"Thank you for your compassion, My Lady. My mother sends her regrets for her absence and asks that the marriage go forward since it was my father's dying wish."
Sabine sensed that he had only agreed to the marriage for that reason. She looked into his piercing eyes which appeared unfeeling, and yet she felt he was striving to hide his grief.
She felt such pity for Garreth Blackthorn that her eyes filled with tears. Surely it must be difficult for him to proceed with the wedding when his father had so recently died.
Lord Woodbridge looked undecided. "We would readily agree to postpone the marriage for a decent interval and allow you time to mourn your father."
"Tis of no matter," he said, his mouth set in a grim line. "The pity is that you are hardly out of the nursery. You should be amusing yourself with childish games, not dressed in that ridiculous gown that makes it appear that you're playing at being grown."
Sabine's spine stiffened. "My situation will one day be remedied—for I will surely grow older, Your Grace. But is there a remedy for your bad manners?"
His lips curved into a grim smile. "Not even married and already you give me a dressing-down. I see no wedded bliss for us, My Lady."
By now they had reached the glen that had been chosen for the ceremony. The wedding party stood beneath a grove of oak trees that arched together in a natural canopy. Lord Woodbridge had insisted that the family priest, Father Santini, perform the wedding mass, and the king had reluctantly agreed.
Sabine knelt beside Garreth Blackthorn, with her small hand in his, while she pledged her heart and her liege to the house of Balmarough. When Garreth slid a ring on her finger, she stared at the Balmarough crest, a dragon in flight, reflecting through a sparkling ruby. She felt hysterical laughter bubble up inside her when the ring almost slid off her slender finger.
Garreth Blackthorn stood and pulled her up beside him. She trembled with fright when he brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek.
"I fear that you have the worst of the bargain, little Sabine, for I am now your legal husband."
His hand tightened about hers as he turned to Lord Woodbridge. "The agreement you made with my father is met, My Lord—the deed is done."
Bishop Laud, the Lord Mayor of London, who had organized the wedding celebration, appeared beside them, his face glowing. "A banquet has been set up in the large tent. Shall we all proceed to the feast that has so generously been provided by His Majesty?"
Garreth turned to the king. "I pray Your Majesty will understand when I beg to be excused from the festivities. There is much that requires my attention at home."
King Charles looked disapproving. "I prefer that you remain, young Garreth."
Sabine spoke up. "Please give him leave, Your Majesty. It must be difficult for him to celebrate with his father so newly deceased."
The king smiled. "I yield to the wisdom and compassion of your new wife, Garreth. We shall excuse you from the banquet—though some will view it as unconventional."
Garreth turned his attention back to the child he'd just married. "Will you walk with me? There is much I would say to you."
Sabine nodded and placed her hand on his extended arm. As they moved away from the noise of the crowd, Garreth shortened his long strides to match her slow limp.
"I know that you must be feeling frightened and resentful, Sabine, so I want to assure you that you have nothing to fear from me. As you know, you will go home with your parents until such time as you reach your sixteenth birthday. Only then will you move to Wolfeton Keep to be under the tutelage of my mother."
"Wolfeton Keep?"
"Tis my home." For the first time he smiled. "I believe you will like it."
She merely nodded, knowing that it didn't matter if she liked it or not. From this day forward, this man had the right to decide her future.
He mistook her silence for concern. "You do understand the terms of the wedding contract? You shan't be expected to be a true wife to me until you reach your eighteenth birthday."
Again she nodded. Her mother had explained this to her. When she would have turned away, Garreth took her hand and pulled her back to him.
"Little girl, you will not find me a demanding husband."
Suddenly, for reasons she did not fully understand, Sabine reached up to her hair, withdrew a crimson rose. "A token for your father," she said softly, and a tear rolled down her cheek and fell upon the petals of the rose.
As a heavy mist swirled about them, Garreth took the rose and tucked it into his doublet. "My father would have liked the gesture. Until we meet again, keep well."
At last, she found her voice. "When will I see you?"
He arched his dark brow. "Do you want to?"
"Perhaps, so I won't forget what you look like."
He smiled, and she felt her heart thump against her breasts. "Then you shall see me." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers. "Grow strong and wise for the day when you will come to me, my little duchess."
Without another word, he turned and moved away from her.
Sabine Blackthorn, the duchess of Balmarough, watched her husband mount his giant warhorse and ride across the moor until he was out of sight. She felt very unlike a bride.
The banquet was an ordeal. Sabine was seated between the king, who was in a jovial mood, and her father, who was not. Several times her mother tried to mediate between the two men, but her attempts did not meet with success.
Sabine pushed the food around in her plate, feeling that if she took a bite, she would surely choke.
She glanced about at the people at each table—some she knew, many she did not since they were the bridegroom's friends and family. She was weary and only wanted to go to bed. At last the king rose, wished them well and departed—now Sabine could leave.
Lord and Lady Woodbridge were still conversing with the guests, when Sabine slipped away. She wanting only to get out of the heavy gown and lie down because her leg ached so wretchedly. She was approaching the clearing near her mother's tent, when the sound of voices reached her.
"The jest is on Garreth," a young courtier said with a laugh. "Imagine, married to a child, and a cripple at that. I could see nothing to admire in her. You are Garreth's cousin, Cortland, what do you think of the new duchess?"
"She brings great wealth with her," he said. "For such a dowry, I could join with a squint-eyed, pock-marked hag and call myself well-satisfied."
Spiteful laughter filled the night air, and Sabine slumped against the wide trunk of a gnarled oak tree and buried her face in her hands. The physical pain that she lived with daily was nothing compared to the agony she felt at the cruel words that had been spoken so carelessly and in jest.
Then she heard an angry voice cut through the laughter. "Don't speak of the child so. She was frightened and unhappy, and deserves our compassion. And as for Garreth, think you that he cares about her wealth? He merely fulfilled his father's pledge to the king."
"We meant no harm, Stephen," said a gruff voice. "We are all friends here. I'm Garreth's cousin. Come, everyone, fill your glasses and drink a toast to the duke of Balmarough and his duchess, that they shall know true wedded bliss."
Sabine couldn't see what happened, but the laughter started again.
"Aye," the man named Stephen called out contemptuously. "Drink to Garreth's health, and then mock him. We are all friends here indeed!"
Then Sabine heard what sounded like a silver goblet hitting the tree she was leaning against.
"What ails Stephen?" someone asked, "and where is he off to in such haste? Could it be that he goes to offer comfort to his beauteous stepmother now that Garreth is wed?"
"Nay, Stephen has no liking for his father's wife. And as for Garreth, many women will weep tonight because he's wed." Cortland Blackthorn spoke maliciously. "Think you the new little bride knows that Stephen's stepmother is Garreth's mistress and true love?"
"Better you should ask what Lady Meredith will say about the little brid
e. The child had best have a care or that cat will scratch her eyes out."
"It would be a pity," Cortland Blackthorn mocked.
Although Sabine had never met Garreth's cousin, she could tell by his voice that he had no love for her husband, and she was certain she did not like him.
"Come, Cortland," someone cajoled. "Don't be so harsh about the lovely Eugenia. Lord Meredith is old and ailing—some say he won't live past the summer. I have heard Lady Meredith say that she fancies herself as Garreth's wife. She had her heart set on one day being a duchess."
"Mayhap she would do better to remain Garreth's mistress. A wife is only a necessity to beget sons, while a mistress is for love and pleasure," another said.
The laughter cut into Sabine's heart. She wanted to leave, but dared not for fear of being discovered.
"Truth to tell, Garreth's child bride looked sickly to me. She may not even outlive Lady Meredith's husband," Cortland said. "My cousin may yet be free to marry whom he chooses. Fortune seems to always favor him, rot his soul."
Sabine clamped her hand over her mouth, wishing she were dead. The man she had just vowed before God to love and honor, did not honor her, nor did he love her. He loved someone called Lady Meredith.
3
When Lady Meredith heard the sound of a coach arriving, she jumped up from the chair where she had been lounging and rushed to view her reflection in the mirror. At last Garreth had come, and her long wait was over! She smiled at her reflection—long golden hair, deep blue eyes, and a figure that a sixteen-year-old girl would envy. She pinched her cheeks to give them some color, then moistened her lips with her tongue.
No one would suspect from her appearance that she was thirty years old. She had told Garreth that she was twenty, his same age, and he had believed her. She would tell any lie, do anything, to make him love her, and she had succeeded!
She had used all her wiles to overcome his reluctance to become entangled with a married woman. His friendship with her stepson, Stephen, had also been an obstacle. But now Garreth worshipped her, and for him she would control her natural urges and pretend to be the proper wife who was torn by her love for him.
Eugenia fantasized about Garreth touching her and making love to her. Thus far she had played coy and not allowed him to bed her. But he wanted her—she knew that. It had taken more scheming to entrap him than any of her former lovers, but one day Garreth would be the duke of Balmarough, and she intended to be his duchess.
Her eyes gleamed as she thought of lying in his arms with his hot kisses on her lips. This would be the night that she would pretend she could no longer hold out against her feelings for him. Tonight they would become lovers.
Eugenia patted her curls into place, and satisfied with her appearance, returned to a chair by the window and busied herself with some needlework she found in a basket on the floor. It would never do to let Garreth know that she had been watching for his arrival.
As she heard voices coming from the entryway, her heart started racing and every nerve tingled with anticipation. She managed to look startled and innocent when the door to her sitting room was flung open unceremoniously.
"Oh, 'tis only you," she said to her stepson, Stephen.
He swept his plumed hat from his head and bowed in the same movement. The smile he gave her was mocking and his gray eyes were filled with dislike. "You were expecting someone else, Stepmother?" he asked in feigned surprise. "I crave your pardon if my message failed to precede me."
Every gesture he made and every word he spoke to her was exaggeratedly polite, and she hated him because she knew that his actions thinly masked his contempt. In her anticipation of Garreth's visit tonight, she had forgotten that Stephen would be arriving today.
"Your father is confined to his chambers with some new malady, if you were looking for him," she said.
"No, 'tis you that I came to see. Had I wanted my father, I would not have come to your salon, madame, since one never finds the two of you together."
Eugenia's hands tightened, and she ached to slap the polite condescension off his face. "Everyone knows that Bertram is no husband to me. He's an old man, sick and dying."
Stephen ignored her affront to his father—he had heard this all before. "I hope that you will excuse my travel dust," he said, indicating his mud-spattered clothing, "but I hastened so that I could be the first to tell you that Garreth has wed and is safe from your wiles." With satisfaction, he watched Eugenia's face pale.
"You lie!" she cried, coming to her feet. "Garreth loves me, I tell you, ME!"
Stephen was unmoved by her histrionics. "I don't think what Garreth feels for you is love, Eugenia. He loves what he thinks you are. Pity he cannot know your true character."
"How self-righteous you are. Why should you care that Garreth loves me?" Eugenia asked pointedly. Her eyes were full of contempt. "Your father doesn't care."
Stephen shrugged. "My father knew the kind of woman you were when he married you. He wanted you as an adornment on his arm, and you've been that. If he has no complaint in the way you comport yourself, then neither do I. But I blame myself that Garreth has fallen into your little trap since he met you through me."
"Garreth is the love of my life. Nothing you can say will stop his loving me."
Stephen looked incredulous. "Did you tell him about Lord Havisham and Lord Early, Eugenia? Or how about Daniel Goodman? I believe that Goodman was a butcher by trade, but that didn't keep him out of your bed, did it?"
"You beast! Garreth would love me no matter what I did in the past."
Stephen smiled slightly. "Then why don't you tell him about the night three years ago? As I recall, I was sixteen at the time."
Grimly, she waited, knowing what Stephen was going to say. Until now, neither of them had spoken of that night.
"Father unexpectedly became ill at your twenty-seventh birthday party, so the guests left early," Stephen continued. "That was the night 1 became disenchanted with you, Eugenia—the night you tried to climb into my bed. You had been married to my father for less than a year." He was thoughtful for a moment. "Was it boredom that brought you to my bedchamber that night? You were no longer the loving stepmother after I refused you—were you, Eugenia?"
"You dare say this to me!" she shrieked, running at Stephen and scratching at his face. "You were just a boy with no experience—why would I have wanted you?"
Stephen grabbed her wrists, restraining her. "This is the real you, Eugenia. If only Garreth could see you now."
There were voices coming from the entryway and Eugenia could hear Garreth speaking to the butler.
"Stephen," she warned, "if you say anything to—"
"I won't have to tell him, Eugenia. Unless I am mistaken, Garreth has come to do the honorable thing and bid you adieu. But then you wouldn't understand about honor, would you, Stepmother?"
Garreth entered the room and when he saw Stephen, he paused, looking from Eugenia to his friend.
Eugenia shot her stepson a triumphant look before going forward to greet her visitor. "You need not pretend
,^24 CONSTANCE O'BANYON
with Stephen, Garreth. He knows about us, and has for a longtime."
"Leave us alone, will you, Stephen?" Garreth asked, hoping Stephen would understand. "I'll have a word with Lady Meredith."
Seeing Stephen's hesitation, Garreth added, "You need have no fear for your stepmother's reputation when she is with me."
"Think you that I care who my stepmother beds? There have been many before you; there will be many after you are gone."
Eugenia cried out in rage, and Garreth moved to her side, unbridled anger coursing through his veins. "You go too far, Stephen. I will not allow anyone, not even you, to speak of Eugenia in this manner. It matters not if you are my friend, you will not defame her. I love Eugenia."
Stephen laughed, but it was without humor. "How can it be, Garreth, that you are older than me by a year, worldly and sophisticated, yet you have so little knowledge of
my stepmother's sort? Think you that my father doesn't know about all her lovers? Did you really believe that you were the first?"
Eugenia watched helplessly as Garreth's face paled. She could see the growing distaste in his expression. He must not believe Stephen. She had to do something quickly. "You are simply jealous, Stephen."
"Madame, I may be the only man who finds nothing in you to love or admire," Stephen replied as he walked toward the door. He could only hope that Garreth would see Eugenia's true character for himself.
Garreth was confused. He did not want Stephen to think that he and Eugenia were lovers. "Before you go, Stephen, I would ask your pardon for deceiving you. You must believe that we have done no more than profess our love, but for the one time I kissed her."
Eugenia could see that she was losing Garreth. She lashed out at him. "Don't be so noble, Garreth. You didn't have me because I deemed it so. Had I wished it, you would have come to my bed fast enough."
When Stephen saw the sickened expression on Garreth's face he almost found it within himself to pity his stepmother—almost, but not quite. "If you need me, Garreth, I'll be with my father," he said as he left the room.
Slowly, Eugenia raised her eyes to Garreth. "If I spoke unkindly it's just because you've wounded me so deeply. Was Stephen mistaken when he told me that you are married?"
"He was not mistaken," Garreth admitted. "Although I would have preferred to tell you myself. I could not write you about the marriage and there was no time to come to you before the wedding."
She felt unbridled fury. "You said you loved me. Why would you marry someone else?"
"I was compelled to take a wife," he said. "That's why I'm here. To tell you."
Eugenia's eyes flashed and her breath came out in a hiss. "You betrayed our love, Garreth! How long have you professed to love me, while scheming to marry another? For the first time in my life, I discovered the true meaning of love. I wanted to live with you as your wife, to grow old with you, to have your children."
He looked stricken and confused. "That could never be—you have a husband, and now, I have a wife."
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