Her Dark and Dangerous Lord

by Anne Herries

  ‘Henry is a fair man, but there is no doubt that I have abused my position of trust. I ought to have returned and asked permission to search for Anne, but I could not bring myself to give up the search once it was begun. I might have been searching still if Lord de Montfort had not sent out messengers to find me.’

  ‘He thought Anne might be the person for whom you searched,’ Hassan said. ‘He wanted her to remember who she was, though had she not been snatched away from us she would even now be his wife.’

  ‘She owes her life to him,’ Harry said. ‘Yet my father will not allow the marriage unless it is what she truly wants.’ He offered his hand to Hassan, who took it and clasped it with his own. ‘I am glad to have met you, sir. My family is in Lord de Montfort’s debt. If there is ever anything I can do to be of service to you, you must send word. I am mostly at court unless the King has work for me elsewhere.’

  ‘I shall give my lord your message,’ Hassan said and smiled. ‘You are very like your sister, though you have not quite the same colouring. Please send my good wishes to her when you see her again.’

  ‘I do not know when that may be,’ Harry told him. ‘I shall send word to my family that I am in London, for I may not be able to go home for a while.’ He frowned as he thought of his wedding. Would Claire have grown tired of waiting? Had her father taken her back to France? Many a lady would not have shown as much forbearance as she had, and he could only hope that she was content to wait until he could arrange their wedding.

  ‘We must part,’ Hassan said. ‘My way lies in another direction, for I know where my lord will be. I know that he has Lord Cowper penned up like a caged animal. He will not let him escape this time.’

  Anne stared out of the window. It was raining again, the sky grey and forbidding. She longed for the blue skies of Normandy, and the sunlit days she had spent there seemed an idyllic memory. A memory it seemed that must last her a lifetime.

  Stefan had not come to her, though they had been home for some days. She had begun to despair that he ever would. She knew that he needed to settle the score with his enemy, but why had he not sent her word of some kind?

  If he truly cared for her he would surely have come or at least written her a letter? Her heart ached and sometimes she thought it would break if Stefan did not come for her soon.

  ‘I have a letter from Harry,’ Rob said as he entered the small chamber where the three women were sitting at their sewing. ‘He has gone straight to court, as I expected. He must wait on Henry’s pleasure, for his extended leave of absence will not meet with favour in his Majesty’s eyes. I doubt he will be punished for it, because I wrote begging the King’s indulgence—but he will not be given further leave just yet.’

  Melissa looked at her husband expectantly. They had discussed this eventuality and she knew his feelings on the matter.

  ‘Shall you write to Harry and ask what he wishes to do—or shall we all travel to London together?’

  ‘Claire’s father is of the opinion that the marriage had better take place in London rather than be postponed yet again. He has business at home, but has delayed his return to be here for the wedding.’

  ‘My poor father does not like to be so long from home,’ Claire said. ‘I am quite content to be married in London—if it is Harry’s wish.’

  ‘He might not ask it of you,’ Rob said. ‘I am sure it is what he would wish.’ His dark gaze travelled to Anne, who had sat quietly at her embroidery, saying nothing. ‘Do you feel like accompanying us to London, Anne? I have wondered if you felt quite well of late?’

  ‘I am perfectly well,’ Anne said as she looked up and met his concerned look. ‘If I am quiet, it is because I have things on my mind. Forgive me, Father, if I have worried you, but I am not just as I was before I left home with my brother.’

  ‘Your suffering has changed you,’ Rob said. ‘I am sorry for it, Anne. I would like to see you happy again, as you used to be.’

  ‘I am content to be here, Father.’

  Anne bent her head over her work, smothering a sigh. They had been home for two weeks now and she had hoped that Stefan would come or at least send a message. It was possible he did not know that she was at home, of course, though she believed Hassan would have been in touch with him. The two were close, more like blood brothers than master and servant, and she knew that Stefan relied on his friend to keep him informed of what went on at the chateau.

  She had no idea of whether Stefan was still in England or whether he had returned to his chateau. She had hoped that he would come to claim her, and she still clung to that hope, though it was not as bright as it had been once.

  She stood up, excusing herself to the others. Going upstairs to her room, Anne fought the tears that threatened to fall. Did he even think of her? It was so long since she had seen him. She did not know how she could bear her life if she never saw Stefan again, but she was not sure he would ever come.

  ‘So, she is truly well and at home with her father.’ Stefan turned from his contemplation of a windswept scene to face his friend. ‘It is good news that you bring, Hassan. I was sure that she would recover before I left her, but I have been torn with the desire to see her and the need to stay away until this business is finished.’

  ‘And the papers I found?’ Hassan asked. ‘Are they of any help in your quest to have your birthright restored?’

  Stefan had taken the papers, but as yet had hardly glanced at them. ‘As you say, it is proof enough if I needed it that someone attempted to forge my father’s signature, though it does not prove Cowper responsible.’

  ‘What of the letter from your father?’

  ‘Was there such a letter?’ Stefan picked up the papers and looked again. He saw the wax seal and knew his father must have written the letter, though the hand was hardly legible. ‘This was with the other papers in the man’s pouch?’ Hassan inclined his head and Stefan broke the seal. He read for some minutes and then made a moaning sound, screwing the paper into a ball as his hand clenched in distress. His eyes met Hassan’s. ‘My father begs me to forgive him for denying me all that ought by right to have been mine. He says that he knows Cowper lied to him and he no longer believes that I murdered my brother, for he has learned it was at Sir Hugh’s murderous hand that my brother died.’

  ‘This is the proof you needed,’ Hassan said, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. ‘No wonder Fritz believed that you would pay good money for these things.’

  ‘If only Father had sent this letter a year or two earlier,’ Stefan grated, his voice breaking with emotion. ‘I could have been there—prevented the humiliation they heaped upon him as his mind weakened. That is worse than all the rest, Hassan. I do not care for the house or the land or the gold that Cowper stole. It is my father’s pride, his dignity.’

  ‘You have challenged Cowper to single combat. If he accepts you can kill him and remain within the law.’

  ‘He has refused me,’ Stefan said. ‘I had decided that I would go into the house and kill him there in his own filth like the rat he is.’ He scowled at nothing in particular. ‘They tell me he never washes, nor does he sleep. He wanders the house in fear of his life.’

  ‘Is that not punishment enough?’ Hassan asked, his dark eyes intent on Stefan’s face. ‘Go to London, my lord. Lay your case before the King again. You have proof now that Cowper lied all those years ago. If you kill him, you will never free yourself of the stain of his blood. What do you truly desire most—revenge for your father or a life with the woman you love?’

  Stefan looked at him for a long time, and then inclined his head. He had battled with his conscience long enough, but now he knew that his father would wish to see him settled and happy above all else. ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I have fought for gold, but I am not a murderer. I shall go to London.’

  Anne had envied her sister Catherine when their brother took her to court. She wished that she might go with her, but her parents had considered her too young at that time. She smiled now as
she remembered fancying herself in love with Will Shearer. How young and foolish she had been, thinking only of her new gowns and the trinkets she would buy from the fair. She still took pride in her clothes, of course, though they did not mean as much now. However, she had made herself a new gown for the coming trip, because Claire had insisted on helping her.

  ‘I have many pretty gowns,’ Claire said when Anne asked if she did not wish to make something for herself. ‘You lost the clothes you took with you to France and have only what you brought home with you.’

  ‘I have enough,’ Anne told her, but realised that Claire truly wanted to do something for her. ‘But a new gown is always welcome.’

  Anne was glad that Claire was to wed Harry. Her brother deserved the best and Claire had a sweet nature. The two girls had worked on Anne’s new gown, becoming closer in the process, as Claire had confided her pleasure in her coming marriage.

  ‘I love Sir Harry very much,’ Claire told her. ‘And yet I am a little anxious at the thought of becoming a wife, for I would not wish to fail him.’

  ‘How could you fail Harry when he loves you so?’ Anne asked with a smile. ‘I know that you will make him a good wife and a wonderful chatelaine of his home.’

  Claire thanked her shyly, a look of content in her eyes. ‘In truth, I can hardly wait to see Harry again.’

  Anne saw the dreamy expression in her face and knew she was thinking of her betrothed. Claire felt as Anne had when she had believed she was soon to be married to the man she loved. Anne’s dreams had been shattered when she was stolen from Stefan’s garden, and in the weeks since she had recovered her senses she had gradually come to think that he had asked her to marry him simply because she had nowhere else to go.

  Now she was to visit the court in London. It was something she had longed for when she was still a child and impatient to be a woman. Yet, on the verge of achieving her childhood dream, Anne knew that the only thing she truly wanted was to be back at the chateau with Stefan. Her pride would not let her ask him to return to her, though if he did not she felt her life would be empty.

  The journey to London was uneventful. Lord Melford’s train was a large one—it was made up of his whole family, including the Earl and Countess of Gifford, their children and servants. The Comte St Orleans, his daughter and servants swelled their numbers. There were so many of them that only the most prestigious of inns could accommodate them, and several times they stayed with Rob’s friends, who had large houses, but were pressed to find rooms for them all. Claire and Anne shared a room, but found this no hardship, for they had become great friends.

  Rob had secured the largest available house he could find, but the Earl of Gifford had his own London house and so the family was divided by a few streets, though close enough to visit often. Lady Anne Shearer—for whom Anne had been named as a baby—had written to tell them that she would be visiting her house in London. She and Lady Melford were great friends and it was an opportunity for them to meet and entertain each other.

  Although Claire had become her particular friend, Anne was happy to see her sister again. She was reminded of Catherine’s determination to marry only the man she loved and no other and it heartened her. The general mood was one of pleasure and, by the time they reached London, Anne’s spirits had lifted. Everyone was excited about visiting the court and the other pleasures of town, not least of which was the chance to visit shops they could only dream of most of the year.

  ‘You must visit the silk merchants in Cheapside,’ Catherine told Anne. ‘You will love the fine materials you will find there, dearest. Andrew says I must take you to my seamstress and commission at least two new gowns for you to wear to court at his expense.’

  ‘Your husband is generous,’ Anne said, smothering a sigh as she thought of her visit to the silk merchants at Cherbourg. How excited she had been that day; it had been a wonderful day until the attack on them by Lord Cowper’s men. She looked at her sister thoughtfully. ‘Tell me, Catherine, are you as happy as you were the day you wed him?’

  ‘I am much happier,’ Catherine told her with a contented smile. ‘I was not sure at the time that Andrew loved me, for the King ordered our marriage to settle the feud between our families.’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ Anne said, looking at her curiously. ‘How did you feel? You must have been torn in two, because you already loved Andrew and yet you were not sure of his feelings for you.’

  ‘That is exactly how I felt,’ Catherine replied and looked at her face. ‘You were promised to wed Lord de Montfort—did you love him, Anne? I know there was a time when you thought you cared for Will Shearer.’

  ‘I believed I loved Will Shearer,’ Anne said. ‘I was very young then, and I did not truly understand love.’

  ‘You do now?’ Catherine looked at her and nodded. ‘Yes, I see that you do, dearest Anne. You have not heard from Lord de Montfort?’ Anne shook her head and Catherine touched her hand. ‘Do not despair. It may be that he has something he must do before he can come to you.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps that is it,’ Anne agreed. ‘He has an enemy who has tried to kill him more than once and he must settle the score.’

  ‘You speak of Lord Cowper?’ Catherine frowned. ‘Mother told me what you believed had happened. I spoke to Andrew about the matter and he promised to see what could be done.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Anne’s eyes widened as she looked at her sister, but Catherine shook her head.

  ‘I cannot say more for the moment, but Andrew says there may be hope of Stefan’s estate being restored to him if his cause is just. If he discovers anything that may help, he will seek an audience with the King.’

  ‘Andrew would do that for a man he does not know?’

  ‘I told him that I thought your happiness might depend on it,’ Catherine said and smiled at her. ‘My husband will do what he can, but I can promise nothing. If Lord William de Montfort truly sold his birthright, there is nothing anyone can do.’

  ‘I do not think Stefan cares so much for the land and house,’ Anne said, looking thoughtful. ‘He intended to give up his claims in return for peace after that last attempt was made on his life in Normandy. For my sake, I believe. He wants justice, nothing more.’

  ‘I see that you love him and believe in him,’ Catherine said. ‘Therefore I shall beg Andrew to intercede with the King on Lord de Montfort’s behalf.’

  ‘If he could be heard, perhaps he would think it justice enough,’ Anne said, her face filled with a wistful longing she was not aware was there. ‘He might then come to me…’

  Anne had enjoyed her morning. She, Claire and Catherine had been to visit the silk merchants in Cheapside. They had each purchased several lengths of silk and the costly cloth would be delivered to the seamstress for making up into their court gowns. She was smiling, talking easily with her sister and her friend, and it was only as they stopped to admire a display of wares in the silversmith’s window that she became aware someone was looking at her.

  Glancing to her right, Anne saw the two men and her heart caught. Stefan de Montfort here in London! Hassan was with him, dressed as usual in the clothes that seemed so strange on an English street and yet suited the man, the bottom half of his face covered to hide the terrible scars. She hesitated, and then took a step towards them, such a look of appeal on her face that Hassan came to her at once, Stefan a step behind him. Clearly he was less pleased to see her than Hassan, and that hurt.

  “Tis well met, my lady,’ Hassan said and bowed to her. ‘I am glad to see you well and happy. We were anxious for a time, but we heard that you were with your family.’

  ‘Yes…’ Anne’s gaze flew to Stefan’s face, looking for some sign that he was pleased to see her. His expression was sombre, though something in his eyes spoke to her despite his obvious reserve. ‘My lord…you are well?’

  ‘I am well,’ he replied. ‘I am glad to see you are much recovered, Mistress Melford. As Hassan has told you, you have been often in our thoughts.
’

  ‘In your thoughts?’ Anne asked, and despite her determination not to let it show, her longing and regret were in her face. ‘I have thought of you often. I had hoped you would come to visit me.’

  ‘I had intended…they told you I would come.’ A fire flamed in Stefan’s eyes; the heat seemed to scorch her. She wished that they were alone, longed for him to put his arms about her and hold her close. ‘You knew that I must settle with Cowper after what he did. You could never have been safe had I allowed his infamy to go unchecked. I challenged him to meet me in single combat…’ His expression was so harsh then that Anne’s heart caught. ‘He refused to meet me and so I must lay my complaints before the King. I must hope that he will hear me this time. Otherwise…’ He left the words unspoken, but Anne understood. He was telling her that if he could not find justice one way he would take it another—and until this business was settled he would not come to her. Her heart felt as if it would break. She loved him so!

  ‘I pray that the King will listen,’ Anne said. She considered telling him what Catherine had said to her, but decided it would be wrong to raise false hopes. Besides, her sister and Claire were looking curious and she knew they were waiting to be introduced. ‘Lord de Montfort—may I present Mademoiselle Claire St Orleans, my brother’s betrothed wife, and my sister, the Countess of Gifford.’

  ‘Ladies—’ Stefan made them a bow worthy of any courtier ‘—I am glad to make your acquaintance, and to see that Mistress Melford has such charming friends. I am sorry to leave you so soon, but I have an appointment.’ He turned to Anne once more. ‘Forgive me, I must go.’

  ‘Of course…’ She hesitated, then, gathering her courage, ‘You will call on us, sir? I believe we have things to say to one another?’

  Stefan’s eyes dwelled on her face, making her heart beat wildly. ‘Yes, I shall come,’ he promised. ‘I have waited because I was not sure…but you have my word that I shall come before I return to France.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Anne said and smiled suddenly. She had been so afraid that he did not truly care for her, but, despite his harsh looks and his neglect, something in his eyes told her that he felt this bond between them. He might deny it, as she had tried to do, but it was there. ‘I shall wait for that day, my lord.’ She looked at Hassan. ‘It was good to see you again, sir.’