The Princess

by Elizabeth Elliott

  A small muscle ticked along his jaw as he awaited my response.

  “You could have told me,” I said quietly. All the years of deception. The years of feeling less than. Had Hartman truly hated me so much?

  “Hartman swore me to secrecy,” he said. “He was family. I swore my allegiance to his service when I first became a knight, and the knowledge of Maria’s children would have changed nothing for you.”

  He was wrong. The entire country had blamed me for the lack of an heir. There would have been no heir, regardless, but Hartman could have shared the blame. My head was spinning, not only from the wine, but from all the lies.

  “I hoped you would never learn the truth,” Gerhardt admitted, staring at me in earnest, silently begging my forgiveness. “If a miracle occurs and you bear this man a child, it will be God’s will and cause for celebration.”

  I did not feel like celebrating right now. I couldn’t even allow myself to think about that possibility. “Did Gretchen know?”

  “Of course not,” Gerhardt said. “She would have told you the moment she found out.”

  At least one of my people was loyal. I took another drink of wine as I considered what to do with my newfound knowledge. Gerhardt had truly been like an older brother. I had entrusted all of us to his care. He had charge of the soldiers, the head servants reported to him, every cog in the wheel that was my household had a place fitted for him.

  “Forgive me, Princess. I never meant for you to be hurt.”

  I couldn’t even look at him. All the years I had blamed myself, the mistresses I had put up with because I thought myself less of a woman and Hartman still a whole man. Years. And Gerhardt wanted my forgiveness?

  “Can I at least know who betrayed me?” he asked. “How did you discover the truth, all the way in England?”

  “A dead master’s servant is easily bought,” Faulke said when I remained silent. “Maria’s servants also confirmed the tale, when confronted with the truth and a bag of silver.”

  I had wondered how the Segraves managed what I could not, and uncovered a secret that had remained hidden even from my father. Keeping secrets from the king, even in faraway Rheinbaden, was no easy feat.

  “Princess, please,” Gerhardt entreated. “I am still your man, I have no more secrets, and my loyalty will remain with you until I die.”

  Pretty words, spoken too late. When I sent Gerhardt away, my household would be in shambles. If Count Otto had his way, all of my people would soon be leaving for Rheinbaden, which meant my household would be in shambles regardless. And then there was that journey to Wales that Faulke was keen to make. Would my father force me to go with Faulke? My imagination simply shut down when I tried to envision that journey. I took another drink of wine.

  “Leave us,” Faulke ordered while I was still lost in my musings. “The princess will let you know your fate on the morrow. Tonight she has other matters to contemplate.”

  It was an unwelcome reminder that I still had Faulke’s anger to somehow appease.

  “Princess, please—” Gerhardt tried again.

  “Leave.” The dark undertone in Faulke’s voice made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Gerhardt wisely decided to retreat.

  I gulped the last of my wine and pretended not to notice his exit. Except it wasn’t the last of my wine. My goblet was full. Again. I wondered how often Faulke had refilled it. Not that it mattered. Gerhardt was gone. My secrets were out. I could afford to let myself be drunk. It made me care less what Faulke thought of me. I stared down at my watery reflection in the goblet, fascinated by the way my breath made little waves on the surface.

  “So, you played my father and me for fools,” I said, feeling dangerously bold. I lifted my glass to salute him. “Congratulations. Well done.”

  Faulke eyed my goblet, then picked up his own before he sat down next to me. His expression was unreadable. “Your father had the same goal. He wanted us wed before I learned that Maria had children, supposedly Hartman’s children, while you remained childless all these years.”

  “Hah. The laugh is on my father. He might end up with a very expensive grandchild out of me after all!” Judging by the look on Faulke’s face, my smile might have been a bit maniacal. I took another swallow of wine, and admitted to myself that I was more than a little drunk.

  “We thought you were aware of Maria’s deception,” he went on, watching me carefully. “You have lived for years under the same roof as the man who fathered the children your husband claimed were his own bastards, and that man’s sister is your closest friend. I have known from the start that there was a possibility you could give me a child. If you thought the possibility existed but had no way of proving it short of committing adultery, I would have forgiven your silence on the matter.”

  I stared at his mouth and tried to understand the words he was saying. I loved his mouth. I loved the way his lips moved, the way he rubbed his mouth when he was frustrated. I loved the way his mouth softened when he said my name.

  “Isabel, are you listening to me?”

  “Aye.” I shook my head.

  He frowned. “How much wine have you had?”

  “Not enough,” I said before I took another swallow. “This is very good. I’ll have to ask Reginald to serve this wine every night.”

  He took my goblet and put it back on the table when I would have taken another sip. I frowned up at him.

  “You and your father tried to deceive me,” he said. His gaze hardened, grew distant. “It’s not my fault if you were caught in the web of your lies.”

  “No, it’s not,” I agreed. I tilted my head to one side. “You had already planned what you intended to say to the king about your daughters’ betrothals.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway. “I intended to wait a year after our marriage before I approached your father. If you didn’t quicken with child, I would ask for the concessions. When I realized you and your father were unaware of Hartman’s deception, I decided to ask for the betrothals to be arranged while he still might be feeling some measure of guilt about his intent to deceive me.”

  “You weren’t deceived though.” I heard a giggle, and realized it came from me. Faulke’s expression was still stormy. I cleared my throat and tried to be serious. “Why did you even agree to our marriage? After you spoke with your father, you even seemed happy about it. Was that a lie, too? Everyone is lying to me these days, or not telling me things I should know. ’Tis frustrating.”

  “You were lying, too,” he reminded me. “At least, you thought you were lying.”

  “Oh, aye, the joke is on me.” I slapped my hands against my chest. “I was lying about a lie I didn’t know about. I think.” I shook my head and tried to clear it. “How did that go again?”

  He took the goblet out of my hand again and put it out of my reach on the table.

  “I’m thirsty.”

  All four of his eyes narrowed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  I propped my elbows on the table, put my chin in my hands, and pouted at the unreachable goblet. “I don’t care that you don’t like me. Why do you even want to stay married to me? I probably can’t have your children anyway, so you might as well give up on me now, rather than next year or the year after.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?” I dragged my gaze from the goblet and was soon drowning in a sapphire sea. I loved his eyes so much, almost as much as his mouth. His eyes were so…so…

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

  I sat up straighter in my chair and tried to look offended. “I have never felt sorry for myself a day in my life. Well, I might have felt sorry for myself for an hour or two here and there, but it doesn’t accomplish anything. I’d rather not care. I tried not to care for you.”

  His mouth tilted up in a wry smile. Or maybe my head tilted. “Do yo
u care for me then, Isabel?”

  Ach, I loved the shape of his mouth when he said my name. He caught my hand just before my fingertips touched his lips. To my delight, he turned my hand over and kissed my wrist. I think I shivered. “That feels delicious.”

  His eyes turned a darker shade of blue. “Do you like it when I touch you?”

  “I like almond comfits,” I said, deciding to list everything I found delicious. “And I like that wine. Remind me to ask Reginald to get more for dinner each night. Mm. Delicious.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  I saw no reason to argue. “You are, too?”

  For some reason, he smiled. “No. I shouldn’t have refilled your goblet so often, but I thought you needed fortification for Gerhardt’s news.”

  “Fortification, aye.” I gave my abandoned goblet a baleful look. “Everyone knew but me.”

  He shook his head. “Very few knew until Hartman died. You were never meant to know. If Hartman had lived, it would probably still be a secret.”

  “You’re right!” That sounded too loud. I cleared my throat and tried to moderate my tone. “I would still be stupid.”

  That wasn’t right, but I couldn’t think of the right thing to say, and it suddenly felt too complicated to think about it anymore.

  “This might be the time to tell you the rest.”

  “There’s more?” I rubbed the space between my eyes. “Are there other children?”

  “Nay, it’s about the same children,” he said. “Actually, it’s about Hartman’s only child.”

  “Hartman the Younger?” I asked.

  Faulke nodded. “Hartman was granted an audience with the pope. He had planned a trip to Rome only a week after his death.”

  I frowned at him, unable to think why the pope would want to see Hartman. At least, not before he inherited the throne.

  “He was negotiating an annulment, Isabel. The preliminaries were done, if the papers our spy saw were genuine. Your marriage would have been annulled within the year.”

  I blinked once and stared down at the table. There was a knot in the wood right in front of me. I used my fingertip to trace the whorl. “He wanted to marry Maria.”

  “Aye, he planned to marry Maria and adopt her children. Hartman’s natural son would have become his heir. Hartman’s brother, Albert, would surely contest the line of succession, but that was the plan.”

  If an annulment had happened, I would have been sent back to England in shame. That was a sobering thought. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Maria’s uncle is obviously your enemy, and he is likely here in part to look for revenge. They have already demanded that your people return to Rheinbaden. You need to prepare yourself for every other possibility.”

  “I don’t want to see them,” I admitted. I shuddered a little. “I definitely don’t want to be left alone with any of them.”

  He put his hand on mine to stop me tracing the knot of wood with my fingertip. It was instantly distracting.

  “I am your husband now, Isabel. I will be at your side throughout this visit from Count Otto. Do not go anywhere without me while they are in town. Promise me.”

  I nodded solemnly. “I promise me.”

  He smiled. “I will remind you of this conversation tomorrow.”

  “Promise you won’t leave me alone with them.”

  His smile faded. “Perhaps you will not need a reminder after all.”

  “Why didn’t you ask my father for an annulment? Why did you even marry me in the first place?” I rubbed my hands across my eyes and tried to concentrate. “You knew before we married that we are unlikely to have children. Why would you risk everything for such a slim possibility?”

  He leaned back in his chair and studied the knot of wood on the table. He took so long to answer that I had mostly forgotten my question.

  “Two dead wives at my age was suspicious,” he said. “At three, I became notorious. We could restore our family honor with the might of the Plantagenet name and its wealth behind us. My daughters could marry into good families. And we would still have more wealth than any bride had brought to our family. Wealth buys influence.”

  He gave me a meaningful look that was lost on my hazy brain.

  “My father, Anselm, is now the sheriff of Maldon,” he went on. “Your brother, the future king of England, lives in Langley, a short distance from Maldon. My father plans to make his presence known to Giles of Oudenarde, who is charged with the management of your brother’s household.

  “I predict that he and my father will become fast friends, and my father will become a familiar figure in your brother’s life. Now that our families are connected through marriage, my father’s presence will not only be tolerated but likely encouraged. Then there is the fact that your father is not a young man, and the lines of his subjects’ inheritances can be changed on a king’s whims. Or on a future king’s whims.”

  He leaned back and took a long drink from his goblet. His continued silence finally penetrated my senses and I realized the story had ended.

  “So, your father hopes my brother will change the terms of our marriage when my father dies?”

  “My father views this opportunity as his calling and duty to England, to take a hand in the education of our next king,” he said. “There is no one better suited to teach a prince the rigors of knighthood, as well as the skills he will need to become a leader. My father’s skills will be more useful to the future king than Giles of Oudenarde’s knowledge of how to balance household ledgers. If that relationship also benefits my family, all the better.”

  “I see.” And I did, sort of.

  “Without you,” Faulke continued, “my reputation is such that no one would willingly tie their daughter to me. My infamy has spread to my daughters, and I could not secure adequate husbands for them, either. Our marriage has already changed my family’s situation for the better.”

  And I was just a pawn in a game Faulke played with my father. However, the only blame I could lay at Faulke’s door was his claim to be falling in love with me. That was cruel.

  “Our marriage was your best course of action.” I released a little sigh, feeling sorry for myself again. “You will want to try for an heir, I suppose.”

  Faulke just lifted his brows and stared at me. Either I had shocked him, or he had not yet considered the awkwardness of our future intimacies. As in, there would be no more intimate moments. Those had all been lies. We would be back to doing a duty.

  I tried not to think about how horrible that would be, knowing I was once again nothing but a brood mare. At least with Hartman I hadn’t known it could have been so much more than an unpleasant duty. I began to feel slightly nauseous.

  Faulke cleared his throat. “What do you plan to do about your captain?”

  For a moment, I had forgotten all about Gerhardt. It was an unwelcome reminder that Faulke was not my only problem.

  “Gerhardt was a member of my family.” I rested my chin on my hands, depressed again. “He was like a brother to me. A brother with a very pointy sword and a strong arm to swing it.”

  “You have my pointy sword now,” he reminded me, “but do not be so quick to dismiss Gerhardt. His loyalties were divided. In the end, he tried to take the road that would cause you the least trouble.”

  My head was beginning to ache just thinking about the days to come. Gerhardt. Gretchen and Richard. Count Otto and his odious son, Leopold. Faulke. Mostly Faulke. How was I supposed to act, now that he knew the truth? I had played out this moment so often in my head. He wasn’t reacting in any of the ways I had anticipated. Maybe if I put my head down on the table for a few minutes and rested, my thoughts would clear.

  “Let’s get you to bed.”

  That announcement woke me up. I sat up straight and the panic must have shown in my expression.r />
  “You had too much to drink, Isabel.” He stood and snagged my wrist to drag me up as well. “A good night’s sleep will do you good.”

  I looked toward the door, wondering if he planned to sleep in his own quarters tonight. “I’ll send for my ladies.”

  “I can manage to get you into bed.” He glanced down at the gray cashmere and his gaze seemed glued to my chest. “You are hardly dressed as it is. From now on, I don’t want you to wear this for anyone but me. Unless you want bloodshed. Walter de Gardanne stared at your breasts so much I was ready to blind him.”

  The thought was fleeting that my gown might have been the reason for his foul mood at dinner. That thought was gone as I suddenly had to concentrate on standing up without falling over. Ach. “I am drunk!”

  There was a rumbly sound in Faulke’s chest, but I was clinging to his chest at the time and didn’t dare look up to see if he was smiling. A smile probably would have made me mad. Why, I wasn’t sure.

  “You are very drunk,” Faulke confirmed, steering me toward my bedchamber.

  The floor had suddenly taken on a life of its own, tilting and dipping as much as the ship we’d taken from Calais to London.

  “Something is wrong,” I gasped, almost tripping us both. “The floor is moving!”

  “I would imagine it is,” he agreed.

  He steered us into my bedchamber and I collapsed onto the bed. There was some tugging and pulling, and then I drifted into the sweet oblivion of sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Trust

  The birds woke me the next morning. Chirp, chirp, chirp, sing, sing, sing. It was maddening. I pulled the goose-down pillow over my head and wished that someone would shoo the birds away from my window. “Mein kopf, mach, dass es aufhört!”