Lady Trent

by GinaRJ

  “Hum.” He massaged his chin between the tip of thumb and finger. “Me first?”

  “…and it will be done.”

  “You are sure of this.”

  “I would stake my life on it.”

  ”Then it is done,” he announced, dropping his hand. “I had started to wonder if I would be forced to retaliate.” He folded his hands together atop the table. “I have messages for Lord Harvard and General Hagar concerning troops from Harvard Plains.” He referred to the place where nobles were known to send their men to learn and practice methods of warfare. “Would you deliver them in passing?”

  “They are safe with me. You know it.”

  “Of course.”

  Duke Norton yet again reached into a pocket and removed a document of some sort. Marcus unfolded it, viewing its contents. It was a deed to a parcel of land. He studied it. He studied it closely, closer than he normally would before the very eyes of any noble. Its description birthed some questions which he verbalized after having thought on them for a time.

  “Your land extends westward toward Westerly,” he acknowledged.

  “Westerly,” the duke repeated as if absolutely disgusted. “I have long requested it from the emperor. He refuses to grant it. There is but two hundred or so acres that separate my land from the despicable little place.”

  “The land that separates it…doesn’t it belong to Duke Berlin.”

  “The nuisance,” he criticized. “The man owns too much as it is, and also stations guards at every angle which I find to be very intimidating.”

  “You are not alone. It seems to have become a ritual amongst the nobles…stationing guards along their boundaries: A symbol of distrust, more-or-less.”

  “Yes, well, the honorable Duke Berlin has also requested Westerly from the emperor.” He paused a moment before saying, “You show interest in the land, or is it Westerly?”

  “Jacob’s new bride is familiar with the town.”

  “I regret not being there for the wedding. Then again, I don’t recall having received an invitation.”

  “It seems the transferal of messages has become endangered. I am starting to question a choice few of the heralds and messengers.”

  “Which reminds me of Patrick.”

  “Patrick?”

  “Patrick of Lawrence…I suppose you know he is detained.”

  “I hadn’t heard so, no.” The news was very disappointing. Patrick was a spy for him…and few were aware. He wondered how he’d gotten himself arrested and looked forward to a time when he could see to it he was freed.

  “Why was he detained, and where? Who detained him?”

  “The emperor, I had heard.”

  “For what cause?” He asked a second time.

  “That I don’t know. I assumed you had heard yourself. I was going to ask you.”

  “I imagine I have missed the emperor’s message. I have not gone into Sainte Louise in a long while. It may be time I do so.”

  “Be careful there. I hear several men entered the city not so far back and went into homes simply murdering people.”

  “That cannot be true.” One thing he appreciated about Duke Norton, he always had valuable information to pass along, some fact, some fiction. Some of the times it was news he figured he should have already caught wind of or discovered. Then again, he was always moving about from place to place and city to city. Some news was bound to slip past him.

  “My source says it is.”

  This concerned him, particularly because Sainte Louise was the city he most considered home. It lied outside the walls of Castle Goth and he had friends there.

  He suddenly stood. “I may cut my visit even shorter if there is nothing else you have for me, or any reason to linger.”

  “Only the letters to deliver in passing.” They walked along, side by side. Marcus was in his own little world when the duke said, “It would be a shame to see this plot succeed against Jacob. Especially now. I hear he has become a very happy man, and lucky; that his new wife is a fine woman, very fine to look upon. Not much longer he will be a father again. Sons, maybe.”

  He imagined it and said nothing at all. Then he considered a very ironic thought. The duke was not aware, but the very bride he’d just boasted about had been a citizen of the very town he openly criticized. But only a short time did he entertain the thought. He began to slowly fold together the deed in his hand, thinking for sure he would visit Duke Berlin as soon as he left there.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Rachel fast became exhausted writing letters in response to those of other noble ladies. She received many invitations, and sadly turned them all down. She and Jacob were not prepared for a visit abroad…not just yet. She explained this as kindly as she possibly could.

  Just when she thought she was down to the last of these letters, Percival would come in with an “I am sorry” sort of expression upon his face and hand her even more. She spent a great deal of time reading these messages, feeling honored by the contents of them, and then dreading to respond—not only because it often meant turning down an invitation but that it was time consuming as well.

  “This, milady, is why Lord Trent has others write for him,” said Zaria. “Perhaps you should consider doing the same. There are scribes. He would assign you one or even two upon request. However many you desire. This is too much time it’s taking. When was the last time you even enjoyed the gardens?”

  She made a valid point. Rachel took this advice to heart. Where once upon a time she could not comprehend someone having another write their letters for them, she now understood completely. Maybe Zaria was right. Maybe she would get someone else to write them—one of the scribes, perhaps, or a secretary. But she had yet to meet any one of these so-called scribes, as if they were secluded away in some secret wing of the palace. Quite possible, she presumed, seeing as to how she had yet to see it all, and some areas were strictly off limits. But even with a scribe…who could one trust to write each and every word exactly as spoken, without either adding to or taking away from it? Then again, she was well able to read over these letters prior to the transfer of them.

  Zaria, yes, she could trust. Tilly, yes. But these maidens were busy enough as it was tending to her and the chamber and duties outside of it. As for Roselyn, well, she was just another story altogether. Rachel had begun to dislike her almost as much as Holly.

  Jacob’s secretary, Darius, was a likable man. It was he who handed messages over to Percival to deliver to her in his stead. But he on occasion made an appearance of his own as he delivered package after package containing gifts of all sorts…mostly jewelry, some of which according to the messages attached had been passed down from generation to generation.

  “Your necklace,” Jacob one day noticed, “I do not recall it.”

  “A gift from Lady Steepleton,” she explained, raising a hand to toy with its golden dove-shaped pendent.

  She’d been pleased to have him sweep her away from the palace and onto the sandy ocean’s shore. But the air between them had made an unusual shift. There was this tension that although harmless seemed quite dangerous at the same time. She despised it and was sure he did as well. But what could one say about it or do if they hadn’t a definite understanding of it to begin with?

  Now they fell once more into a deep, unsatisfying silence; lost in their own private meditations. Hand in hand, they strolled along the shore, barely even hearing the roar of the waves, the sound of them crashing into and slapping against the boulders and rocky cliffs.

  “I imagine myself at fault for this silence,” he came to say.

  She glanced over at his profile. “How so?” She asked, curious as to what he would have to say on the matter. She had tired of relying upon her predictions alone. But opposed to responding in regards to it, he changed the subject.

  “There has been a sudden request for my presence in Arlington. I had considered taking you along. It’s a beautiful city, and the eldest Lady Arlington is a delight to keep co
mpany with. She is now ninety years of age, and was not able to come for the wedding. She did send her kind regards.”

  “She has invited me with a formal invitation to visit with her, even at my own request.”

  “I’m afraid now would not be the best time. Word has been sent that a small army has landed there to confront the lady’s son, who is now the duke of Arlington, and that it may not be in the emperor’s favor.”

  “An army,” she repeated, turning toward him. “From where?”

  “Roark,” he regretfully returned.

  “Roark. Isn’t that—“

  His nod stopped her. She brought her steps to an immediate stop. “I’m yet to fully understand the extent of it,” he admitted.

  “You needn’t go,” she said, recalling the former king of Roark whose head Jacob had brought back into New Ebony. “King Alfred could very well be setting a trap in order to avenge his brother.”

  He fell silent as if to think it over. But surely he already had. They began walking again, even slower now than before.

  “Then you have heard.”

  “Well, it is written in some of our books, even.” She tilted her head to the side. “Is it true?”

  “Yes,” he said as if dreading the memory of it. “I beheaded the former king in favor of the emperor…to prove a point, even, that we will not tolerate conflict of any kind. According to Duke Arlington, these men are not here on the king’s behalf, but on ours.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  He barely shook his head. “I can’t…not until I have seen and heard so for myself. This small army consists of advocates and such, although some guards may be present, supposedly on behalf of Prince Fredrick, the king’s youngest brother and their bloodline’s final candidate for the throne. If only all of these could be more like their father. He was a gallant man.”

  “Will you be safe?”

  “If it is a plot, Duke Arlington is at fault. There are ways to indicate such things in secret. The message was written by his hand, and arrived by the hands of one of his own. It contains no evidence that he has been bribed or threatened into luring me into the city.”

  They began to walk in silence.

  “When will you leave?” She eventually asked.

  “Within the hour.” He paused before saying, “Don’t worry. I will be well. I am certain Duke Arlington would not betray me. I will travel with my guards, and have others stationed secretly in the case they are needed.”

  “But your illness…what if—“

  “My physician will also join me…as is customary.”

  “And Holly?” It came out before she’d even realized the thought.

  He shook his head gently. “No.”

  “The duke of Arlington,” she found herself recalling, quickly changing the subject. She did not want to look like an overly jealous fool. But she had thought of Miss Holly a lot, and had already come to the conclusion that she and Jacob had at one time been lovers.

  “Is he not the brother, then, of your first wife, Isabelle?”

  He paused a moment before saying, “he is”

  “And you and he have been at peace.”

  “Ah, yes, and I cannot think of him betraying or misleading me. He and I have always gotten along.”

  “I have heard of instances where a man will wed a younger sister if by chance the elder does not survive…that is in the case of an arranged marriage. It’s no secret they are arranged mainly for political purposes. Were there no other sisters? Beside Isabelle?”

  “One, yes. She was expected to take Isabelle’s place following her death. Arlington produces a fine army. Combined with mine through matrimony, well, the emperor would be safe for certain, even in the case the nobles suddenly raised up against him. But it became rumored about that she had defiled herself, not that it is held against her. She did admit to this. So, then, she has become a sort of refuge for other men of nobility. Not that she has become an object of scorn. But she is no longer pursued, so to speak, for the sake of marriage.”

  Rachel had heard of such women being used for gratification, even in the place of a wife.

  Another space of silence fell before she reasoned, “I do wish you would reconsider this invitation.”

  “Don’t worry for me,” he peacefully ordered. “I am well able to fend for myself, even if I am of age. I will return.”

  She believed him, for she knew there was strength in him, not just inner, but the few times she’d witnessed his naked arms and torso for herself…he was not a weak man. She’d watched him at sword’s play with other nobles and with members of the guard. He always bested his opponent. She had no trouble at all imagining him wielding his sword in battle, or even of using it to behead a man, although she imagined he would have to be very angry to do such a thing. But she could not actually imagine him becoming so angry as that.

  “I know,” she quietly replied, and he stopped, taking her arm and turning her about to face him.

  “I will be fine,” he assured, touching a palm to her cheek. He smoothed her hair back before lowering his hand. “I was saying before that I have sensed you are troubled…and I take the blame. I imagine you sense my desire for you, how I want you in my bed. I think it must make you uneasy.”

  She had actually become quite uneasy with her own feelings, but kept it to herself.

  “You must be terribly disappointed,” she told him.

  “In you, no, not at all. I keep my distance at times not only for my sake but yours as well. I do not want to do or say anything out of the way, or even oppress you with this—this energy, so to speak. But it has turned into a terrible tension. The distance and the silence are often unbearable, but can’t always be evaded. I attempt to avoid these needs being detected, hoping to eliminate any pressure they may cause you. I am a man of my word. In the beginning I made a promise…you could remain virtuous. I cannot be the one to instigate otherwise.”

  “You truly think you will die,” she observed.

  “Men of my line do not live to see an old age. It’s no secret. The longest to survive was the age of fifty-eight, and that was many centuries ago. My father had just turned fifty-two when he passed away, the very day after. You see how close I am to that. I may be given two more years, but they pass quickly. Then I will be at risk. It happens so suddenly. You needn’t lose your virtue. I told you so, and I meant it. If you sense my desire just know I am a man of my word.”

  “I know you are.”

  “And I can contain myself,” he added. “With you, it has merely taken more adjustment than I had anticipated.”

  “I do not feel pressured at all,” she told him, and found it difficult to look him straight in the eye, for she had entertained equal aspirations and her imagination had produced the most sensual images.

  He raised a hand, smoothing it down her hair. “Surely you have felt such a thing before, Rachel,” he said, which proved he had, indeed, discerned it.

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “As peculiar as this may sound to you, no. No, I have not. Not like this.”

  Slowly but surely a grin touched his lips. “I think that is remarkable,” he said.

  “I find it most disturbing,” she admitted. “Even I have been tempted to do away with our agreement.”

  “I am proud to be the first to rouse such desire in you. I find it hard to believe, but believable. You would not lie to me.”

  “I imagine there are others who have not desired such an intimate encounter with a man, especially amongst those in the same position as me…or as I was, as I vowed to be. Sister Camille, perhaps, even.”

  He almost laughed. She cocked her head to the side.

  “She is virtuous, no doubt, but not ignorant when it comes to such things.”

  “No?”

  “Sister Camille and I grew up together, in a sense, although she is several years older than I. We were raised here together in the palace. You see, she was an orphan, and became a handmaiden for my mother. But she was more
treated as a daughter, which my mother had not produced. Even aside from spiritual condolences, in the natural she is like a sister to me. She has loved and lost, but virtuous she has remained.”

  “Who?” She curiously inquired. “Whom did she love?”

  “He has been dead many years now.” He put a finger to her chin, urging her to look up at him. “I love you, Rachel,” he said with such sincerity in his eyes. “That is all that matters. We had our agreement beforehand, and I have no regrets. You must believe that. The desire to make love when reacted upon afterward bring about particular results, some pleasant others not. It may instill an even deeper need to do so again, it may make it tolerable to do without again, or it may cause resentment. I would not have you awaken one morning regretting something that could have been avoided, and even resenting me.”

  “There are women who are available to you,” she found herself saying, even thinking about the younger sister.

  “I am no longer a foolish and selfish young man. I’m soon to be fifty years of age. I can be faithful, even to that extent.”

  She parted her lips to speak, and then put them together again, not sure if she should say what came to mind or not, or how to even say it, or even if she meant it.

  “What is it?” He urged. “There is something you want to say.”

  She tried to be straightforward and strong and confident. “I…I would not hold it against you.” She forced the words from her mouth as if they imposed the greatest threat of all.

  She had already imagined this, he falling into the arms of some other woman, not only Holly and other of the young maidens who tended to the palace and its operation, but the woman with no face. She had already gone thru feelings of jealousy and resentment that such images aroused, even so far as to imagine Zaria making love to him. Yes, she took these feelings to the altar…out of guilt. For she had decided; if he were to stray and she knew of it…surely that would evoke bitterness in her toward him and curb her desires altogether. How horrible of her to conclude such things.

  He was very serious when he asked, “Will not hold what against me?” But she felt he knew exactly what she meant. Still, she wanted to make it clear to him. It was not entirely fair of him to do without intimacy because of her refusal to yield.