“Greetings, Daughter,” he finally murmured with a brief glance in my direction. He was looking at some of the pages I had worked on earlier, and I studied his bowed head, noting there were only a few threads of silver in his dark auburn hair.
I frowned at the sound of his voice. From the moment we had met upon my return to England, everything about my father had seemed somehow comforting and familiar, even the sound of his voice. The source of these feelings was a mystery. As far as I knew, we had never been familial, and he had never offered me comfort. I thought of King Edward as my liege lord much more often than I thought of him as my father. But something about being in his presence skewed those logical thoughts. He made me feel as if I were a child again, clamoring for a parent’s affection.
“Your Highness,” I murmured as I gathered my skirts and sank into a low curtsey. “To what do we owe the honor of your company?”
“I suspect you know the reason well enough,” he said. At last he set the pages aside. He rose to greet me, and then stepped around the table as I moved forward. He took my shoulders in a fatherly grip and then kissed me on each cheek. His beard tickled my face a little, and I could smell the outdoors on him, trees and meadows, along with a touch of leather. “You look well this day, despite this morning’s tragedy.”
“I am sorry for the loss of your knight,” I said.
“Sir Roland served me well for many years,” he said. “He will be sorely missed.”
He glanced at Faulke, and then held out his hand. Faulke stepped forward and went to one knee as he kissed the king’s ring.
My father was several inches taller than me, but he had always seemed larger than life in my mind. When Faulke rose again, it was a surprise to realize that Faulke was the taller of the two men. The king was known far and wide as “Longshanks,” a nickname that referred to his towering height. Now his build looked almost frail next to Faulke’s. I had the surprising realization that my father was getting old.
Not that age made him less formidable. He was still the most powerful man in England.
Although I had been a dutiful daughter all my life, some strange instinct made me want to move closer to Faulke, as if he could somehow protect me from the king. What would happen, I wondered, if I repeated Faulke’s barely veiled accusation that my father was somehow involved in Sir Roland’s death?
It bothered me that Faulke’s allegations bore any weight in my mind. He was a near stranger. My father was family. We were tied by blood. Blood ties in a family meant protection.
Faulke was not family, or in any way related to my family. He was to be my partner in a political marriage. He was dangerous, possibly a traitor. It appalled me that I instinctively wanted to turn to him instead of to my own blood. Had I truly learned nothing from my infatuation with Hartman? This infatuation with Segrave was bound to end just as badly.
“Be seated,” Edward said as he took his own seat and returned his attention to my manuscript pages.
I took Gretchen’s stool on the opposite side of the table from my father, and shifted my weight around as the wooden legs sank a little farther into the soft ground.
“I was on a boar hunt when I received word of Sir Roland’s death,” Edward said. He was dressed for the hunt in a forest green tunic, heavy boots, and leather leggings. I supposed I should be flattered that he had cut short his hunt to check on me. “Are there any new developments since Chiavari found Sir Roland’s daughter and her family?”
“None that I have been made aware of,” I said.
Edward nodded and stroked his beard with one hand, from his chin to the middle of his chest. There were only a few strands of silver in his hair, but his beard was almost the opposite, with only a few strands of dark hair among the silver threads. His gaze moved to Faulke. “What are your thoughts on this matter, Segrave?”
“I just learned of the murders,” Faulke said. “If I had known what happened, I would have been here this morning. As it is, I am loath to leave my betrothed unattended where a murder was so easily accomplished. By your leave, my liege, I would move myself and a score of my soldiers into the palace to help ensure your daughter’s safety.”
A twinkle of humor came to my father’s eyes. “There are already more than one hundred knights and soldiers here, sworn to keep her safe. Think you a score more will make a difference?”
“They will be my soldiers,” Faulke said. “I will rest easier if I am at hand and aware of everything that happens in this place.”
“Hm. I will think on the matter.” Edward glanced at Mordecai, and then his gaze returned to Faulke. “I wondered what your reaction would be to the betrothal. Mordecai tells me that you were not entirely pleased with yesterday’s turn of events. I said he must be mistaken. The hand of an English princess in marriage is a gift few men dare to dream will be theirs and even fewer receive.” Edward’s voice became measured and precise. “Is it possible you find something lacking in the terms of your marriage contracts, or do you find something lacking in my daughter?”
“There is nothing lacking in either, my liege,” Faulke said without hesitation. He raked a hand through his hair, looking about as comfortable as a man about to kneel before an axe. “Yesterday we were brought here in chains, with no explanation of what was to happen. Chiavari is not known for his mercy. ’Tis no excuse, but I expected the worst and did not trust that the terms of my new betrothal could be so generous as they sounded. I had no opportunity to speak with my father to learn the full details of the marriage contracts until last evening.”
“I expect that conversation was enlightening,” Edward said, in a way that made me wonder exactly what was in those contracts. I had read the drafts, but was there something added to the final copies?
Faulke spread his hands before him. “Sire, I never expected to win the hand of a woman so far above my station. I hope you will forgive any perceived lack of enthusiasm on my part. I have already received forgiveness from the princess for my behavior yesterday. I hope you will be as generous in your pardon.”
Faulke ended his little speech with a small, lingering bow.
“Is this true?” my father asked me. “Did he apologize to you?”
“He did, my lord.” I wondered what would happen if I had said no. There was an undercurrent of animosity between the two men, a reminder that I was the interloper here, a new voice in an old argument. How ironic that I was still an ausländer, even here in England.
“My liege, may I have your permission to move myself and my men into the palace?” Faulke asked.
Edward looked annoyed by Faulke’s persistence, but inclined his head. “I see no reason to deny your request.”
“Chiavari will object,” Faulke said. “He does not want me near Avalene de Forshay.”
“Ah, of course.” Edward made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Tell him I have granted your request. He will not object.”
“I also intend to participate in the investigation of Sir Roland’s death, sire.”
“Chiavari feels the brother-in-law is responsible,” Edward said. “Do you think differently?”
“I think a murder so close to the princess cannot be examined too thoroughly,” Faulke said.
Edward smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile. “You think you know more about this sort of death than Chiavari?”
My breath caught in my throat. According to Avalene, many thought the death of Faulke’s last wife was the result of poison. Would he incriminate himself by admitting he knew the art of poisons?
Faulke shook his head. “Sir Roland’s death is of less consequence to Chiavari. I will heed his council, but I have more at stake in the outcome of the investigation than he does.”
“Indeed you do.” Edward spread his hands. “It is settled then. You shall move into Ashland Palace and work with Chiavari to bring Sir Roland’s murderer to justice. In the meantime, Isabel,
I have selected a new captain of your English guard. Actually, your cousin Aleric of Almain recommended him to me, one of his former household knights who is now a captain in the royal guard. I am told Sir Crispin is keen to assume his new duties.”
Aleric was a cousin of mine, once or twice removed. He had been granted the wardship of my estates while I was in Rheinbaden, and I had met with him soon after my return to England. By all accounts, including Aleric’s annual reports that were sent to me in Rheinbaden, my estates had prospered during my long absence.
Aleric’s father, Richard, had been considered a financial genius, and Aleric had inherited many of his skills. Having now met him myself, I judged his opinions trustworthy. I felt confident that anyone Aleric recommended would be as competent as Sir Roland.
“We shall make Sir Crispin welcome,” I murmured.
“Excellent,” Edward said. He stood and held out his hand. “Will you walk with me, Daughter?”
“Of course.” I took my father’s arm. The fabric of his sleeve was soft and well worn, and I caught the scent of the woods again. “Where do you wish to walk, my lord?”
“To the gates,” he said, and then he sent one of his guards ahead to fetch his horse. He glanced down at me. “Duties at court require my attention, but I would have a private word with you first.”
We took the path that led to the front gates and I managed to walk without a noticeable limp, although it was painful. When we neared the last of the apple trees, Edward stopped and signaled to his men to continue on ahead of us. He looked me in the eye, a steady gaze I found fascinating, probably because it so closely resembled what I saw in my silvered mirror each morning.
“I would have your true impressions of Segrave,” he said. “Do you find him acceptable?”
I’m sure the surprise showed on my face. “Acceptable?”
Was he giving me some sort of choice in this marriage? My mind raced. I scarcely knew Faulke well enough to know if he was “acceptable,” but I knew him. Avalene had made sure of my education. There was something to be said for the devil you know. His looks were a mark against him, but I had to admit that it was not such a horrible mark.
As for an alternative to Segrave, I might feel occasional bouts of jealousy about my sister, Joan, and her comfortable life in England, but Joan’s husband was even older than our father. I could do much worse than Faulke Segrave.
“He does not seem much like the man described to me by others,” I said at last, trying to be honest. “I expected…well, I am not certain what I expected. From the little time I’ve spent with him, he doesn’t strike me as the sort of man to stir political unrest or encourage a civil war.”
“He has done both,” my father assured me. “Trust me, that side of Segrave will reveal itself in time. He will try to win you over to his cause, of that I have little doubt. You must remember where your loyalties lie, Daughter.”
“With you, of course,” I murmured. It was the right answer, but one that did not feel quite right.
“You can manage the Segraves,” he said. “Remind them that they are Englishmen, and they owe all they have to the crown. Encourage Faulke to visit your English estates. Maldon Castle offers a softer life than what he has known at Hawksforth. The less time he spends in Wales, the better.”
“I will do what I can.”
“You will do what you must,” he corrected. He gave me an assessing look as he stroked his beard. “The Segraves are dangerous. Never forget that fact. I have done what I can to limit their powers and make certain they will cause you no harm, but a chained bear will still strike out when given the chance. They will be looking for weak links in their chains.”
Did he think I would be a weak link? I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin.
“A king sees through many eyes and listens through many ears,” he went on. “The captain of your guard will send me a report each month. I will expect word from you as well in those dispatches.”
“I will be happy to add a few lines to your captain’s reports,” I said, as if I had a choice.
“Excellent, I knew I could count on you.” He tilted his head as he looked down at me. “Do not look so somber, my child. I would spare you such a marriage, but your circumstances have tied my hands.”
I tried to show no emotion as he delivered the bald truth. He was right. I could expect nothing better. Apparently, neither could Faulke.
“This is what is best for the realm,” he went on. “Indeed, your marriage to Segrave could prove even more beneficial to England than your marriage to Rheinbaden.”
“Faulke will be furious when he learns the truth,” I murmured. “I do not relish thoughts of that day.”
“You may do as you wish when that day comes,” he said. “You outrank your husband, you have wealth of your own, and an army of soldiers to bar your husband from whichever of your many estates you choose to occupy. But until that day, you must be a wife in all ways so there is no question that the marriage is legitimate.” He cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “Segrave has a certain reputation with the ladies at court. From all accounts, your marital life will not be unbearable.”
Ach, did everyone know of Faulke’s sexual exploits? I lifted my chin even higher. “I have given you no reason to think I will not do my duty.”
“Perhaps not, but I see in you an understandable lack of enthusiasm,” he said. “I cannot prevent the problems that will eventually arise in your marriage, but you have my word that you will be allowed to live separate from your husband, if the day comes that you find his company intolerable.”
Or, if he found me intolerable, was the unspoken finish to that sentence. Still, this was a royal concession I had never dared hope to gain. I should be happy. Instead my sense of dread only deepened. Faulke Segrave did not strike me as the sort of man who would calmly step aside while his wife deserted him. Then again, he might be glad to be rid of me. Hartman had certainly been relieved.
It was hard to believe, but my second marriage was likely to end up much the same as my first. The irony of the situation almost made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead, I pushed those emotions down deep to be brought out and examined later. “I appreciate your support, sire. I would not like to live with an abusive husband.”
He frowned at me. “You are allowed to call me Father, you know.”
I opened my mouth to reply and then closed it again. What was there to say? It was a name that barely applied. The time I had spent with my parents could be counted in hours. However, he held my future in his hands. It would be foolish to antagonize him. “Forgive me, Father. I intended no offense.”
He gave me a thoughtful look. “You are probably unaware of the suffering your mother endured when we were forced to leave you girls with your grandmother.”
Apparently my thoughts were more transparent than I intended. I tried harder to affect nonchalance.
“I was not made aware,” I admitted, although now I was definitely curious.
He gave a deep sigh. “You should have stayed in England longer, learned more of our customs, and enjoyed more of your childhood before you became a bride.”
“My life was not unpleasant,” I said. “The people of Rheinbaden were kind to me.”
For the most part, I silently amended. My life in Rheinbaden was in the past. It served no purpose to complain of it now. I was more interested in the startling revelations that my parents might have regretted how little affection they afforded me.
“We gave them one of our treasures,” he said in a gruff voice. “Our hopes were that your marriage would become as strong as our own. Your child would have been our first grandchild. We were greatly dismayed to learn of his death. Your mother had a mass said for him each year on the anniversary of his death.”
“I did not know,” I murmured.
“Your mother was sentim
ental about such things.” His expression was distant, as if he were remembering happier times. Then his eyes narrowed. “I fear this marriage will be no easier than your last, Isabel. ’Tis a burden of the royal blood you bear. For the sons and daughters of kings, there is always a political purpose to our unions. Yours is to avert a war and feed the ambitions of the Segraves. They will be so intoxicated with your estates in England that they will be forced to neglect their plots in Wales, at least for the next few years.”
I gave him a skeptical look. “Do you truly believe an earldom and my estates are sufficient motivation to make them step away from their interests in Wales?”
“Child, you have no concept of your wealth.” He shook his head. “You might have fewer riches than if you were still the Crown Princess of Rheinbaden, but you were well compensated in your husband’s will, and your estates in England have prospered in your absence. Aleric employed many good and steady men at Maldon to oversee your interests. Which reminds me. Aleric offered to bring his stewards to meet with you to review the accounts.” He pursed his lips. “ ’Twould be a good show of wifely duty if you also invited Faulke to that meeting. You might as well have him there from the start. Act the part of a dutiful wife, and he will take you into his confidence that much sooner. Give him the impression that you are sharing everything with him, and he will have less reason to suspect there are secrets between you.”
There was nothing between Faulke and me but secrets. Some of his secrets would reveal themselves once we wed. How soon would he learn mine? Secrets and lies—I hated them.
My sigh sounded resigned even to my own ears. There would be no reprieve. I would be wed again. Soon. The little zip of lightning that went through me at the thought of Faulke as my husband was just nerves and dread.
“I must be away,” my father said. He placed his hands on my shoulders and then leaned forward to press a kiss to my brow. His lips were warm and firm against my forehead, but his beard tickled my nose and I tried not to squirm away. “Chiavari will keep me informed about the investigation into Sir Roland’s death, as will Sir Crispin, once he becomes established here.”
The Princess Page 8
