Revealing A Marchioness's Heart (The Chronicles of Loyalty)

by Jessie Bennett

  Nora was rich, richer than even the king itself, it was rumored. Her family had always been rich, but when her father had married his first wife, it commanded control of most of Calais, and a fortune that could rival any throne in Europe. She was the daughter of his third wife, and his only living heir. When her father died, Nora inherited everything that she had grown up with and more. Nevertheless, there were family members, uncles and cousins on both sides who felt that the title should have reverted to them, rather than a daughter that he conceived during his senior years. In addition, although Nora was the rightful blood heir, there were other reasons why family members didn’t want her as the face of their line. It was fire that had killed her mother and left her scarred, vicious burns on her neck and up a little past her chin on her left side. She always wore her hair down, high neck collars and scarves, and it was almost hidden. Almost. Except whenever she turned, or saw a reflective surface and then she was reminded that she was a monster. If the scandal and controversy of her family didn’t keep the men away from her, the scars would, Nora was sure of it. Her dowry was enough to buy the entire country, but it wasn’t enough to make men go blind and deaf.

  Still, the king was kind to her, perhaps because she was rich or perhaps because she was important, or maybe, just maybe, because he remembered her as a child at court without the scars. Either way, her husband search was high on his priority list, so bringing her to court to find a match was now mandatory, since her father was a year in his grave. Nora hadn’t been to court since the fire, and she wasn’t eager to see the faces that remembered whatever had been of her beauty.

  The worst thing about the scars was that Nora felt like she no hope; no love, and those things were crippling.

  The carriage lurched to a stop and Nora realized that she must have fallen asleep. They were at the entrance to the palace.

  “The Marchioness du Andres,” she heard someone announce and she straightened her skirts, yawning as the door was opened. It had taken her awhile to get used to that title. Whenever she heard it, she thought of her mother, of people bowing to her. She was painfully aware that there was no Marques to escort her; her father dead and no husband to take her arm.

  “I’ll take it from here,” came a voice, and Nora assumed that it was the footman, or whoever was sent to escort her to the king. He wouldn’t come himself, not for just a marchioness, even a rich one. Her understanding of English was not perfect, having spent her whole life in French-occupied Calais. At best, her English was bumbling, and it was one of the things she dreaded about coming to an English court. The door opened and she blinked in the bright sunlight. It was nearly noontime, the sun beating down heavily.

  She looked at the ground to clear her vision and when she looked back up, she found herself staring at the most handsome face she had seen in her life.

  “My Lady,” said the handsome face, bowing, with a grin on it. He spoke French to her, and his accent was perfect, to her surprise. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark moustache and a sparkle about him, he was young, tall and lean. She nearly swooned at his smile. “Welcome to the palace.”

  She had to clear her throat twice to speak without squeaking. “And you are?” she asked, trying to sound dignified. Nora sometimes felt anything but dignified. The rest of the ladies put themselves together so easily and she was left feeling like a pig in mud.

  He stuck out his hand to help her out. “My name is Ricardo. I am one of the King’s Guards who has the honor of escorting you during your stay here.”

  “I have my own guards,” she said, indicating the flank around the carriage. “But how kind of the king.”

  “The way I understand it, milady,” his eyes sparkled as he held out his arm for her. “You are a jewel to the king and he’d like to keep you nice and shiny. Therefore, that’s why we are here. My associate, Peter,” he indicated a tall beast of a man who Nora thought could make anyone feel safe. “Is also assigned to you. And there’s one other, but he’s wandered off for the moment.”

  “Ah,” Nora was trying to be confident and witty, but she had never seen a man so handsome in her whole life. “Wonderful,” she replied. He was looking at her with such intensity that she blushed, looking away. Just because she found him handsome didn’t mean he was being anything but kind to her. She shook her head to clear it. “Are we headed inside?”

  “Indeed,” he answered. “Unless Milady needs anything? I was going to escort you to your rooms. The other guard is there already, making sure they are secure.”

  He was still holding her arm, sending electric pulses up and down it. Did all the guards do this, or was this one just special? “A chance to freshen up before court would be lovely,” she replied, and he nodded. As they walked, people bowed to her, knowing this scarred marchioness could buy their king. However, even in their bowing, she caught them sneaking glances and whispering to each other. With her free hand, she pulled her long locks closer against her neck.

  “Your necklace is lovely,” Ricardo said as they walked. “Is that from Calais?”

  She looked down at the green and blue jewel she was wearing, realizing that it matched the color of his guard jacket. “Uh, no. It’s from my mother; she brought it from her hometown in Spain.”

  “Ah, I thought that you might have Spanish blood in you,” Ricardo said as they reached what would be her rooms for the duration of their stay.

  “You did?” she said, surprised. She resembled her father directly in his paleness and dark hair. Had she not been born of her mother, people might wonder if they were related at all.

  “Yes, the Spanish women tend to be the most beautiful,” Ricardo said with a wink, leaving her mouth open in shock. It was with the same open-mouthed shock that she saw the man inspecting her rooms.

  Something flashed in Alexander’s eyes that silenced her and he turned to Ricardo. “I’ll take it from here, Ricardo,” he said in English. “Report to the commander to tell him that the marchioness has arrived safely.”

  “Aye aye,” Ricardo replied, noticing nothing amiss and smiling one last time at Nora. “I’ll see you soon,” he said in a way that made her feel like he truly wanted to see her soon.

  Once they were alone in the room save for a maid straightening the bedcovers, Nora finally found her voice. “My Lord?” she asked in shock.

  Something moved behind his eyes and he tilted his head with a sigh. “No one has called me that for at least five years, Nora.” His French sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in a while.

  “You haven’t returned to your lands in five years for anyone to say that to you,” she replied, feeling her legs grow faint. She sank into a chair, trying to process why exactly the Marques du Battenberg was wearing a guard’s uniform and checking her room, posing as security.

  Alexander and Mary had had the neighboring lands to Nora’s, and she had grown up as a child in their wonderful gardens. They were English, but their use of French grew the more time they spent in Calais. The two had been young, in love and childless, so Nora had become their substitute daughter. Her last clear memory of Alexander was when she was ten and had spent the day in their house, playing with one of their dogs. She had said goodnight to him and Mary, and walked back to her house, thinking about how much fun she had. That night, something terrible had happened that was never clarified. Mary had died, she knew that much, and Alexander was never seen again. His lands were empty, abandoned. Her father sent his own servants to tend them for many years, and Nora did the same, but there was nowhere to foreword the profits. Alexander seemed to have vanished, hidden in grief, and he was presumed dead.

  There was no heir, no new marques to pick up the pieces of the life he had left behind. Now, Nora saw that it was because he was not dead at all, but standing in front of her, reincarnated. “How…” she fumbled for words. “How are you allowed to be this?”

  “Anyone can be a guard, Nora, if they are good enough,” he said, still rooted to the spot. The ten-year old he left had grown into a fiery youn
g woman, but her eyes were still the same. He took a step toward her, the same way one might approach a startled deer. He held out his hand, palm up, as he took a step closer. “I am sorry for your father’s passing…and your mother’s,” he said, and she turned her head to look at him. In doing so, he got full view of the scars, and it broke his heart.

  He had heard the reports that the men had come through his lands to get to hers. Riddled with grief, he did nothing but pile it on top of the pain he already carried. Now that he saw her in the light, it was anger that he felt at himself. He should have gone back when she’d lost her mother, when she’d lost her father. He should have returned at least to pay his respects, but his own lands held too many memories. He had been selfish and now here she stood in front of him, alone.

  “Why didn’t you come back?” she asked, as if reading his mind. Tears seemed to be brimming in her eyes, although she bit her lip to stop them from falling. “If you knew?”

  “I…” he opened his mouth, but no answer came. Instead, he shook his head. It was the first time in years he felt truly stone cold sober, and it ached. “I had duties here.”

  “Guarding the nobles instead of being among them,” she replied. “What about your duties to your lands?”

  “That man died, Nora,” he said and met her eyes, trying to make her understand. “He died and he isn’t coming back. Do you understand me?”

  “Who knows?” she asked. “Who knows here at the palace? Surely some recognize you?”

  “Yes,” he was mere inches from her. “The king, obviously, and the queen. There are a few who come in and out of court from my day, but I mostly try to avoid them. My commander is…aware of my situation, and when nobles I knew come through, I am often sent elsewhere.”

  “Until today,” she said, and he winced.

  “Until today,” he answered, still holding her gaze. He thought that seeing her would be heart wrenching, too much to bear. He had barely learned how to breathe again after his wife; he didn’t think the child they half raised would be soothing to see. Now that her slight body stood in front of him, he felt a brief light in his soul. It was just for a moment, then it flickered and it was gone, but it had been there. “Are you alright, Nora?” he asked, alarmed as the tears spilled over her rosy cheeks.

  “No!” she cried, without any dignity. “Are you?”

  “No,” the answer tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. It was the first time he had answered that question honestly since Mary had left his side. He stumbled forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

  Nora shuddered with sobs; the grief of her father’s death catching up with her as well as the shock of finding the last person she considered family right in front of her. “Fine, then we can be not alright together,” she managed and he nodded into her hair. It took a few minutes to regain her composure, but when she finally was able to speak without her voice wavering, she pulled away. “Your friend is handsome,” she managed at last, sniffling, and Alexander laughed despite himself.

  “You must be talking about Ricardo. There isn’t a woman alive who cannot look at him. It’s quite annoying actually.”

  “So he’s…that’s his trick then,” Nora asked and he looked at her sharply.

  “Keep a clear head, Nora,” he said. “Ricardo is a guard and you’re here to find a prince.”

  “A prince?” she laughed. “A prince? I’ll be lucky if I get a baron to look at me.”

  “A prince will be lucky to have you,” he said, giving her a look meant to silence her. He would not tolerate her putting herself down, even now. It was a fatherly instinct that he had never known he had. He thought he wasn’t meant for that life, that Nora, a part of his old life, was gone. Here she was in the flesh and he was surprised that it didn’t make him want to pitch himself out a window. Even the way she talked reminded him of Mary. He hadn’t realized that they had so much influence on her upbringing until now.

  “Are you going to stay with me?” she asked, looking around. The room was huge, and empty. He picked up a note of fear in her voice.

  “Have the attacks on your life been so frequent, Nora?”

  She snorted in irony. “There isn’t a noble alive who thinks I should have this title,” she replied. “It’s been worse in the past few months. I worry about whoever I marry…that they shouldn’t have an ulterior motive.”

  “That’s our job,” Alexander replied. “To find out their history, their back story, and make sure that no one gets within spitting distance of you unless we say so. You are safe with us, Nora, so there is nothing to fear.”

  “All the same,” she said, sitting again. “You’ll stay with me?”

  “I won’t leave your side for a minute,” he promised, and she remembered the last time he’d promised that. She had been six and they were swimming in the pond behind his house. At least, she was learning to swim. He had meant it then, and she knew that he meant it now.

  “Alright,” she nodded, feeling better than she had in a long while. Alexander had returned to her, and she was at the palace, away from the smell of burning that constantly invaded her dreams. Perhaps there was hope after all, at least for the short term.

  3

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Her Grace, the Marchioness du Andres,” came the cry. To Nora’s relief, the dining hall was busy enough that no one really turned to see the announcement of yet another noble into the feast. She had attracted too much attention of late, with her face and her arrival, and she would have been happy to eat in her rooms. However, the King had decided that it was a feast day, for no apparent reason, and so she had to attend, as was polite. Besides, she would never have a match made for her if she just stayed in her rooms all day. Despite the large crowd, she felt safe, with Peter on one side of her and Ricardo on the other. Alexander didn’t attend court gatherings, for obvious reasons to her.

  “I’m going to sit, just there,” she said to her guards. “If that’s acceptable.”

  “I’m going to take a walk and look around for concealed weapons.” Peter clearly took his duties as a guard very seriously and stalked off, looking for anything that could harm his charge. It left her alone with Ricardo to watch the swirling skirts of the many dancers.

  “Can you dance?” she asked him bravely. She didn’t want to plunge into the English speaking crowd when the ease of French was by her side.

  He smiled, his arms crossed. He was always at ease, always calm, as if he belonged anywhere that he stood. “Yes,” he replied immodestly. “I’ve found that I’m quite good at it. You just have to let the music flow through you.”

  “I agree,” she replied. “When I dance, I forget everything about where I am. It’s like magic.”

  “It can be magic, but I believe they call it music,” he answered with a devilish smile. “Poor Alexander, missing out on all this fun.”

  “Where will he be?” Nora asked, wondering whether he would be guarding the entrance to her rooms.

  “Well, he’s off duty tonight, so probably seeing what’s at the bottom of a whisky bottle,” Ricardo answered with a shrug. “Alexander is predictable. I can always find him in the same three places.”

  “I don’t think he’s as predictable as you think,” Nora said quietly, more to herself. However, that made Ricardo grin and suddenly grab her arms.

  “I’m not predictable either,” he said, and with a shriek he pulled her onto the dance floor. It was just for a song, a rousing waltz. He was in dress guard uniform, and he was high ranking in his unit, so it wasn’t as scandalous as Nora felt it was. Still, her cheeks burned and she laughed as soon as the song ended, and he pulled back to bow to her.

  There were hundreds of beautiful ladies swirling by, and she took note of the perfection in each one of them. Ricardo’s smile seemed only for her as he bowed. She had never, even before the fire, had a man look at her that way.

  “You are a wonderful dancer, milady,” he said, and she blushed.

&nbs
p; “You’re pretty good too,” she giggled, until Peter came up behind him to drag him away disapprovingly.

  Nora knew that she should be paying attention to all the lovely men around her, but not one of them smiled at her that night like Ricardo did. When she finally left the feast and was tucking herself into bed, safe in the darkness, she remembered his smile, his bow to her, the way his eyes flickered back upward. He was so kind, and so lovely, and she had never met anyone like him before. She knew that she shouldn’t be thinking of him; that he wasn’t thinking of her, but still her mind’s eye saw that sparkle in his eyes and it made her shiver with delight. If there was husband potential out there like him, even a fraction of him, then she might actually be happy. Noble marriages weren’t made for love, but she could hope for happiness at least.

  She heard a noise just as she was drifting off, and it was his name that she called out. “Ricardo?” she asked, sitting up and searching the darkness.

  “And why would it be Ricardo?” came the heavy distinctive voice she had once known so well. Her eyes adjusted enough to see his stocky figure standing at the end of her bed.

  “Alexander,” she said, sitting. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

  For a moment, she was worried that there had been another attack on her life. Then he stepped closer, the moonlight caught the bottle in his hand and she realized that this wasn’t a duty visit. His figure practically swayed in the darkness and she realized he was dead drunk, as Ricardo had predicted.

  “How was the feast?” he asked and sat heavily on the foot of her bed. He offered her the bottle, but she shook her head.