“I thought to surprise you,” Faulke told me. “It was a surprise to the girls as well.”
“Well, I am surprised.” I leaned closer and whispered so only he would hear. “Do they know about our wedding?”
“Aye, they are well aware of who you are.”
I glanced at the girls again. Lucy was playing with the strings on her maid’s bonnet, Jane seemed more fascinated by her doll than by anyone else in the room, and Claire was staring daggers at me. Lucy was too young to carry on a conversation, and Claire looked like she would be a challenge, so I decided to start in the middle.
“Have you named your doll, Mistress Jane?” I asked.
Startled, Jane glanced up at me, and then seemed too frightened to look away. “Aye, m-my lady—Princess.”
Claire reached out to clasp her sister’s hand, which seemed to calm Jane. That small show of comfort made me think there was hope for Claire.
I kept my voice low and even. “Would you share her name with me?”
“M-Mistress Buttons.” Jane moved closer to her sister.
“Mistress Buttons’s friends are very pretty,” I said honestly. Faulke’s oldest girls were exceptionally handsome, and Lucy was cute in a babyish sort of fashion. Having had a description of Lucy’s mother from Avalene, and looking at Claire’s and Jane’s obvious likeness to their father, Lucy certainly did not favor her mother, or her supposed father. Faulke had claimed Lucy, but she was in no way his.
I stole a glance at him. Most men would have kept Lucy separate from her sisters. From what I had heard, Faulke treated Lucy no differently than Jane or Claire. I’m not sure why that bit of charity warmed my heart, but it did. Perhaps because I had once been an unwanted child, and no one had fought to keep me. No matter what the gossips said about him, I knew that deep down, Faulke was a good man.
I looked back at Jane. “Is this Mistress Buttons’s first trip to the city?”
“Aye, my—Princess. None of us have been to London before.” She glanced at Faulke. “Except my father, of course. He goes to court to meet with the king.”
“And what does Mistress Buttons think of London so far?”
Jane clutched the doll tighter. “ ’Tis very big. And smelly. And the streets are dirty.”
Lucy made an odd baby sound and then yelled, “Cup!”
The maid holding her tried unsuccessfully to shush the girl.
“Cup!” Lucy yelled again, pointing to a goblet sitting next to Hilda. She made a few more noises, and then continued to yell. “Cup, cup, cup!”
“Forgive me,” the maid shouted over Lucy, who was now sobbing and wailing ‘cup’ every now and again. “I will take the girl to the kitchens, if someone will show me the way.”
Faulke nodded to one of his soldiers, who hurried to escort the maid and screaming child from the solar. We all listened to the fading sobs as if transfixed.
“Pardon the girl,” Faulke said with a chagrined expression. “She is obviously very young and does not yet know how to conduct herself in adult company.”
I waved my hand in a casual dismissal. “And what of you, Lady Claire?” I asked her. “How do you find London?”
“I am Mistress Claire.” She sat up straighter and remembered to glare. “And I hate London. I want to go home.”
“You are aware that your father will assume my titles when we wed? He will become an earl,” I reminded her. “That will make you a lady, and a step-granddaughter of the king. I would advise you to become accustomed to the responsibilities of that title.”
Claire’s expression turned mutinous, and she muttered something unintelligible. She poked the toe of her slipper at a corner of a rush mat near her foot. “I still don’t like London. ’Tis dirty and smelly.”
“Parts of the city are both,” I agreed, “but it can be a fascinating place. We shall visit Westminster before you leave, and walk the London Bridge to watch the boats on the Thames. Perhaps we could also introduce you to my father and tour the Tower, although I daresay he will leave London soon. Troubles in the north, I hear.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “You would introduce us to the king? At court?”
“Not at court,” I clarified, recalling Lucy’s screeches. “I would request a private audience, but the king is a very busy man. I can make no guarantee that he will have time for us before he leaves.”
“But you will try?” Claire persisted.
“Claire,” Faulke said in a warning tone, drawing out her name.
I tilted my head and made her wait for my answer. “Aye. I will try.”
Claire had the grace to blush. “Thank you, Princess.”
“Have you been to any of the guild streets yet?” I asked.
Claire gave her father an uncertain look. “Guild streets?”
“Aye, the streets where guilds sell their wares,” I explained. “Baker’s Lane is a particular favorite of mine. You can find any pastry you ever desired there, and some you never knew existed.” I gave her an exaggerated examination. “You will all need new gowns, now that you will be ladies. We could visit Weavers Lane to pick out fabric, and then go on to Mercers Street for belts and headbands, and the cordwainers for slippers.”
Claire looked again at her father. “Could we do that, Papa?”
“We will make a day of it,” Faulke said, spreading his hands to encompass Jane and her maid. “I suspect we could even find a new stuffed friend for Mistress Buttons.”
It was Jane’s turn for her eyes to widen. She looked at her father. “Mistress Buttons would like to have a new friend, Papa.”
“ ’Tis decided then,” Faulke announced. “We shall soon spend an entire day shopping in the city, but the princess and I have business at court we must attend to first. No nagging your maids in the meantime or we won’t go at all. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Papa,” both girls answered in unison.
“Excellent.” He nodded toward Richard. “Now you must go with Cousin Richard to see your new quarters. Your new mother and I have plans we must discuss. I will rejoin you in time to walk you to the great hall for dinner.”
The girls were less enthusiastic about the prospect of leaving their father. They bobbed awkward curtseys, their faces masks of exaggerated misery. Not that I cared about their pouts. I was too distracted, still thrown off balance by Faulke’s reference to me as their mother. I was a mother now. A mother!
“I should not have surprised you,” Faulke said when the children were gone.
“Everything worked out,” I said, thinking about the shops I wanted to take them to.
“What is your impression of my girls?”
“They are lovely,” I said honestly. “Will you really accompany us on a shopping excursion around the city?”
“I had planned just such an outing, but hadn’t gotten around to telling them about it,” he said. His eyes were very blue, and he rested his hand on top of mine on my thigh. His thumb began to brush a pattern against my skin. “We can go tomorrow, if you would like.”
I nodded an agreement, even though I scarcely heard him. I was too distracted by the feel of his hand against mine, the leisurely pattern he traced on my skin. Was he even aware that he was doing it?
He took my hand in his and stood, pulling me up with him. “Come. Let’s take a walk in the gardens.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Changes
At first I thought the garden walk was simply an excuse to find a private place to kiss. Instead we talked. We walked and talked for hours. Conversation flowed and the world outside the garden ceased to exist.
He told me more about his childhood, how he and Richard had constantly competed, and the time they had joined forces to trick the stable master into thinking all of the hounds had escaped. The two boys sounded like they were a handful. Several times he started to laugh before he could t
ell me what he was laughing about, which made me laugh, which made him laugh even harder. He spoke with such affection for his family and his people that I became even more certain that he would never purposely harm anyone in his care.
Somewhere on that journey to nowhere, the butterflies in my stomach stopped fluttering for the most dangerously handsome man in existence, and began to take wing for Faulke Segrave, the man.
Fortunately, he only told me of happy memories, so my dreamy smile was probably appropriate most of the time. Other times, my smile would fade of its own accord when his eyes would glaze over in the midst of recalling some adventure, especially when his now-absent mother was involved. I knew somehow that those were not happy memories, and I found myself wanting to somehow comfort him.
I was not a comforting type of woman, but with Faulke, I wanted to make him forget the unpleasant memories. Whenever he looked somber, I changed the subject, usually by telling him about one of my childhood adventures with Gretchen. We were not nearly as adventurous as Faulke and Richard, but we played our share of pranks on our maids and on the other children at court. The stories reminded me that not all or even most of my time in Rheinbaden had been unpleasant. I had many good memories of my years there.
We looked at each other as we talked. Really looked. His gaze moved over my face, returned to my eyes, took in my hair, moved lower to the neckline of my gown, and then returned to my face to start the journey all over again. I felt as if he was cataloguing each of my features and expressions, because I was doing the same in return. The few small flaws I inventoried didn’t surprise me.
There was the scar through his eyebrow, of course, but that only made him look more dangerous. That eyebrow was also a little higher than the other. His hair could use a good trim. Sometimes he made a sound when he laughed that was just as ridiculous as my donkey bray when I laughed too hard. I almost cherished those small flaws, because they made me realize I was no longer blinded by the façade of perfection. Yes, he was handsome, but he was also funny, frustrating, bossy, and intelligent. Most of all, he was mine. And I wanted to keep him.
I thought about all the women in his past, all of the obstacles in our future, and realized these moments of happiness with him would be fleeting. I felt equal measures of gratitude and anger toward my father for putting Faulke in my life. I felt guilty for deceiving him, but at the same time, I enjoyed my time with him so much that I could not bring myself to ruin things between us. I wished that we could go on forever as these two people in the garden, that we could live a long and happy life at Ashland Palace. Sometimes I could forget, but deep down I knew that another heartbreaking lesson lurked just around the corner.
“What is that look for?”
His voice seemed to come from very far away. I blinked once to clear my thoughts, and realized I had been staring at him in silence. I looked around at the greenery where we sat near a bed of yarrow, and realized I had stared at him long enough for it to be strange, even between us. It wasn’t one of our odd staring-contest stares, but had instead been an unseeing gaze that took my thoughts to dark places.
“Will you make me a promise?” I asked, the hesitancy in my voice revealing my uncertainty.
Wariness replaced his earlier unguarded expression. “This sounds serious. What must I promise?”
“You have a reputation at court with the women there,” I began, watching his face harden. “I don’t want to know them.”
He tilted his head to look down at me, his expression guarded and neutral. “I’m not certain I understand your meaning.”
“Your women,” I said, waving a dismissive hand as if they meant little to me. Just the thought of them made my hands want to ball into fists. “I do not want to be introduced to them, I don’t want to speak with them by accident if I don’t know who they are, and I don’t want any of them under the same roof where I sleep.”
“Isabel, those women are in my past.” He reached for my hands and gently squeezed them until the fingers unclenched, then he held them between us. He waited until I looked up at him, then he stroked one finger along my cheek. “I spoke the truth the other day.”
“Hm?” I tried to hold on to the conversation, but that small touch unbalanced me.
“When I said that I could think of no other woman but you.” He gave me a slow smile and I forgot what we were talking about. “You are the only woman I want, Isabel. ’Tis a blessing we are betrothed, for I would want you even if I couldn’t have you.”
His head dipped down and his lips captured mine for a sweet kiss that made me want to take his shirt off. I felt suddenly aggressive, unsatisfied by the chaste kiss. I moved closer to press against him, but he lifted his head.
“What about you?”
I blinked once. “What about me?”
“Surely you had men pursue you in Rheinbaden? Men who caught your eye.”
“Nay, never,” I answered absently as I stared at his mouth and wondered how I could get him to kiss me again.
He put his hands on my shoulders in a firm but gentle grip when I tried to lean toward him. “You and Hartman were separated for many years,” he said. “I find it hard to believe that no man ever pressed his suit with you.”
“None did.” I frowned, remembering. “Well, one set his men upon me and there was a lot of bloodshed as a result. No one tried again, after that.”
I tried to lean into him again, but his muscles suddenly felt like marble. His hands were firm on my shoulders and he held me away until I looked up at him. His eyes narrowed.
“Who set his men on you?”
I cleared my throat and leaned back, trying to judge his sudden anger. It looked contained, but simmering.
“His name is Leopold von Tyrol, the cousin of Hartman’s favorite mistress, Maria. Leopold was a great favorite in the tournaments, but there were always rumors about his cruelty. He and his men stopped at Grunental on their way home from a tourney, and asked to be granted hospitality. I had no good excuse to bar him from the castle, although I wanted to.”
“He tried to seduce you?” Faulke’s voice was close to a growl.
“I knew better than to provide an opportunity,” I said. “He has a reputation for preying upon women, so I dismissed all of my female servants and ladies, and had only men serve in the great hall that evening. I had expected some sort of argument about the insult to his honor. His unusually proper behavior made me wary.”
Faulke’s jaw looked as if it were made from granite. I stopped talking, trying to decide how to tell him what happened next. His voice was firm. “Finish the story.”
“Perhaps it would be best if I tell you the version related to me by one of my spies.” I looked unseeing at a spot over his shoulder and tapped my chin, remembering. “In those days, I had spies everywhere in Rheinbaden, including a knight in the von Tyrol household. My spy there did not yet realize what had happened at Grunental, but he overheard every word of Leopold’s report to his father when he returned home.
“By his own words, Leopold went to Grunental with the express purpose of compromising my honor. His cousin Maria wanted to marry Hartman, and she believed that would happen if Hartman became a widower, and the von Tyrols would have closer ties to the crown if they helped make that happen.
“In Rheinbaden as here in England, a crown princess or a queen is put to death for treason if she is caught in bed with a man who is not her husband. However, the man caught with me would be executed as well. Leopold was not stupid enough to sacrifice his own life for his cousin’s schemes. Instead he recruited two disreputable knights to his company, men whose taste for rape might have surpassed his own.”
“What did Leopold do to you?” Faulke asked. I glanced up and realized he was not merely angry. There was murder in his eyes.
“I am getting to that part,” I said. “But I should tell you now that I was not physically
hurt in any way.”
He raised his brows. “Continue.”
“Aye, well, Leopold had convinced the two knights that he could shield them from any consequences of their actions. That night, Leopold made sure the two knights drank more than the rest, and stoked their fury by questioning my right to deny them the comforts of a few comely women.”
Faulke stood and began to pace, but he motioned for me to keep talking.
“Someone needed to teach me a lesson, and of course they encouraged Leopold to be that man. But he said the lesson would come better from a knight, rather than a nobleman near my rank. He had coached his own men to agree with him, but to raise concerns about losing their heads. Then one of Leopold’s knights argued that I would never let it be known that I had been bedded by lowly knights. It would be a right and fitting lesson.
“Leopold had his own spies, and he knew that I did not post guards at my door at night, and only my two ladies slept in my chambers. Gretchen was at court with Gerhardt to attend their brother’s wedding, so they expected only Lady Hilda and me to be there. The two knights would enter my rooms and subdue Hilda while they took their turns with me. Leopold and his men would stand guard in the hallway.
“In reality, Leopold waited until the two knights entered my apartment, and then they left for the great hall to rouse some of my soldiers. They claimed that the two knights had been drunk and talked about accosting me, and now they were missing and Leopold feared the worst. He took the soldiers back to my apartment where Leopold had already planned to slay the two knights immediately for being in my quarters. He wanted my soldiers as well as his own knights to stand as witnesses to my crime of allowing myself to be raped.
“What Leopold didn’t count on was my complete distrust of his reasons for being at Grunental in the first place, and his strange behavior at dinner. I had the most vulnerable women moved into my apartments that night and more men set inside to guard the doors. The two knights and one of my men were already dead by the time Leopold arrived. Of course, he disavowed any knowledge of his two knights’ intents. He even pretended to take offense that I would dare question him.” I ended my story with a shrug. “Leopold’s quarters were put under guard for the remainder of the night, and they left in the morning.”
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