by Anne Herries
She reached the stable yard, making straight for the stall that housed her favourite gelding. The horse came to her at once as she opened the split door and called its name, snickering as she offered the apple she had saved for him from supper the previous night.
‘Good fellow,’ she said, patting its nose and rubbing her face against the warm soft hair of its neck. She fetched a bridle, slipping the reins over the noble head as it tossed as if to show agreement with this escapade. ‘You need the exercise as much as I do, don’t you, sweetheart?’
‘Not running away again, I hope?’
Deborah whirled round as she heard the mocking tones of the marquis’s voice. ‘Did you follow me?’ she demanded. ‘How did you know it was me?’
‘I was not certain until you spoke to the horse,’ Nicholas said, his eyes bright with challenge. ‘I saw someone leaving the house in a furtive manner and decided to investigate.’
‘I was not furtive! I merely wished to leave without being seen.’
Nicholas laughed. ‘Is there a difference? I apologize, mistress. I thought you might be a thief about to rob my host.’
‘As you see, you were wrong. You may go about your business, sir, and leave me to mine.’
‘But your business is also mine.’
Deborah’s heart jerked. What was he saying?
‘I do not know what you mean, sir.’
‘Do you not?’ His brows lifted. ‘Why, what should I mean but that I also wished to ride while it is early.’ He smiled oddly. ‘Could you not sleep, Deborah?’
‘I often ride early,’ she said, turning away. She was not going to admit that she had been unable to rest, knowing that he was sleeping in the room that had been Sarah’s and was close by her own.
‘But not always attired thus, I think?’ His wicked eyes went over her, bringing a flush to her cheeks. ‘You make a pretty youth, my lady—but I prefer you as a woman.’
Deborah could not look at him as she went to fetch her saddle, but Nicholas followed and took it from her.
‘You will allow me to help you?’
‘If you wish, though I have done it before.’
‘I do not doubt it,’ he replied, amused. ‘Tell me, lady, what more is there to know of you? I confess I am intrigued.’
Deborah raised her head, meeting his dark gaze in a spirit of defiance. ‘My father had me educated as though I were his son—and that included fencing lessons. I wore these clothes for my lessons and sometimes to ride with my father—if we wished to ride hard, as we sometimes did.’
‘Ah, that explains much,’ Nicholas said. ‘You are fierce in defence of your independence, Deborah. I have seldom met a woman with such spirit.’
Deborah blushed. ‘Perhaps you would wish me to be more maidenly, sir?’
‘I have no complaints.’ He met her searching gaze. ‘I merely seek to understand you. Will you allow me to accompany you on your ride—or do you wish to go alone?’
‘There is no reason why we should not go together.’
‘It is a pleasing pastime,’ he said. ‘I enjoyed our excursions when you were my guest, Mistress Stirling.’
Deborah almost retorted that she had been his prisoner, but she knew how it felt to truly be a prisoner now and realized that he had always treated her as his guest. Indeed, he had been a courteous host, doing all he could to ensure her comfort.
‘I—I found my visit to your home pleasant in many ways, sir.’
‘I am happy to hear it,’ he replied, a little smile quirking the corners of his mouth. ‘Come, let me help you to mount. It will take but a moment to saddle my horse.’
She allowed him to help her, sitting astride her horse as she watched him prepare his own. It was a mettlesome creature, but not as fine or as wild as Nero.
‘You may show me your father’s estate,’ Nicholas invited. ‘I saw very little as I rode here for it was in darkness.’
‘It is quite small compared to your own,’ she said. ‘We have tenant farmers, but my father’s land is broken into parcels scattered here and there. We do not have your vineyards or such pleasant surroundings. As you must have observed, we are close to the moors, which can seem inhospitable in winter.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I believe the winter is severe here in the North?’
‘Sometimes the roads are impassable and we spend days and weeks with no company. That is why…’ She hesitated and then continued, ‘I found your friends entertaining, my lord. I wanted them to think well of me.’
‘And why should they not?’ Nicholas asked. ‘You are a lovely, intelligent woman, Deborah. My friends had no cause to think ill of you.’
‘There are some that do. I have seen it in their eyes—in the way they look at me.’
Nicholas frowned. ‘Then they should think shame on themselves. You may hold your head high. You have naught to blush for, Deborah.’
She smiled but made no reply, merely allowing her horse to trot from the yard with Nicholas riding at her side.
Deborah enjoyed her ride that morning. She had found Nicholas a pleasant and entertaining companion. Somehow as they rode and talked she had realized the tension was easing out of her. She was no longer angry with him for abandoning her. It was the beginning of a new relationship. His smiles were sometimes mocking, sometimes almost tender. She suspected that he meant to court her—which must mean he still wanted her for his wife.
As the day progressed, Deborah became aware that there was an amicable rivalry between Nicholas and Henri. They both sought to engage her attention at every opportunity, fetching her wine and sweetmeats as they and her father sat together that evening in the parlour. Nicholas sang a song of love for her, and Henri told them a story about witches and wizards and King Arthur’s knights.
Deborah played a pretty piece on the virginals and Sir Edward accompanied her on his flute. He had not touched the instrument since his wife died, and Deborah was surprised and pleased to see how relaxed he seemed.
‘It is a pity we cannot have more evenings like this,’ he told her when she kissed him good night later. ‘Unfortunately, a request from His Majesty is tantamount to a command. We must leave by the day after tomorrow at the latest. However, the marquis has invited us to stay with him at Chalfont this winter, and our baggage is to be sent on to his ship so that we need not return here after our visit to Court.’
‘We are going to France?’ Deborah stared at him, her heart beating faster.
‘I have promised that we shall,’ Sir Edward said. ‘I would like to get to know de Vere better. He seems a well-educated, intelligent man, Deborah. I think it will be pleasant to escape the worst of the winter. I confess the cold eats into my bones these days, and France has a milder climate than our own, I believe.’
‘Chalfont is very beautiful,’ she said. ‘I am sure you will like it, Father.’
‘Yes, I am sure I shall.’ He smiled at her. ‘Sleep well, Deborah.’
She was thoughtful as she went to her chamber. What did that look mean in her father’s eyes? Was he beginning to plan another wedding?
A little smile touched her mouth as she allowed her maid to undress her. She was happier than she had been for many weeks.
The journey to London had been made more difficult by the rain of the past two days. In places there had been ruts so deep that it would have been almost impossible for a heavy travelling carriage to pass. Deborah had ridden with the others, preferring a little dampness to being jolted until she was black and blue.
They had stopped often at inns along the way so as not to tire her, and it was three days before they reached their lodgings in London. Nicholas had taken a large, impressive house near the river and everything was prepared for their arrival.
‘I thought it convenient for us to remain together,’ he told her. ‘I trust the arrangement is to your satisfaction, Deborah?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said and smiled. She had begun to feel more and more at ease with him these past few days. ‘It will be much
nicer this way, all of us together as we have been.’
‘You should find all that you need in your chamber, but should you need anything you have only to ask. My pleasure is to serve you, my lady.’
She blushed faintly and thanked him, feeling butterflies of joy spreading their wings deep inside her. When she went to her chamber, Deborah discovered several gowns had been laid out for her approval. She touched the fine material, recognizing some of it as that which she had chosen to be made up for her by the seamstress at Chalfont. Nicholas must have arranged for them to be brought over for her use.
She chose a pale blue silk for her audience with His Majesty that morning, dressing with care. The pearls Nicholas had given her were amongst her things and also a handsome brooch set with precious stones—but there was no sign of the betrothal ring he had given her.
Why had he provided so much, but not the ring?
The thought brought a frown to her brow, but she put it from her mind as she went downstairs to meet her father and Nicholas.
Nicholas was standing at the foot of the stairs, gazing up as she walked down dressed in her finery. His eyes were warm with approval, and he took her hand as she reached him, lifting it to kiss her fingertips.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said. ‘I have never seen you more lovely.’
‘I thank you, sir.’ She dimpled with pleasure. She could not doubt now that he was courting her and the knowledge made her heart sing for pure joy.
‘A chair awaits you, my lady. We should leave at once. His Majesty does not care to be kept waiting.’ His look was wicked. ‘I do hope I shall not find myself a guest in the Tower by this evening?’
Deborah laughed. ‘Oh, I do not think it, sir,’ she replied. ‘But we shall see.’
She smiled at him as he helped her into her chair, then he and her father walked beside her as she was carried through the streets towards the palace. She recalled thinking once how safe she would feel with Nicholas as her escort. Glancing at him now, she felt proud and pleased. This man was soon to be her husband. She was convinced of it and the thought made her happy.
Always when her father had taken her to the palace before, Deborah had been made aware that they were provincial nobodies and tolerated merely because of her father’s wealth. This morning, however, they were greeted by a deferential footman who conducted them to a luxuriously appointed chamber, which was clearly a part of His Majesty’s private apartments.
Deborah was aware of a fluttering sensation in her stomach. She had never spoken to the King before, and having heard of his capricious nature, was anxious to make the right impression.
‘Do not worry,’ Nicholas said. ‘He will be charmed with you, Deborah.’
She smiled shyly, but just as she was about to reply the door opened and King James entered the room. A little flustered because he had not been announced, she sank into a deep curtsy.
‘Stand up, stand up,’ James said. ‘Let me look at you, lassie. Aye, I see why the rogue snatched you. She’s a bonny lassie, Nicholas. You are to be congratulated on your taste. When is the wedding?’
Nicholas frowned. ‘It has not been decided, sir.’
‘Not decided?’ The King looked at him hard. ‘This will not do, sir. A marriage between you is imperative. Ye canna ruin a young woman’s reputation and not marry her. You will marry her—and I’ll give a banquet for ye here. ’Tis the least I can do.’ He turned his attention to Deborah, eyes bright with mischief. ‘There, lassie—is honour satisfied? You’ll not ask me to hang the rogue? He’ll make you a fine husband. A dozen ladies of the Court will testify to it, I’ve no doubt.’ He nodded to himself, obviously pleased with the outcome.
‘I—I do not want you to hang the marquis,’ Deborah said, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘But—but I do not wish for this marriage.’
‘Not wish for it?’ The King looked startled. ‘You have no choice, mistress. You must be wed—or retire to a nunnery. There is no alternative for a lady of your birth.’ He frowned. ‘Nay, you’ve no heart for the life of a nun, I’ll be bound. You are angry with the rogue—but he shall wed you. I am sure Sir Edward agrees with me.’
‘My wish is to see my daughter happy, Sire.’
‘Aye, weel, that’s as may be,’ grunted the King, looking somewhat disgruntled that his generosity had not been received as he’d expected. He looked at Nicholas again, his brows lowered. ‘You will oblige me, sir? I have a wish to see ye settled. No more ado. We’ll have the wedding tomorrow and be done with it.’
Nicholas inclined his head. ‘How can I refuse your most generous offer, Sire? When I said the wedding was not decided, I meant only the day and the hour. Tomorrow is as good as any day.’
Deborah shot a reproachful look at him. How could he agree to the King’s outrageous demand so easily? But of course—he had known this was going to happen! It had probably been agreed before he left London to come to her. No doubt His Majesty had sent him to her.
A surge of anger rose in her. Why did men always imagine they had the right to dictate these things? Was she to have no say in the matter?
‘This evening there is to be a masque,’ the King went on. ‘Ye shall all attend. It is our wish to see our friends make merry. Leave us now, Mistress Stirling—Sir Edward. You’ll stay, Nicholas. I would have private talk with ye.’
‘As you wish, Sire.’ Nicholas turned to Deborah. ‘Go with your father, my lady. I shall see you later.’
Deborah gave him a speaking look. Oh, but she would have much to say to him when they were alone! For now she could only curtsy to His Majesty and accompany her father from the room.
Sir Edward looked at her anxiously as they left the palace. ‘You did not mean what you said just now, daughter? I believed you were happy to wed de Vere. You had already given him your promise, had you not?’
‘In France—yes,’ she replied. She stared at her father in frustration. ‘But that was before… I do not wish to be married because King James commands it.’
‘Is that all?’ Sir Edward smiled. ‘I think de Vere was not best pleased by His Majesty’s interference in the matter—but the intention was always there. He spoke to me on the morning after his arrival at our home.’
‘But not to me,’ Deborah said, though her voice was so muffled that it did not reach her father who was summoning a chair for her. ‘Oh, why did he not tell me?’
She was torn between vexation and disappointment. Only a few hours ago she had been utterly convinced that Nicholas loved her. Now she was uncertain again. Was he marrying her because he truly wanted her—or because honour demanded that he do so?
Chapter Sixteen
Deborah stared in surprise as she entered the house and saw trunks being carried through the hall. What was going on?
‘I thought our larger trunks were being taken straight to the ship?’ she said, turning to her father.
‘These are not yours, Mistress Stirling.’ A young footman approached Deborah and bowed his head to her. ‘Forgive me for interrupting, but perhaps you were not expecting Mistress Trevern?’
Deborah was surprised. ‘Mistress Trevern! The marquis’s cousin is here?’
‘She arrived not twenty minutes ago,’ the footman replied. ‘I believe she has been made comfortable.’
‘What’s this?’ Sir Edward asked. ‘The marquis’s cousin? You knew nothing of this, Deborah?’ He frowned as she shook her head. ‘How unfortunate that no one was here to receive her. You must go to her at once, my dear. Make certain she has been looked after properly and has all she needs.’
Deborah had been thinking the same. Although she knew that Marie disliked her, she was in some sense the hostess here while Nicholas was absent.
‘I shall go up to her at once.’ She smiled at the footman as she passed him. ‘Thank you for telling me.’
The door to the guest chamber Marie had been given was open, and Deborah could hear her sharp voice complaining loudly as she approached.
‘No! Not ther
e, you clumsy dolt. I’ll have you thrashed if you…’ Marie broke off mid-sentence as she turned and saw Deborah in the doorway. ‘So—I thought I should find you here.’ Her wrathful eyes fell on the footman who had deposited her trunk. ‘Very well, that will do. You may go and return in a few minutes.’ She closed the door with a snap after him.
‘I came to make sure you are comfortable here—and that you have all you need,’ Deborah said. ‘Should you wish for anything you have only to ask, as I am sure you know.’
Marie’s eyes narrowed to jealous slits. ‘What makes you mistress here? I understood this was my cousin’s house.’
‘Yes, the marquis has leased it for a time and was good enough to offer my father and I his hospitality so that we might all stay together—but as we are soon to be married, I felt it my duty to make certain you had not been neglected.’
‘So—he is still determined to marry you,’ Marie muttered, her mouth thin with disapproval. She had apparently lost none of her hostility towards Deborah. ‘I imagined he would have had the sense to end the affair after you ran away with his enemy and caused him so much trouble to fetch you back.’
‘I did not run away.’ Deborah looked at her proudly. ‘I was taken without my consent. I believed I had no choice but to do as they wished.’
Marie glared at her, barely able to contain her hatred. ‘That is not my understanding of the affair. I suppose you have convinced my cousin of your innocence. Men are such fools where they love. Well, it is naught to me. If Nicholas believes himself bound to wed you, he must do so and repine at leisure. I did not come here to dance at your wedding.’
‘Does the marquis expect you?’ Deborah asked. ‘He made no mention of your visit.’
‘I have Nicholas’s assurance that I am always welcome in his house,’ Marie said. ‘When he sent for your things, I had them packed and then, a day or so later, decided to follow. I have something I wish to discuss privately with him.’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘I was told he was with you at the palace—has he not returned?’
