sterling will not last long with that sort of drain on it.”
“They are my servants. I can send them where I may. They should have arrived from Crump last eve.”
“Send them back immediately. I can’t afford them.”
“I shall send them back once I get this farce annulled. And not before.”
“You need to start obeying me. That’s what needs to happen. Or did you miss that portion of the wedding vows, Wife?”
His emphasis on her title wasn’t angered. It sounded more like a caress.
Bessie jerked. She knew he felt it. It was in the way he sucked in on his cheeks, the smile that hovered on his lips, and the heavy breath he sent across her exposed skin below her veil. She countered it the only way she knew. With her cold, calculated, measured tone. She was quite proud of that.
“Why do you argue, Lord Hildebrand? I heard you quite distinctly the first day as we left London. I also add our wedding night at Crump. You made certain I knew of your feelings.”
“Ah. We’ve arrived. James? Get the door.”
“How much farther are you carrying this farce?” Bessie asked.
He tipped his head to one side. “To my bed. What do you say to that?”
A shocked exclamation was unacceptable. As was swooning. Yet for the barest moment, Bessie nearly did both. Her eyes went their widest. Her mouth had the same issue. Everything went to a complete standstill. Except her heart. It sent quick, heavy beats through both ears. She’d never dealt with such a combination of sensations. It took every ounce of effort to rein any reaction back. And years of training. Her heart hammered through every bit of it while he stood watching. As if he could easily pierce the veils weave and knew exactly what was happening.
And finally, she felt confident in a reply. Her voice was as calm and cool as usual. Only the slightest tremor betrayed anything. “You are abusing my good nature, Hildebrand.”
“Did you hear that, James? She’s claiming a good nature. She keeps it well hidden, doesn’t she?”
“I am not entering your woman-troubles at this stage, Devon. I have a tub to order. Are you still of a mind on festivities this eve?”
“Festivities?” Bessie looked back to Devon as she asked it. He wasn’t but a finger’s length away from her as he winked.
“Just immediate family, Bess. My siblings. Uncle Francis. They want to meet you.”
“I’ve nothing to wear, my lord.”
“If you don’t call me Devon, I’ll—”
He left his threat unfinished. It was her own stubbornness that made her ask.
“You will what?”
“I’m of a mind to see what secrets you hide beneath this veil of yours. And I’ve got James at my side for courage.”
“I don’t think you are amusing, my—Devon.”
He grinned, opened his arms, and Bessie dropped. She squealed as she landed on a feather-filled mattress, making a dent in it.
“I could warm to that endearment. ‘My Devon?’”
“I am getting my mud-covered petticoats all over your bed and that’s all you can say?”
“You can get whatever you like all over my bed, Bess. I’ll not be sleeping in it.”
Bessie’s heart lurched instantly. Painfully. She pressed a hand to her cleavage. She wasn’t able to stop the motion. Devon was absolutely right, too. Her bodice was cut very low.
“You may wish to look to your skirts as well, Bess dear. Why, I’ve not seen such a lovely turn of ankle since...well, since yesterday at the tourney. For a wench aiming for an annulment, you have a strange way about you. What say you, James?”
“I’d as lief leave, if you don’t mind.”
“You can wipe that self-satisfied look from your face, Devon Hildebrand. I was dropped from a considerable distance to a mattress. Any lady that could keep her skirts about her proper in such a position is more practiced at it than I am.”
“Does that mean you’re inexperienced in the way of bedding?”
“I’ll not dignify that with an answer. You know my history.”
“Your other husbands were men. I keep forgetting it. I look forward to showing you what a younger man is capable of.”
“As you’re not sleeping here, it shouldn’t arise.” Bess looked in surprise as both men laughed aloud.
“My. You are good with word games. Aren’t you?”
“I have no idea to what you’re referring.”
“And I believe every word of that.”
“You’re maddeningly dim and it’s becoming boring talking nonsensical things with you. Perhaps your brother has more wits. James? Perhaps you could see that I’ve a tub sent up? I am not fond of mud, despite the proof before you.”
“What?”
“She’s saying she’s decided to ignore me, James. She needs her bath. She needs clean clothing. She’s trying to pretend she doesn’t care where I sleep. It’s a very good game, isn’t it? She’s very good at it, too.”
“That’s what she said?” James asked.
“She’s using court speech. Like I said, it’s a game. Words can have several meanings. Nobody says anything at the queen’s court without blurring their meaning. I almost needed an interpreter at first.”
“But...I don’t care,” Bess said.
“It’s a round-about way to ask it, to be sure. I congratulate you, Bess.”
“You are the most insufferable, pig-headed, argumentative, maddening male of my existence, Lord Hildebrand! I grow tired of repeating myself. I neither care where you sleep, or if you do, or with whom! Is that clear enough for you?”
“There’s no need to shout, Bess, my dear.”
“I am not shouting!”
“I’d call it shouting. How about you, James?”
“I am not joining your women-trouble at this stage,” James answered.
“Why...you’d think she had red hair with this display of temper. Wouldn’t you?”
Bessie made a strangled sound as Devon’s words stopped everything. The red haze before her eyes. The pressured feeling in her chest. The acidic words. This was impossible. Unseemly. She didn’t know what was wrong. She’d never lost control like this. She took several calming breaths, trying to ignore the brothers as they continued their banter.
“Does she?”
“No. ’Tis brown. Or so, she says. As she also claims to own several rich estates, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“You’ve not seen her hair?”
“Not yet. I will tonight, though. Never fear.”
“I’ll not allow you near me, Lord Hildebrand. You forget yourself. We are not staying wed.”
At her words, Devon turned from his brother and smiled slightly, if a bit sadly. “The queen herself united us. She’d see us both punished if we go against her wishes, and well you know it.”
“I have lived through her punishments before.”
“A fine time you are having of it, too. What do you think, James?”
“I think I’d best go see to a tub,” James said.
“Order one in her ladyship’s chamber, too. My wife will need it. Directly.”
“I have a separate room? Why didn’t you say so? I hope it has good locks on the doors. And heavy bolts. Then all my wishes will be fulfilled.”
“Why, Bess. Here I thought you didn’t care where I slept.”
Bessie opened her mouth. Then shut it. Oh. He was good at word games. She couldn’t continue if she looked at him. His steady regard seemed to send too many silent messages. She turned away and spoke to the footboard. “We have gone over that subject in some detail already, my lord. I mean, Devon.”
“I did not get a satisfactory word in, however. Let me be perfectly clear. Unless the redhead lass from the joust can be found somewhere in the vicinity, I will be exactly where I should have been two nights ago.”
“I am not saying another word. I’m not. I don’t care what word games you think I’m playing.”
“James? Go, see to the tub and cease gawking.”
“I’d rather hear about the lass from the joust, if you don’t mind.”
Devon rolled his eyes and turned to his brother. Bessie surreptitiously watched them from the corner of her eye. They were very alike. Devon was slightly taller. Broader. And watching him sent her pulse racing.
“Is there a hired servant for my own use?” Devon asked his brother.
“I’ll find one.”
“Perhaps that’s best. I’ll need help with my own bath and I’ve tired of providing entertainment to you.”
“You’ll continue this at the sup, then?”
“Ask my wife. She’s the one carrying on word games.”
“I’m not carrying on anything, Devon. I’m tired. I’m covered with mud. I’m in a strange house, atop a strange bed, with a man who detests me, and tells me of it every chance he gets.”
“I don’t detest you, Bess dear. Truly. You didn’t come into my chamber last night or you’d have known of it.”
“If I’d done that, I would have known only that my husband is a cuckolding sort. That’s what would have happened. Nothing more.”
“Really? I wonder what makes you say that.”
Bessie clapped a hand to her mouth beneath the veil. Her eyes blurred with tears of mortification. She couldn’t believe she’d given herself away! She didn’t need the amused expression on Devon’s features for proof. How was this possible? She’d worked so hard her entire life to make certain she controlled her emotions and her tongue! But she’d never had to think so quickly, nor for so long, in her entire life.
“Well?” he prompted.
Bessie lifted her chin and faced him. It was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. She sucked in a breath. Tightened every bit of her body. Strove for a calm, collected tone, one that wouldn’t give anything more away.
“Does James...need to stay and hear this?”
“He’s just leaving. James.”
Devon gestured with his head. James left the room. The sound of his footsteps receded, leaving the room quieter. More intimate. Almost frightening.
“Enough word games. Tell me. Please. Why do you say I’m a cuckolding sort?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I’m not saying I am. And I’m not saying I’m not. What I’m asking is why you say it.”
“I...saw you yesterday at the joust. With that woman.”
“Everyone saw that. I appreciated a beautiful wench. I did nothing resembling betrayal. So, why is it you’re so certain?”
She couldn’t think of anything other than the truth.
“Would you like me to answer it for you?” he asked softly.
Bessie swallowed around a knot in her throat. Her hands felt like ice. Tears kept surfacing. Her nose was running. She fought the urge to sniff, further betraying everything. She should have known her game was over the moment he held her in the carriage this morning and wouldn’t let her go. Devon was a tormenting sort to pretend all day he didn’t know she’d been the woman who’d given him her favor. It made her failure much harder to bear.
Now, he had all the truths.
And she had nothing.
“You came to me last night, didn’t you?”
“What?” Surprise halted any urge to sob.
“You came to my room.”
“No. I—” Her voice stopped.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. And that means you’ve more than a passing interest in me, and where I sleep. And, definitely with whom. Come on. Confess.”
Bessie sniffed, trying to make it sound like a disdainful gesture. “I did nothing of the sort!”
“That is not very convincing. You care. Admit it.”
“I care nothing for you, Devon Hildebrand, nothing! I wasn’t in your rooms last night, or any other night!”
“And, of course I believe that.”
“It’s true. I swear it!”
“I suppose the next thing you’ll be telling me is that you’re the redhead wench from the tourney?”
“I wouldn’t stoop to such a story.”
Bessie sniffed again. And this time she tossed her head.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“This won’t do at all, Roberta. Find me something more concealing.”
“There’s but one other outfit I brought. See?”
“Why would you pack such gowns? I’ve no desire to display so much. I’ve also no reason to wear such rich fabric, either. I’m meeting my husband’s siblings and you’ve pressed court attire.”
“I fancied you were newly-wed and would wish to be at your best. I also thought your new family would appreciate your beauty, your good breeding, and your treasury. How was I to know you wanted to look stout, ugly, and poor? What magician was I supposed to ask?”
Bessie shook her head at her reflection. “Why does everything have to be so complicated?”
“Complicated?”
“Why can’t I just show him the truth? I could descend the stairs in this beautiful gown with my hair arrayed at its finest. I could, you know.”
“I am not the one who needs convincing, my lady.”
“If only he weren’t so wondrously fair! None of this would be necessary. Blast him!”
“I thought you possessed some sense. I see your time at court has taken all of it and tossed it out the window. The man was blessed with handsomeness, charm, and quite the presence...and you fault him for it?”
“It’s not that. It’s what he does with such...attributes.”
“Could it be a learned nature? The man is probably used to getting his way in just about everything. With just about everyone.”
“That’s just it! He does get his way. He expects it! And he has no regard for other’s feelings. None. He might be acting like a changed man, but you didn’t hear him in the carriage. Or on our wedding night. The man was...positively brutal. Help me with this neckline.” Bessie tried to pull the lace higher.
“You were never as particular about your clothing.”
“Are you certain there’s nothing else?”
“I took the collar from it so you could wear the veiling about your head. What else would you have me do?”
“Find something thick for a wrap. A shawl, perhaps?”
“What do you wish me to use? The bedding? As heavy and concealing as it is, though, it’s probably not sufficient for you. I don’t understand this, at all. I thank my stars I was born a commoner. And a plain one at that.”
“I feel bare. I’m displaying too much skin.”
“That never bothered you before.”
“I never wanted someone to notice other t
hings before.”
“What is it you wish him to notice? The shade of your veil? You’ve passed beyond sanity, my lady. You have. Truly.”
Bessie sighed dispiritedly, and sat on the edge of a chair. The dark-violet dress was correctly fashioned, from the wide high-waist velvet skirt, to the tight bodice with frills of lace about her neckline. It wasn’t Roberta’s fault the lace was designed to capture the eye, nor was it the maid’s fault the exposed skin was giving Bess trouble. She’d never been as aware of her own breasts before.
The veil she was intent upon wearing only added to her troubles. It skirted her shoulders, and barely covered her chin. It seemed designed to draw the eye to her bosom. Worse still, every breath she made was directed across her cleavage, raising goose flesh. It was unnerving.
“This is so stupid, Roberta.”
“As I’ve made mention already. So, what say, we send this plate of sup back, allow me to arrange your hair, and you set the entire family on its ear by appearing at their dinner in your God-given form?”
“If only it were that simple.”
“It is just that. He’ll be gratified to learn the redhead wench he speaks of is his wife. He’ll not look beyond that truth.”
“He speaks of the redhead? How do you know?”
“Blast my loose tongue! I swore I’d not say a word.”
“About what?”
“Perhaps I’ll just see to finding the garters for you. Those stockings won’t stay up by themselves. I know I packed a pair, or two. Now, let me see...”
Roberta busied herself in a trunk, while Bessie tipped her head to one side and waited.
“There’s a plain yellow set, and then there’s these. I don’t suppose you’d wish to wear anything so feminine and frivolous? No, of course, you wouldn’t. God forbid, someone might find out you’ve a pretty side.”
“What did he say?”
“Who?”
“My husband, the beauteous Lord Hildebrand. Remember him?”
“How can I forget? If it weren’t for him, you’d be decked out in your fancies and making my own breast swell with pride at the sight of you, instead of crouching in shame beneath the stairs.”
