A Choice of Crowns

by Barb Hendee

  Lord Jean might not have noticed my existence had I been given to the kitchen women and raised as a servant. But Lady Giselle had only given birth to sons, and she had come to love me. She insisted I be raised as her ward, calling me her “niece” in private.

  Again, Lord Jean protested, seeing me as the bastard child of a lady’s maid, certainly not worthy of the title of ward in the house of de Marco. But again, Giselle won. I grew up as her companion, not exactly a niece, but neither was I a servant. I had duties for her, but I ate with the family and wore the fine clothing of a noble.

  All was well until I turned fifteen, and the house guards began watching me enter a room. Of course they did not dare speak to me, but this was a forerunning of things to come. I was allowed to join dinners when we had guests, but then, during a visit from the Larues, the second son of Lord Alex Larue stared at me over the table. A week later, he asked Lord Jean for my hand in marriage—with no questions regarding my birth. Lord Jean thought it an astonishing offer and wanted to accept, but Lady Giselle pleaded that at fifteen, I was too young.

  After that, she stopped including me at dinner when we had guests.

  She kept me to herself, and I loved our quiet time together. She promised she would keep me safe.

  And now…three years later, I was in a corridor, alone with a strange nobleman who continued demanding answers.

  “Who was your father?” Royce repeated.

  No matter that Giselle called me her niece in private, I would never expose her beloved brother as a seducer of women or a man who abandoned unwanted children.

  So I whispered, “I do not know.”

  Before I knew what was happening, he grasped my chin and forced me to look up at him. Though his grip did not hurt, he allowed me to feel some of the strength in his hand. His eyes were a shade of light brown.

  “What do you mean you don’t know? If you’re the de Marcos’ ward, how is that possible?” He didn’t sound angry, only confused. “Who was your mother?”

  Wanting him to let me go, I tried to meet his gaze and answered, “Lady Giselle’s maid.”

  He let go and stepped back.

  I hadn’t told him the whole truth, but enough to give him an understanding. No matter what Giselle called me, I was the illegitimate child of a servant.

  I was no one, not worth his attention.

  Whirling, I hurried for the west stairwell.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Lady Giselle sent word, informing me I would be expected at breakfast, but I was not concerned. By now, Royce had told his father of my low status, and they would not notice me. Besides, the men would be focused on the land deal, not upon any women at the table.

  I wore my hair down and donned a muslin dress of sky blue.

  My own private room was near to Lady Giselle’s apartments, and as I reached her door, I found it open, suggesting she had already gone down without my help in dressing for the day.

  “My lady?” I asked from the doorway.

  Silence told me she was not there.

  Quickly, I made my way to the stairwell and descended to the main floor. Upon arriving at the great hall, I found everyone from last night had already gathered—with the exception of Lucas and Geoffrey. Would they not be attending? Perhaps they were not necessary for the business dealings this morning.

  Then why had I been asked?

  Royce stood apart with his arms crossed, and he appeared to be watching the archway as I entered. At the sight of me, he went still and gave me the same fixed stare from last night. He took in my long silver-blond hair and light blue gown. Only this morning, I was beginning to recognize the expression on his face; it looked like hunger.

  “She’s here,” he said. “We can begin.”

  Two things about these statements puzzled me. First, was he the one who’d requested my presence this morning? Why? And second…breakfast had not even been served yet. Did he wish to conduct the business dealing before eating?

  Lord Jean seemed equally nonplussed, but he gestured to the table. “By all means.”

  I could see that he did not care when or how these dealings took place, so long as he acquired the land.

  Walking over, I greeted my lady and sat beside her. Lord Trey and Royce sat across from us, and Lord Jean took his place at the head.

  As of yet, we’d not even been served tea.

  Lord Jean began immediately. “I’m willing to pay two thousand in silver for the land. That’s more than what it’s worth and a fair offer.”

  Royce studied him with a level gaze. “I’m willing to take fifteen hundred.” Then he motioned to me with his head. “But I want the girl.”

  I went cold.

  Lord Trey turned to his son in open surprise.

  Lord Jean frowned.

  Lady Giselle stiffened, and she spoke first. “Sir,” she said to Royce. “I don’t understand. You cannot be asking for Kara’s hand as you already have a wife. You were married eight years ago, and to the best of my knowledge, the lady Lorraine still lives.”

  Royce turned his cold eyes upon her. “You need not remind me of my marital status.”

  Lord Jean’s frown deepened. “Then what are you asking?”

  Royce leaned back in his chair. “I want the girl.”

  At this, all polite pretense vanished from my lady’s voice. “As what? Your mistress? You’ll set her up in some cottage near your manor until you grow tired of her? I think not!”

  They all spoke as if I weren’t there.

  Lord Trey raised one hand to her and addressed his son. “This girl? You’re certain?”

  Royce nodded, but the brief exchange only increased the confusion in Lord Jean’s expression.

  Lord Trey sighed. “What my son suggests is not so shocking as it first sounds. We are more…modern at the Capello estate. Your ward would hold a position of honor, and she would reside with us, in her own apartments, at the manor. She would have a place in the family.”

  “As his mistress?” my lady demanded. “No.”

  “Giselle!” Lord Jean barked, as if trying to take control of the conversation.

  Royce shrugged. “The girl is of no birth. She cannot remain your ward forever, and this is a good offer.”

  I remained frozen, but beside me, I could hear my lady’s quick breaths.

  “Kara is the daughter of my brother,” she said slowly. “She is my blood.”

  All three men were taken aback, but I knew Lord Jean’s response was one of embarrassment. This truth had never been spoken outside her rooms.

  For just an instant, Royce’s face flickered, and then he shook his head. “It is of no matter. She is of no name and no house.”

  My lady’s hand clenched into a fist, but again, Lord Jean broke in, this time speaking directly to Lord Trey. “My lord…you can see the attachment my wife has for the girl. Surely, some other arrangement can be made in exchange for the land. I would offer twenty-five hundred sliver pieces.”

  Royce leaned forward in his chair, addressing Lord Jean. “There will be no further bargaining here. I will take fifteen hundred in silver for the land. But if you don’t agree to my terms, I won’t sell to you. And since I find myself in need of funds, I will sell the land to someone else.” He paused to let the effect of his threat sink in. Then he repeated slowly, “I want the girl.”

  A long moment of silence followed, and then Lord Jean looked to Lady Giselle. “Get her packed.”

  My lady shot to her feet. “No!” Reaching out, she took my hand and pulled me up. “We will be in my apartments until these gentlemen leave.”

  Needing no urging from her, I gripped her hand and we fled from the hall.

  * * * *

  Once she and I were alone in her apartments, her anger began to fade and I could see fear in her eyes.

  The sight o
f this was more terrifying than anything that had transpired in the past moments.

  “Don’t let them take me,” I said.

  But before she could answer, the door to her apartments opened, and Lord Jean stood on the other side with two of our house guards behind him. Upon seeing the guards, Giselle went pale.

  As Lord Jean stepped inside the room, she shouted at him. “This is your fault! You were the one who insisted she be at the table last night to create a distraction and put them off their game.”

  His expression was difficult to read. I’d never once heard her speak to him in any other tone than polite deference. He appeared both angry and uncomfortable.

  “They have promised me she’ll be treated well,” he said.

  “Promised?” she cried. “What good is that? You know nothing of Royce Capello. For all you know, he keeps a riding crop under his bed.”

  Lord Jean took a step back. “Don’t be vulgar.”

  “Vulgar? Me? You stand there and say that when you are giving our girl away to be some nobleman’s whore!”

  His discomfort increased, but so did his anger. “She is not our girl.”

  I stood pressed against a wall, and she suddenly went slack in despair. “Please, my lord. Don’t do this. Don’t take her from me. I could not bear it.”

  At this, he wavered. I could see it, and hope rose inside me. He loved her. He cared for her feelings.

  But then, his expression hardened again. “I have no choice. I’ve paid the fifteen hundred, and the deed will be sent. A maid is packing Kara’s things now, and the Capellos are making ready to leave.” Striding over, he gripped my upper arm but spoke only to her. “You will remain here until they are gone. I’ll leave men to watch over you.”

  With that, he dragged me forward. I struggled to pull away, but I don’t think he noticed.

  When we reached the door, my lady spoke from behind us.

  “I will never forgive you for this, Jean. Do you understand what that means? I won’t forgive you.”

  It was his turn to go pale, and again, he wavered.

  Then he dragged me out the door.

  * * * *

  Down in the courtyard, I saw my trunk being lifted into the back of a wagon. A maid from the house came to me and wrapped a cloak around my shoulders, but I was too numb to respond or thank her.

  I could not believe what was happening.

  Lord Trey’s and Royce’s horses were saddled, and their six guards were making ready to leave. One of our guards led a white mare from the stables…with a sidesaddle.

  The sight of this made me fear I would faint.

  At the look on my face, Royce frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Lord Jean’s brows knitted and then smoothed. “Oh, Kara has never been on… She’s never ridden a horse.”

  Royce blinked twice. “How is that possible?”

  Shifting his weight between his feet, Lord Jean answered. “Because she has never been off the manor grounds. She’s rarely been outside the house. You must understand that my lady has kept her…sheltered.”

  Silence followed, and even in my frightened state, I sensed there was a good deal taking place beneath this conversation. I simply did not know what.

  “You could have her ride in the wagon beside your driver?” Lord Jean suggested.

  “No,” Royce answered. “I will lead her horse.”

  Turning, he gripped my waist and lifted me as if I weighed nothing, setting me into the saddle. Then he mounted his own horse and drew up beside me, lifting the reins over my mount’s head and gripping them in his left hand.

  As opposed to reassuring me, this act only made me feel more trapped.

  I cast a pleading look at Lord Jean, but he turned away. My horse lurched forward, and I gripped her mane. Within moments, I found myself outside the gates of our manor for the first time in my life, and in the company of strangers.

  I was not even allowed to tell Lady Giselle good-bye.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Barb Hendee is the New York Times bestselling author of The Mist-Torn Witches series. She is the co-author (with husband J.C.) of the Noble Dead Saga. She holds a master’s degree in composition/rhetoric from the University of Idaho and currently teaches writing for Umpqua Community College. She and J.C. live in a quirky two-level townhouse just south of Portland, Oregon. Barb Hendee can be reached at www.barbhendee.org, or www.twitter.com/barbhendeeorg, or www.facebook.com/BarbHendee.org.