Duchess

by Nicolette Andrews

  He is presumptuous, as handsome young men often are. What does he want with me? I wondered. “I wish you would have given me notice; I might have been given some advantage since you know my name and I do not know you at all.”

  He laughed, a husky, pleasant sound. “I forget myself; forgive me. I am Tomas Deane. I was a friend of Artor’s. I came to give my condolences.”

  He speaks of Artor in a familiar way. “Lord Deane, I am afraid my husband never mentioned you. Did you fight in the war together?”

  He smiled again as if enjoying some private joke. “I am not a lord, your grace.” He emphasized my title as if he were making a point. “No, my family is rather new, actually. I am not associated with any of the twelve Great Houses.”

  I frowned as I puzzled out the mysterious Tomas Deane. A man who knew my husband yet was not from one of the twelve Great Houses. Then it dawned on me. “You are a merchant.”

  He tapped his walking stick on the ground. Tap. Tap. Tap. “My lady has it correct! I suppose my lady knows from experience.”

  He is trying to shame me, but there is no shame in who I am. “Yes, my father runs a successful trade in the north. You seem to know much about me. I can presume you already knew that as well?”

  He chuckled. “I did. He specializes in potions and rare poisons if I am not mistaken.” He grinned at me. “It must be disarming, having a stranger know so much about you.”

  My heritage was not a secret. What concerned me was why this man felt the need to throw it back at me as if it were an insult. “Perhaps it is.”

  He smiled back at my coy response. “Well, I suppose I cannot keep you with my flirting all day. I came to give my condolence, and now I have. So I shall let you settle in.”

  His manner was disarming. He is playing a game in which I know not the rules. “I appreciate you coming to call; perhaps you might come again when I have properly settled in.” He knows something. Why else come when I have only just arrived?

  My lady’s maid returned to show him out. She was fluttering her lashes at him. He’s even charmed my servants.

  “You are very kind,” he said with a bow. He headed for the doorway but stopped before he passed through it. He tapped his walking stick on the floor once more. “I almost forgot. If you need to find information, the best place to start is in the Hall of Entertainment. Games of chance seem to loosen men’s and women’s tongues alike.” He smiled.

  “Who says I came here looking for anything?” I replied, in part curious and in part wary. This man knew too much and revealed too little.

  “As I said, I was a friend of Artor’s.” He winked and swung his walking stick as he strolled out the door.

  Chapter Four

  There may have been a war raging outside the palace walls, but within the palace you would be hard-pressed to believe it. Women, the old, and the injured enjoyed endless parties and frivolity. The parties may have been leaner, with fewer guests than before the war, and the food may have been bland for want of spices and more meat, but the courtiers continued on with life as it were.

  I decided to take Tomas’ advice and paid a visit to the Hall of Entertainment. It was a good place for a man to lose his purse and for a maiden to flirt under the watchful eye of her chaperone. Everyone was looking to make a marital alliance in those days. A quick marriage and bedding would hopefully win a lady a title and an heir in case her husband did not return from battle. There were few eligible bachelors, and the competition was fierce. The ladies outnumbered the men three to one, and they were bedecked in their finest splendor. The Hall of Entertainment was awash with breathy giggles, lace, and pearls.

  I felt out of place in my black gown; it covered me from throat to wrist. The young women were bedecked in their springtime best—fuchsia, violet and cerulean—and they fanned themselves as they watched the men play cards, cheering their favorites.

  I was unsurprised to see Tomas among the other young men, smiling as he played cards. There were four other men with him, varying in age from early twenties to middle age. I knew none of them upon sight but made my way to their table nonetheless. They sat at a round wooden table polished to a high gleam. Cards were laid out upon the table along with markers, which I assumed they were using to place bets. He led me here, so I shall play into his hand and see what he wants to show me.

  When I approached their table, Tomas looked up at me and grinned. “Your grace, well met.”

  The other men at the table regarded me as well. A man near thirty glanced at me briefly, but I got an impression of his blue eyes, House Raleban’s eyes. Many of the ruling house had dark blue eyes. He must be Prince Garrison, King Dallen’s younger brother. Tomas has powerful companions.

  “Yes, what a happy coincidence,” I replied with a smile.

  “Would you like to join our card game, your grace?” Tomas offered me a seat beside him with a sweep of his hand.

  “You are very kind to offer, but I fear I have no head for games,” I demurred.

  “I’d be happy to teach you how it is played, your grace.” He flashed me another wolfish smile.

  He certainly loves to play games, that much is clear, but what is he playing for?

  “I fear you have me beat. I shall play if you will teach me the rules.” I took a seat beside him.

  He introduced me to his companions. As I had suspected, the man with the blue eyes was Prince Garrison, and beside him sat Lord Everth and Herald Bane. The former was a son of a minor branch of house Quentin, and the latter was the baseborn son of the Duke of Nanore. They were not injured soldiers as I had first surmised but were on leave from the fighting and would return with the prince when he led his next attack against Neaux.

  “Your Highness, I must compliment you on your prowess upon the field. I hear none are as fearless as you nor have so many victories,” I said to the prince as I laid my cards down on the table. I smiled at the prince, who returned my praise with a blank expression.

  “His Highness does not take well to praise.” Lord Everth chuckled. “He’s more a man of the sword than words.”

  I laughed at Lord Everth’s jest. Prince Garrison continued to stare at me. “When do you leave for battle? I am sure your lady wife must miss you terribly in your absence,” I remarked to the prince. Someone of his position must have known what Artor was investigating.

  “My wife has been dead these past thirteen years,” he replied. His tone chilled me to the bone.

  I bit my lip and pretended to straighten my cards. “My mistake. I had forgotten she had passed.” I cursed myself for my foolish faux pas. The prince had married a few years before I had married Artor, but unlike us, he had not married for love. His bride had been the Jerauchian Regent’s daughter. Jerauch was our neighbor to the north and our ally in the war. Prince Garrison’s brother, King Dallen, had arranged the match shortly after he had taken the throne. Prince Garrison’s wife had died in the childbed, I now recalled.

  “I have not forgotten, not for a moment,” he whispered.

  It may not have been a love match, but he seems to have cared for her to have never married again, and he only has the one child, a son if I am remembering correctly.

  The game ran its course, and I lost three silver coins and a few coppers to Tomas. I had learned little and made more of a fool of myself than I would have liked. I decided it was time to call it quits before Tomas took my entire purse. This is going to be more difficult than I imagined.

  “I am sorry to have taken your coin,” Tomas said as he scooped my coins and the others across the table.

  Herald Bane was muttering about losing to a swindler, and Prince Garrison was speaking with Lord Everth about horses. I got the impression this was not an uncommon occurrence.

  “I was bound to be taken, having no knowledge of the game from the start.” I stood, and the men stood with me. I bowed to them. “My lords, thank you for indulging me.”

  “The greatest pleasure was mine, your grace,” Tomas said. He took my hand and pres
sed a kiss to it. He rubbed my palm, and my pulse quickened. My impulse was to pull away, but I dared not let him realize how his touch affected me. He’s a valuable asset. He knows something. I just need to play his game to win the prize.

  I turned to leave when I saw a man sitting in the far corner of the room. He had brown hair, long and tied back in a tail at the base of his neck. A few strands had escaped and fell in front of his eyes. He did not seem to notice me as he brooded over a marble table with chess pieces set upon it. I meant to give him a passing glance when I noticed the mural he sat beneath was one of the Oak Tree of Danhad. The branches painted upon the wall spread out behind him like a canopy.

  Remember the old oak tree. That is where I will be.

  It was more like a mere coincidence, but I decided to speak to him nonetheless, just to prove to myself that it was nothing but my imagination. I sauntered over to his table. He did not glance up once as I approached. His brows were pulled together as he stared at the pieces arrayed before him. I took a moment to study his face. He was perhaps in his thirtieth year, with a square jaw and stubble across his chin. His hands were large and calloused.

  I cleared my throat. He did not so much as twitch. The pieces were arranged as if he were in the middle of a game, but there was no one around to play the other pieces. The queen piece was right in front of him. She was ivory with streaks of pink in the marbling. He moved the queen forward three spaces and knocked aside the pawn in its path. That is how I feel, like the pawn of a queen, to be cast aside as soon as my use runs dry. This will happen soon if I do not find anything about Artor’s death or what he was trying to discover.

  “Do you often play alone?” I asked, hoping he would answer a direct question.

  He glanced up at me then. He had a thick brow and dark haunted eyes. His hair, I realized, was greasy and unkempt, and there were food stains on his doublet.

  “My lady?” His voice croaked as if it had been a long time since he had spoken aloud.

  “I noticed you sitting here alone. I thought you might like a partner?” I motioned to the tabletop with a sweep of my hand. In my clumsiness I knocked over the chattel and the knight.

  I swore under my breath—a bad habit from my youth—and picked up the pieces, righting them in what I hoped were the right positions.

  He stared at me. His eyebrows nearly touched; his dark brown eyes were searching. Despite his disheveled appearance, he had a shrewd gaze. His eyes look intelligent enough.

  “I only play experienced players—it’s not a challenge otherwise.” He looked away from me and back at the table.

  I scowled at the top of his head. “What makes you assume I am inexperienced?” I bristled.

  “If you were an experienced player, you would have seen that I am not playing alone, I play by correspondence.”

  Perhaps he is mad. War does that to men. They see too much death and come back with their minds lost. I should have walked away, but I could not discount that shrewd look in his eye. What if he had known Artor and he had been placed here as a message to me? It was a preposterous thought. I was desperate enough to ignore the madness of it.

  “How does one play by correspondence?” I asked.

  He laughed, and it was a rich velvet sound that seemed at odds with his unkempt appearance. “Leave me be, my lady. You have better things to do than banter with someone of low birth like myself, surely.”

  I was being dismissed, and that galled me. I balled my hands into fists to stop myself from lashing out. Instead I asked the question outright, “Did you know my husband, Artor Florett?”

  “No, my lady.” He looked away back to his chess pieces. He had a piece of parchment that he withdrew from his pocket. He scribbled the positions of the pieces upon the board.

  I was fuming as I turned to walk away from him. I am a fool for thinking someone like him could possibly be holding a message from Artor. I am reading too much into this; the necklace, the locket and his letter may very well not be connected.

  As I was walking away, Tomas stepped into my path. “Your grace, you seem to be in a hurry. I hope that brigand did not upset you.”

  I glared at him for a moment before taking a deep breath. Tomas was not rude; it was that man. Don’t let them see you lose your temper.

  “I thought he may have known my husband. It was just a widow’s folly. Do not trouble yourself with me,” I said with a forced smile.

  Tomas glanced over my shoulder towards the man in the corner. “He told you about the battle, then? I’m sorry. A woman should be spared such details.”

  “He did not tell me about any battle. He said he did not know my husband.”

  Tomas tapped his walking stick on the ground. “That is a lie. Hilliard Gullen was the only man found alive when your husband’s van was attacked.”

  I bit down on my shock. I did not want Tomas to see me as anything other than calm and collected. “Why would he lie?” I felt like a foolish child for asking.

  Tomas shrugged. “Maybe he has something to hide?”

  I looked over at Hilliard Gullen. From a distance, he seemed very small and hunched as he stared at his chess pieces alone in a dark corner. The courtiers all kept a fair distance from him. I could not help but wonder why. Is this my husband’s killer? I had to find out.

  Chapter Five

  I returned to the Hall of Entertainment the next day. Once again, Hilliard was sitting at the chess table. The pieces were not out as they had been the day prior but lined up waiting to start a new game. He was contemplating the pieces, lost in his own world. Why did you live while Artor died? Did you hold the blade that slit his throat, or were you a coward who plotted his murder? I sat down across from him. I slammed both hands on the tabletop, and his head snapped up to meet my determined gaze. His eyes were large and wild as he stared at me without seeing. He is mad! He will strangle the life out of me; I can see it in his eyes.

  “Your grace,” he said in his rumbling tone. He was tense in his seat, watching me with hooded eyes. That hint of madness had vanished, but it lingered in my memory.

  It was too late to turn back now. “My lord husband, Duke Florett, often told me I had quite the skill at playing chess. I thought you might be so good as to lower yourself enough to play a game with me. Prove to me that my husband was not a liar.” I emphasized the last word.

  He did not notice my underlying meaning or chose to ignore it. His expression was difficult to read.

  I scanned the board to avoid staring at him. I was afraid if I looked at him too long, I would demand the truth. He would not blurt out the truth no matter how much I begged. He even refused to acknowledge that he knew Artor.

  A smile curled his lips as he chuckled. “I don’t suppose I am going to get you to leave anytime soon, am I?”

  I scowled at him. “No.” Do not try to charm me. I know what sort of monster you are. Even if you did not kill him, you must be a craven for escaping where Artor did not.

  “Shall we play, then?” He swept his right hand across the board. His hand was scarred; I had not noticed that before. He had a fresh pink scar on the back of his hand.

  “How kind of you to ask.” I could not disguise the venom in my tone. Calm yourself. Do not let your anger bleed through. Keep a clear head.

  I sat before the ivory pieces, and him the ebony. “Ladies first.” He nodded in my direction.

  I stared at the board, considering my first move. The chess pieces were finely crafted. They were perhaps the size of my pointer finger. They were made of pink and white marble for the ivory, and the ebony had flecks of gold veins along with ruby eyes on the knights. It was not chess that I was concerned with but the battle of wits I was about to enter. Hilliard was hiding the truth from me, and I was determined to find out what he was hiding and what it had to do with Artor’s death.

  “Maybe we could sweeten the game?” I said. I rolled one of the ebony pawn pieces between my thumb and forefinger.

  He raised a brow and watched my hands
as I fiddled with the piece. I set it down and smiled at him. “Aye?”

  I laid my hands on either side of the board and leaned forward over the pieces. “If I win, I will ask you a question, and you must answer truthfully, no matter what I ask.”

  He scratched the stubble on his chin and regarded me. I realized today his doublet was clean and his hair seemed to have been washed. “You can ask me anything without games, milady.”

  “I don’t think that is true, sir. But since you are being so forthcoming, might you tell me what happened at the battle of Redfield?”

  His face blanched, and I saw that madness glimmer in his eyes once more. He knows I know that he is the only survivor. He crossed his hands over his chest and regarded me. “Very well, then. I will counter your wager. If I win, I want a kiss.”

  I blushed, and speech escaped me. How dare he ask such a thing! I pushed my chair back, thinking to leave before I slapped him. Artor was the only man I had ever loved. I thought I would spend the rest of my life with him, give him ten children and die in his arms when I was a very old woman surrounded by all of our grandchildren. But the Goddess had only given us Layton. We had tried for other children, but after four miscarriages and a stillbirth, we decided to stop trying. Then the war came, and any hope of future children was dashed. It’s an innocent request, and I will not lose. Artor taught me well. Despite that, I still felt like a traitor for even considering such an offer.

  “Not as brazen as you were before.” He grinned at me.

  He had a pleasing smile, and he was handsome in a rough sort of way. Artor’s hands were soft; this man’s hands are rough and calloused. I hardly ever saw Artor with stubble or long hair; this man looks like he shaves with a jagged stone. This man lived while Artor died. How could you agree to such an unseemly wager?