Betrayal (Book 2: Time Enough to Love) (12 page)

“And pray, gentles, what was your quarrel?”

Thomas froze. Damn. He raised his head, wary.

Joanna stood and walked slowly toward them, regal as never before. She waited, but neither man spoke and the silence lengthened.

At last, Thomas could stand it no longer. “’Twas a debt of honor I sought to settle, Your Highness.” As close to the truth as he cared to go.

Joanna’s eyes narrowed. “You think me a fool, Lord Braeton? That I do not know the cause of this brawl? Alyse is as dear to me as anyone I have ever known. I will not have her harmed nor slandered. No breath of scandal will I allow, either here on this ship, or in
Bordeaux, or in Castile where my betrothed prince awaits me. Mark me, lords, for you have sorely tried my patience this day.”

Joanna drew herself up to her full height. Indeed, her mantle of righteous indignation made her appear even taller and more imposing. “Have a care for your further actions, my lords. The hold of this ship has a prison where you can both reside until we reach
Bordeaux.” With this pronouncement, the princess sailed out of the room, remarking imperiously, “Remain here.”

The afternoon dragged like a stubborn mule. They talked haltingly, Thomas painfully aware that the amity they used to enjoy had become strained. No topic presented itself that did not in some way lead to mention of Alyse. After several starts and abrupt stops, they settled on memories of a time before she entered their lives. Even then the tension remained. Desperate, Thomas was about to suggest a game of chess when the door opened and Geoffrey’s wife entered the room.

Thomas had not seen Mary since that night in June when he had delivered the frightened girl to her bridegroom. Now fear seemed a thing of the past. She ran excitedly toward them, her eyes sparkling with some glad tidings. They surely needed such today.

“Good morrow, Lord Braeton.” She bobbed a curtsy to him then turned to her husband, her smile almost too big for her face. “Sir Geoffrey, have you heard the news?”

Geoffrey stared at her, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Nay, madam, I have heard aught this day. Pray, what tidings have enlivened you so this afternoon?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow to Geoffrey, who shook his head. The amazement on his friend’s face at his wife’s bright demeanor brought a chuckle to his lips. According to their conversation during the long afternoon, Mary had, from the beginning of the marriage, been obedient, quiet, and pliant, seeming to try to escape her husband’s notice at all times. A different woman now stood before them, cheeks flushed with excitement, eyes alive and shining.

She laughed and looked up at Geoffrey with a charming smile that he returned. Mayhap the man would turn to his own wife now.

“I am to be one of Princess Joanna’s waiting women, Sir Geoffrey! The princess has asked that I leave my duties in the chapel and attend her, at least until the end of the voyage. So I will be out among company at last. I have missed it so!” Mary fairly danced on her toes, so great was her pleasure at her change of status.

That elation came to a sudden halt. Her eyes widened and some of the color left her cheeks. “My lord, I meant not that I despaired at being only in your company!” Fear replaced the joy Mary’s eyes.

Geoffrey took her hand gently and kissed it. “Nay, Mary, I took your words not so. Certainly this is great news, for I know you have longed to take your place in Princess Joanna’s court. Indeed, I am happy for you, wife.”

Her face again took on the radiant happiness of before.

“Are you to wait with us here, Mary?” Geoffrey secured her other hand, and a blush crept into her face.

“Oh, nay, my lord. Her Highness bid me tell you we are to attend her at the evening meal, and I was to fetch you directly lest we keep the company waiting.” Mary all but glowed as she delivered the rest of her news.

“Then by all means, my lady, we must make haste to the feast.” Geoffrey smiled at her obvious delight then raised an eyebrow at Thomas.

He grinned back then made his bow as the couple swept out of the room.

Alone, Thomas grew thoughtful, his mind turning to the next large obstacle—facing his wife. He groaned at the memory of the morning’s confrontation. At the time, he had meant every word and more. However, the interview with Geoffrey, and the day’s forced confinement with his friend, had cooled his emotions until reason once again ruled.

Reason told him this night would be a long one.

She feared him now. He slumped hopelessly in a chair. If he had had any hope of
bringing her willingly to him, ’twas gone now. Fool!

Furious with his lack of control this morning, he gripped the chair’s arms so he would not break his hand on the smooth planks of the wall.

Well, if his bed was cold for the rest of his life, he had no one to blame for it but himself.

That was not even the worst of it, for he had never had trouble finding a winsome wench to share his bed. No, much as he wanted to lie with Alyse, he valued her friendship and trust more. And that loss grieved him most. He had to find some way to make amends and move ahead with their lives.

He wandered about the small chamber, trying to distract himself from those dismal musings. A smile flitted across his face as he recalled Lady Mary’s excitement. At least someone would be happy this evening. During their conversation that afternoon, Geoffrey had mentioned that the couple had been sequestered during the voyage. Mary’s duties with the princess’s chaplain had kept her occupied in the makeshift chapel during the days, and meals had been taken in their chamber. Away from the rest of the court.

Had the princess tried to spare Alyse’s feelings at being in close quarters with Geoffrey’s wife? If that were true, Mary’s words indicated a sea change in Her Highness’s regard for his own wife. She would now have to serve alongside the woman who had taken her place. Another trial she could lay at his feet.

Before he could berate himself any further, the chamber door opened and Princess Joanna entered, still accompanied by Sir Robert. Thomas made his bow then straightened as she waved Sir Robert to a corner and drew Thomas to her for a private word. “Lord Braeton, what occurred this morning was reprehensible, both on your part and on Sir Geoffrey’s. I am most displeased with your actions, although I think I understand them. Jealously is an ugly thing, especially when unwarranted. I beg you to trust Alyse. She has true regard for you, despite what she may still feel for Sir Geoffrey.”

Joanna smiled at him. “I think it would take little to woo her, my lord, if you are not indifferent to her. At one time she favored you above all others, I recall. But whether or not you two share a tender regard, Alyse must accept her marriage. You and Lady Braeton will be confined to your chamber until the ship docks in
Bordeaux. Spend that time with your wife, Lord Braeton, and make her happy.” With a wave of her hand, the princess dismissed him and left the privy-chamber.

Thoroughly confounded, Thomas paced the room. How was he to make his wife happy when he had just this morning instilled fear in her?

“Come, Lord Braeton, I am to accompany you to your chamber at the princess’s behest.” Sir Robert laughed.

’Sblood!

Thomas had forgotten the man in the corner. How much of his conversation with the princess would be repeated at table tonight? He supposed it served him right, though he would try to play it off as well as possible should he meet any of the courtiers.

“Then lead on, sir.” He gave Sir Robert a leering smile. “My wife awaits.”

With a studied composure he did not feel, he followed the chancellor down the gangway toward his cabin. At the door he bade the man farewell, paused to collect his wits, and, taking a deep breath, opened the door.

It had taken Alyse much longer than she had expected to repair the damage done both to her appearance and her spirits after Thomas left their cabin. The sun stood high in the sky when she finally entered the princess’s audience chamber. Resisting the urge to slink into the room, she held her head high, as became one of her station, and walked calmly into the crowded chamber.

Despite the late hour, Princess Joanna was not in evidence. Whether that boded ill or not, Alyse could not imagine. Immediately on her guard, she moved toward Lady Maurya, deep in conference with her husband. She smiled at them, as usual, and made her curtsy.

“Good morrow, Lady Maurya, Sir John. The princess was not indisposed this morning, I hope?” She prayed her own tardiness had not been remarked upon, though she knew full well it was an empty hope.

“Nay, Lady Alyse.” Sir John spoke before his wife could respond. He shot a warning look at Maurya that spoke to Alyse as well. An uneasy feeling descended on her, and she trembled inside as he continued.

“Princess Joanna summoned…two courtiers into her privy-chamber regarding a private dispute.” Sir John would not meet her eyes, an ill omen. “Her only attendant is Sir Robert Bouchier. We are all quite at a loss as to what has occurred.”

Maurya wrung her hands and seemed as though she would speak, but a determined glare from her husband held her silent.

Alyse smiled, but her hopes sank. She would wager her life on which two courtiers had been summoned.

She sent a covert glance around the crowded room. Members of the retinue huddled together in knots of twos and threes, peering curiously at her then resuming their muted conversations. From their pointed stares, she suspected the so-called “private dispute” was connected with the dire events of this morning.

She had to know what had happened.

Taking Maurya’s hand, she whispered, “I beg of you, tell me what—”

The privy-chamber door opened, and Princess Joanna stepped into the room. Alyse sank down to the ground in a curtsy. All around her the hum of conversation halted as the courtiers made their obeisance. Still, the prickles on her neck told her they watched her.

When she rose, Alyse sought the princess’s face, but could read nothing there except irritation. Joanna took her seat by the window. The bright sunlight cascaded over her soft brown hair and made the gold of her gown glow as though lit from within. She looked every inch the Princess Royal. Back erect, brows puckered, mouth pursed, Joanna exuded royal displeasure. Gone was the sweet fourteen-year-old girl, replaced by a young woman ready and able to be a monarch. The alteration disturbed Alyse, who suspected the morning’s events, and the princess’s settling of them, had affected the change.

The silence of the room, and the knowledge that every gaze rested on her, played on Alyse’s nerves. The tension mounted until she thought she would shatter at the next sound. Panicked by the scrutiny, she could not take a deep breath. Quickly, she bowed her head in an effort to steady her heartbeat.

Something had to be terribly wrong. What had Thomas done after he charged out of their chamber this morning? Had he killed Geoffrey? Her heart seized at the thought, but reason insisted ’twas not so. Someone would have told her, had such a calamity befallen her. No, it could not be as bad as that, although from the stares of the courtiers it was bad enough. When they landed in
Bordeaux, would she be sent home in disgrace?

She shrank from the thought of what her father would say and do to her. Then, her eyes widened in horror as the truth revealed itself. She no longer belonged to her father’s household. Any reckoning would come from her husband.

My God!

Thomas had complained of her and Geoffrey’s behavior. He could ask to have her set aside, and she would have no one to turn to. The perilous nature of her circumstances struck her, and she was hard-pressed to remain standing. At any moment she could be exposed as a wanton, disgraced, and cast aside.

“Lady Braeton!”

Alyse jumped and nearly swooned, but managed to gather her wits and walk forward, eyes carefully downcast.

Joanna had never called her anything other than Alyse.

She approached the princess with dread in her heart and sank into a curtsy that placed her head on the floor at Princess Joanna’s foot. “Your Highness?” She could barely whisper.

“Rise, Lady Braeton.” When Alyse stood before her, Joanna fixed her with an indifferent eye.

Surely she was lost. She closed her eyes, awaiting censure.

“It has come to our attention that you have not been yourself of late.” Joanna paused, and Alyse nodded. ’Twas true enough.

“You have been careless in your attendance on us, and in such a diligent attendant, I fear there may be something amiss with your health. I therefore give you leave from your duties for the duration of the voyage.”

Alyse gasped. ’Twas a worse censure than she had expected. Banishment. “But, Your Highness—”

Joanna put out a hand to ward off her words. “Keep to your chamber, rest, and improve against the day we shall make entrance into our castle at
Bordeaux.”

“But who will attend you, Highness?”

“I have summoned my cousin, Lady Longford, to attend me while you are indisposed.”

The name sounded like a whip-crack in Alyse’s mind, shuddering through her body.

Lady Longford
.

Mary had now taken her place in every way possible. The reality of what her life would be smote her.

I will never be Lady Longford
.

Misery descended like a wet coverlet, suffocating her.

The princess’s insistent hand on her arm drew her back from the edge of despair. Princess Joanna still spoke to her. “Take this time I have given you to reflect on your life as it will be from now on, Lady Braeton, in service to God, to me, and to your husband.” She stressed that last word.

With tears in her eyes, Alyse nodded. “Aye, Your Highness.”

Joanna took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I shall send Lord Braeton to attend you presently.”

Alyse’s fears, rather than abating, increased alarmingly.

Dear God, what kind of attendance would Thomas visit upon her?

She choked back her doubts and managed to whisper, “I thank Your Highness for your goodness to me.”

Curtsying again to the princess, she backed from the chamber. As she turned to leave, she heard a murmur begin to spread. The scattered phrases, “drew their swords,” “betrayed him,” and “challenged him to draw,” assailed her ears, deepening her fear.

Once through the door, she began to cry in earnest. Picking up her skirts, she sped down the passage to her own cabin, scarcely watching where she ran. She pushed the door open then whirled around, slamming it as if pursued by an attacking horde. Pressed against the wood, she cried as though her heart would break. Her legs gave way, and she slid to the floor, unable to move.

She sat there, thoughts and images flying round and round as she tried to make sense of what had happened. Something had occurred between Thomas and Geoffrey this morning after Thomas stormed out of their chamber. How dire, she could not guess. And now she had been confined to her cabin in disgrace for the duration of the voyage.

Alyse trembled at the thought of being shut in here with her husband, who had looked at her with hate and loathing this morning. Only this morning? It seemed weeks or months ago, not mere hours.

Laying her face against the cool, rough panel of the door, she pictured Geoffrey standing at the bow of the ship, destroyed by the thought of her in Thomas’s bed. Then of Thomas, hurt beneath his anger, as he threatened her with ravishment because he would not share his wife with another man. Her chest swelled with pain as the sobering reality sank in.

She was married to Thomas for the rest of her life. This was not a tale from the Round Table where the lady vowed to remain true to her knight-lover for all time and did so without consequence. She had lived in that dream since her marriage, but it would serve no more. Nothing but misery would come from following that course. ’Twould be best if she obediently took what Thomas offered and professed to be happy with it. Whether she was or not. And though it would mean living a lie for the rest of her life.

Such an existence might serve for some—many ladies of the court smiled at their husbands until their backs were turned then slipped into the beds of their lovers—but having known deep love for a man, and having had that love returned, made the deceit of this marriage that much harder to bear. Yet she had little choice. She must counterfeit, as she had on her wedding night.

Her chest tightened. ’Twould be no counterfeit in their bed this night. Tears sprang to her eyes again.

Oh, Geoffrey. Would that I could spare you this final betrayal
.

She shook her head. Thomas had demanded her obedience. Her breath caught, as if she was being smothered. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself lying beneath him as he asserted his marital rights, thrusting as he had before, but this time claiming her as his in truth. She brought her knees up to hide her face. And she had to consent. For if she did not… In anger, men often forgot their vows. To be taken by force, by her champion, would devastate her.

And that was not even the worst that could happen. If Thomas indeed petitioned to have their marriage set aside… She quivered and hugged her legs closer. The immense shame that would follow her all her days paled in comparison to knowing Thomas hated her enough to seek that course.

Worse, if he had their marriage annulled, she would be sent home to reckon with her father, already incensed over the broken betrothal with Geoffrey. Father would care nothing about the next man to whom he betrothed her. After such a disgrace, he might find it difficult even to find one who would take her. If a marriage proved too much trouble to arrange, he might very well hide her away in a nunnery, with instructions that they discipline her harshly for her disobedience to her husband. Her Uncle Antoine was a priest. ’Twould be done in the blink of an eye.

Her sobs began again, louder than before. She did not want to be locked away from the world, with no one to love her for the rest of her life. No, she would not allow that to happen. Lifting her face, she took a deep breath. She would remedy this. Somehow, she would turn Thomas from his anger. Since their marriage, he had shown a tender interest in her. She could make him recall that tenderness.

Alyse rose from the floor, wiped her tears away with the heel of her hand and raised her chin. Despite what it would cost her heart, she began to devise the best way to surrender to her husband. If she could summon the strength to do so.