The Bride Of Spring

by Catherine Archer

  Again Edward nodded as Benedict continued. “Clearly he feels himself justified in his anger, and due to the circumstances, I would not fault him on that. Yet I must tell you, your majesty, that he does not know the full events that led up to his brother’s death, which, I feel, exonerate Tristan.”

  “Why do you not then apprise him of the facts?”

  Benedict hesitated. “The situation is…well, delicate. You see, it involves my brother’s wife, Lillian Ainsworth, formerly Lillian Gray.”

  Edward shrugged, though the name did not seem new to him. Benedict was beginning to realize that the king was not quite as oblivious concerning this subject as he had first appeared. He probably did indeed know a great deal of the facts. Yet when he spoke it was still in that same unconcerned vein. “Harcourt’s letters have contained some mention of this woman and that she was his brother’s intended bride. He seems to be of the opinion that your brother Tristan spirited her away, thus bringing about the conflict in which his brother died.”

  Benedict was very glad that he was not attempting to get anything past this young king. Young he might be, but dim he was not. “That is, in part, true. Yet there are mitigating circumstances that, as I said, exonerate Tristan of any real wrongdoing in this.”

  Edward sat back with raised brows. “Again I say, why do you or your brother not simply make his reasons known?”

  Benedict frowned. “That would mean telling Alister Harcourt a very involved and extremely private tale. He could then relay the story to any who would heed him. Knowing nothing of his character, I hesitate to give him the power over my brother and his wife that knowing their secrets might afford. You see, sire, Lily and Tristan had been lovers three years before her engagement to Maxim, and there is a product of that union. My niece, Sabina.”

  Edward leaned forward. “I begin to see. You would not have this bandied about by those he might tell.”

  “Aye, sire. Lily and Tristan have been through enough. They had never intended for the child to be born out of wedlock. Due to an accident, Lily and Tristan were separated. When she awoke, she recalled nothing of Tristan or the babe. Her family felt it best to keep her past from her. It was not until Lily was on her way to marry Maxim Harcourt that Tristan saw her and kidnapped her, completely unaware that she recalled nothing of her past with him. Although I would not follow my brother’s method, I do understand his actions. He and Lily did have the prior commitment. Maxim Harcourt was killed in fair combat against Tristan.”

  Again Edward nodded. “So what is it you ask of me, Benedict? Do you wish for me to make an explanation to Alister Harcourt that would disabuse him of his perceived grievance with you and your family?”

  Benedict shook his head. “As I have told you, knowing nothing of the man’s character, I have no wish to tell him anything of my family’s misfortunes. Neither would I ask the crown to place itself in the position of contriving some excuse for me. What I would propose is that I pay a penalty to him by way of lands and monies. In that way he would feel that his perceived wrong had been avenged in some small way.”

  Light dawned in Edward’s eyes. “And you wish for me, as the king, to oversee this transaction?”

  “If you will be so kind as to do so. It might then seem as though you had set the penalty yourself. I would also have your approval of the transfer of the land and keep. You would not appear to be showing me any undo favor, as your father’s friend, and I would have no need to explain to Tristan what I am about. He is a proud man and would certainly rather take care of this matter himself, if he knew of it. And would do so quite well, I am certain. I simply wish to see that he and his new bride have some peace in their lives now. As I said, they have faced much to find a new life with one another.” Benedict was not unaware of the slightly wistful quality in his own voice when speaking of their love, and was surprised at it. Though he was very happy for the couple, he had no real desire to experience such an all-consuming love.

  Brackenmoore and his family were his passions. And that was the way he wanted it. Perhaps it was the recent wedding and all the joyous emotions around it that had left him with an uncharacteristically romantic bent.

  He focused his attention on Edward, who looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment. The king smiled. “Have you considered coming to live at court, Benedict? We can make use of such a diplomatic mind as yours.”

  Benedict shook his head. “I am much too occupied with running my estates, your majesty. I will leave the life of diplomacy to those who seek it.”

  Edward smiled again, this time ruefully, and pulled on the tasseled cord beside the dais. Immediately the steward entered, through a door partially hidden behind the throne. “Your majesty?”

  Edward addressed him. “Fetch me a clerk.”

  The man bowed and left as Edward rose and moved toward the table near the window. He poured wine from a gold pitcher into two ruby-colored glasses, then turned to hand one to Benedict. “Just out of curiosity, am I prepared to be generous toward Alister Harcourt?”

  Benedict smiled for the first time. “Oh, reasonably so, my lord, reasonably so.” He raised his glass to drink.

  Raine had heard every word as the clerk came and then went again, though she could see nothing from behind the heavy drapery. The more she heard, the more she wished to learn about Benedict Ainsworth, wished to see him. Yet she dared not risk looking out from her hiding place, for as the men talked she had begun to realize that she had indeed risked much in secluding herself in order to overhear the private conversation of a king.

  Few would believe that she had done this in order to discover all she could about a man she did not even know, even if she could explain her reasons to them. Yet Raine did not wish to worry about the possibility of being found out. All she had heard of Benedict Ainsworth had made her even more intrigued by him. He seemed a good, decent man, willing to give up his own property and money to protect the reputation of his brother’s wife and her child.

  As Raine listened to Benedict give the specifics of what he was willing to offer, she was again moved by his care for his family. If only she had a man to look after her in that way, someone like Ainsworth! Things might have been different for her if only there had been someone who felt a family affiliation to herself and William.

  But there was only Denley, and he cared nothing for them. Of that she was sure. He pretended a great interest in herself, but Raine knew of his longtime mistress, of their children.

  He kept them openly at his own home. Raine was somewhat surprised that he would not expect her to have had word of them. Perhaps he simply gave it no thought whatsoever. Many men kept both a mistress and a wife, though not nearly so openly.

  If Raine were ever to marry a man with the intention of actually living with him, she would never allow herself to be so blatantly dishonored. If she were not required to wed for the sake of protecting William and his lands she would…Her thoughts trailed down a list of qualities she would desire in a man.

  He would favor her with a modicum of respect.

  He would be kind.

  He would have his own wealth and thus would not wish to take what was William’s.

  He would behave with honor.

  He would understand the meaning of family.

  Again she found herself becoming aware of the two men’s voices. She could not help noting that Benedict Ainsworth’s seemed somehow deeper and richer than the king’s. At the same moment she realized that they sounded closer than before.

  Obviously the men were coming toward her. She strained to see through the dense velvet. If only she could give face to the voice she heard! Surely they were too intent on their conversation to pay her any heed. Moving ever so carefully, she peeked out from behind the curtain.

  And realized that the two men had moved even nearer than she had imagined and were standing mere feet from her. The heaviness of the drape had muffled the sound of their voices and made them seem farther away. She quickly drew back, but not before she ha
d glimpsed the face of Benedict Ainsworth. It was an arresting face, with kindness, warmth and firmness of character displayed in the smooth wide brow and the slight lines around his eyes. It was also a handsome face, with its pleasantly modeled and strong features, including a regal, straight nose and a pair of intense eyes of a startlingly deep cobalt-blue. Those direct and compelling eyes were surrounded by thick black lashes the same color as his raven hair.

  Raine’s heart felt like a throbbing drum in her chest, even though she was sure they had not seen her, for neither had been looking in her direction.

  Under no circumstances did she wish to be caught. Again she asked herself who would believe that she had hidden herself here for the reasons she had. Even if they would, she would not wish to admit her motives to either Edward or Ainsworth himself.

  At the thought of Benedict Ainsworth, another image of that pleasing face flashed though her mind. In spite of the risk, she felt a compelling desire to look at him again, to see if she had only imagined such an attractive visage.

  Benedict and Edward looked up at the same moment as the steward appeared in the door once more. “Your grace, an envoy has arrived with a reply to your message to France. I have taken him to a private chamber as you requested me to do upon his arrival.”

  Edward was very suddenly a king again as he replied, “I come.”

  He nodded to Benedict, who bowed deeply even as Edward left the chamber. The steward, taking care to pretend that he was not watching Benedict, moved to tidy the glasses they had used.

  Benedict turned to go. He was finished here, for the moment at any rate. Edward had voiced surprise at Benedict’s generosity in the keep and monies he would provide to Harcourt’s brother, but he had given his approval to the transfer of goods.

  It was as Benedict swung around to go out the far door that he noted the presence of two small, dark green slippers just visible beneath the edge of the scarlet drapery. The fact that the intruder was female seemed apparent and kept him from being overconcerned. Yet he grew very still, and a pensive frown creased his brow even as he saw a pale face surrounded by a cloud of auburn hair appear at the edge of the drape. A pair of golden eyes widened in horror as they met his own.

  The face was definitely that of a woman. And an extremely pretty one. Surprised, Benedict started toward her without thinking.

  The steward chose that moment to turn back to Benedict. He spoke with just the proper degree of deference, though it seemed obvious that he would prefer for Benedict to be on his way. “Is there something wrong, my lord?”

  Benedict halted, his gaze searching the female’s eyes, now filled with panic.

  “My lord?” The steward spoke again, more insistently.

  Her gaze darkened with pleading even as her hands came up to cover her pink lips. For a moment as he looked into those eyes Benedict felt as if he had fallen into a vat of liquid gold that swirled around him as he floated effortlessly in its warmth.

  Something, an urge he could not name, made him close his lips on the words that would expose her position. Instead he cast the mysterious female a warning glance. Her face disappeared behind the curtain again as he turned to the steward. “Nay, I was just leaving. I was wondering if you might tell me where my horse will have been stabled?” Benedict knew it was a poor excuse. Never would he allow the stallion to be stabled without knowing the exact conditions, but the steward was not aware of this.

  Benedict waited as the servant moved to join him at the door. He knew the woman could not escape from her hiding place until the steward left the chamber. Still, Benedict did not know why he would aid the unknown woman; he simply could not seem to do otherwise.

  The man nodded, saying, “As you will, my lord,” and led him from the room. Although he had a nearly overwhelming urge to do so, Benedict did not look back over his shoulder for fear of giving her away.

  Her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, Raine escaped from behind the curtain as soon as the men were gone. Why had she given in to the urge to look at Benedict Ainsworth one more time? She had convinced herself that he would be too occupied with King Edward’s leaving to heed her. She was shocked at her own lunacy. Even more confusing, why had the baron, a stranger, helped her? She could think of no ready answer and could only feel grateful that he had done so.

  Now more than ever she felt intrigued by the man named Benedict Ainsworth. Recalling the fathomless depths of his dark-lashed eyes, which seemed far too blue to be real, she felt just the slightest bit attracted to him, as well.

  Instantly Raine halted herself, feeling nothing but misgivings over such a thought. She was not interested in him or any other man in that way. She knew what she was looking for and why. Nothing else, no other consideration, must be allowed to interfere in her plans. To allow any other thought was to open herself to possible disaster. William’s welfare must come first and last with her. If there was a possibility that Benedict Ainsworth was the right man to protect William, then she must meet with him, speak with him.

  As she considered how best to try to come into contact with the man again, she felt a strange thrill ripple down her spine. There was no denying that he was the most fascinating man she had ever seen, not just because of his handsomely chiseled face or his obvious physical presence and vigor. The man exuded an air of quiet strength that drew her as a cricket is drawn to the scent of rain.

  Again she told herself she could not allow such a thing to sway her. That having been decided, Raine felt much easier in her interest in the man. She was doing this for William. With a sigh of resolution, she went directly to her assigned chamber. The very tiny room had no window and one large bed with threadbare velvet hangings that might once have been gold but had yellowed to an uninviting shade. It was not an attractive or even a comfortable room, with its well-worn stone floor and roughly made furnishings—a table and two hard benches pulled close to the narrow hearth, which smoked profusely each time it was lit.

  Raine could have been housed with some of the other ladies of the court, but she had not wished to be separated from her brother or Aida.

  They looked up the moment she opened the door. Taking a deep breath, Raine informed them, “Well, my loves, I have just seen our most promising prospect yet.”

  Predictably, Aida got to her feet and began to pace, wringing her hands. “Dear heavens, Lady Raine, are you sure that this is what you should do? ’Haps we should forget all of this talk of finding a husband and go home to Abbernathy Park, leave things as they are.”

  Raine felt herself stiffen. She above all people would like to go home and pretend that everything was well, that they would be fine. That option was not available to her, for Denley would certainly be there the moment she arrived.

  Someone had to see to the future, and she was the only one who could do so, no matter how difficult it might be. But they had been over all of this before. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Aida, please, let us not discuss it all again. I need you to help me now.”

  William, who had been reading a book, laid it gently on the table and fixed her with a thoughtful gaze. “Who is he, Raine? What is he like?”

  Being a newborn babe at the time, he had no memory of the terrible months after their mother’s death. Their father had been so deeply lost in his grief that Raine had been forced to act far beyond her eight years. But William did have some understanding of why she was so determined in this now. He had been at their father’s bedside the night he’d died, knew how serious he had been in his request for Raine to look after everything. None of them had ever expected the elder William to go when his son was so very young. Their father had been in the prime of his life, strong and seemingly invincible in Raine’s eyes. The illness that had taken his life had come on so rapidly that none of them could ever have been prepared for his death.

  And since that time Raine had not allowed herself to feel her own pain, had taken all her anguish and turned it into an unshakable determination to take care of William a
s her father wished. Her brother was not a robust boy, though he had a soundness of character and intellect that more than made up for it in her eyes. His physical vulnerability only made her all the more resolved to do what she must.

  Quickly Raine told them what had happened in the audience chamber.

  Now William seemed as concerned as Aida. “You hid behind a curtain and eavesdropped upon the king of England and this man? Raine, have you gone completely mad? What would have happened had you been caught? You could have been accused of spying or treason, or…”

  She went to him and laid a comforting hand upon his arm, her tone contrite. “I was not caught.” She suddenly realized how terrible it would have been for him if she had been arrested and accused of some wrongdoing. Who would have seen to William’s interests then?

  “But you could have been. And you say this man saw you? He might still decide to tell someone you had been there.” William’s green eyes revealed concern and a clear sense of his protectiveness toward her, giving her a hint of the fine man he would grow to be.

  Raine spoke with a conviction that came from some inner knowing she could not explain. “Ainsworth will tell no one.”

  Aida’s rejoinder was filled with fear. “How do you know this, Lady Raine? You just laid eyes upon the man.”

  Raine was unable to meet the maid’s searching gaze as she said, “He will say nothing.” That inner knowing seemed only to grow each time she considered the matter. Benedict Ainsworth would not betray her.

  Chapter Two

  Raine readied herself for the meal with even more care than she had shown on previous occasions since coming to court. She was determined to make herself known to Benedict Ainsworth, and prayed he would appear in the hall.

  That she must explain her presence behind the curtain in the audience chamber, she knew. Somehow she would think of something. Her real purpose, that of discovering whether or not Lord Ainsworth would be a suitable guardian for William, was foremost in her mind.