Knight of Pleasure (29 page)

He put his arm around her and guided her to the chair closest to the brazier. His solicitude made her feel guilty for letting
the twins’ wild speculations run away with her.

“I am sorry to interrupt you,” she said.

“I am glad to see you before I leave. ’Tis a shame I must go just as you are better, but I cannot delay visiting my mother
any longer.” Roche shifted his gaze and pulled on his ear. “I cannot have her hearing of our betrothal secondhand. You see,
she rather dotes on me.”

So this was the reason for his delay in having the banns read! No excuse was adequate, to be sure. Still, she was relieved
his motive was no more sinister than consideration for his mother.

“You are a good son,” Isobel said, pleased to learn it was true. “But should I not go with you?”

“Don’t be foolish! You’ve just risen from your sickbed,” he said. “I would not have you risk the roads again, in any case.”

They were interrupted then by one of his men-at-arms. “Lord de Roche,” the man said from the doorway, “the men are ready and
await you outside.”

“I shall join you shortly,” de Roche said, dismissing the man with a nod.

Isobel sighed with relief; she could delay the unpleasant task of questioning him about politics a little longer.

“I can escort you to your chamber before I leave,” de Roche said, rising to his feet.

At the door he stopped abruptly, as if he had forgotten something, and went back into the room. His back was to her, but Isobel
saw him take one of the parchments from the table and lock it in the drawer.

He took her straight to her rooms, his brisk steps conveying he was in a hurry now. Outside the open door of her solar, he
kissed her hand and bade her an abrupt adieu.

When he turned to leave, something inside the room caught his attention. A wave of unease passed through Isobel as she followed
the direction of his gaze. What caught de Roche’s attention—and held it still—was Linnet.

The girl sat on the window seat, head bowed over her needlework, sunlight shining on her fair hair. How had Isobel failed
to notice? Linnet, like her brother, was growing up. Her emerging shape was a trifle too apparent in the too-small gown.

Isobel drew in a sharp breath when Linnet looked up and fixed her deep blue eyes on them. Heaven help the child. A girl so
alone in the world should not be this lovely.

As Linnet’s mistress and lady of the house, Isobel could protect her from most men. But not from de Roche. If he was dishonorable
enough to take advantage of a dependent, Isobel was powerless to stop him.

Well, perhaps not completely powerless.

“Philippe,” she said, pointedly using his Christian name.

He dragged his gaze away from Linnet to look at her. Forcing a smile to her lips, she took a half step closer and rested her
palm against his chest.

She had his attention now.

Coy did not come easily to her. She tilted her head and looked up at him from under her lashes. “Must you go?”

De Roche wrapped his hand around hers and brought it slowly to his lips. “I fear I must,” he said, regret tugging at his voice.
“I can delay no longer.”

Isobel took a deep breath and let it out on the single word “Alas.”

Roche ran his tongue over his lips as his gaze dropped to her breasts. For a long moment, she feared her act had worked too
well. When he gave his head a shake and stepped back from her, she sent a silent prayer of thanks to every saint she could
think of.

“I shall return in a week,” he said, raking his eyes over her one last time.

As Isobel watched him disappear down the stairs, she thought about what was in his eyes when he looked at Linnet. Not just
lust, but possession. De Roche felt he had a right to take her. Isobel was not naive; she knew how it happened. The lord might
give the serving girl a few trinkets or coins, but he would not allow her to refuse him.

Isobel would delay the inevitable no more. She would not protest that the banns must be read thrice.

When de Roche returned, she would go to his bed.

She was not vain enough to believe she could divert de Roche forever. Eventually, she had to get the girl out of his house.
But she could buy time. When Robert came to visit, he could take Linnet away with him. How long before Robert’s promised visit?
A few weeks? She could distract de Roche that long, if she tried.

Isobel could not save herself. But by the saints, she would save Linnet.

April 1418

R
ouen was a prize second only to Paris. From La Chartreuse de Notre Dame de la Rose, the Carthusian monastery set on a hill
to the east of the city, Stephen could see over Rouen’s walls and watch the bustle of this prosperous city of 70,000 souls.

The city’s defenses had been strengthened since English forces last tried to take it, some thirty years ago. Stephen scanned
the long line of the wall, with its sixty towers. To lay siege here, King Henry would have to bring an army large enough to
encircle the city and guard all six gates. He would also have to block supplies from reaching the city from both the south
and the north via the Seine, which flowed beside the city.

Besieging Rouen would be an arduous task. All the same, the city would fall. Stephen did not hold out much hope he could convince
the men of Rouen of that truth, though.

As the king’s envoy, he was tasked with putting a single question to them: Would Rouen submit willingly, or would its people
be starved into submission?

Stephen wondered again why the king chose him for this mission. He sensed his brother’s hand in it. Perhaps it was Robert’s.
Stephen had plenty of time to contemplate that puzzle on the two-day ride to Rouen. Instead, all he thought of was Isobel—and
what he was going to do about her when he got here.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since she lay naked beneath him. Two weeks since she refused him.

Two weeks since she made her pledge to another.

For the thousandth time, he asked himself why she did it. How could she? How could she do it right after she agreed not to?
She did it so soon after he left her bed, his smell must have been on her skin as she made her pledge to de Roche.

Somehow the king had suspected Stephen’s intentions toward Isobel, or so Robert believed. The king was not the only one to
guess. Apparently, Robert, William, and Catherine had planned to speak to the king on Stephen’s behalf that very day. King
Henry acted swiftly, before his friends could approach him.

Robert insisted the king surprised Isobel, as well. But still, it was she who spoke the promise of marriage. Stephen’s only
comfort was that Isobel did not look the happy bride that morning, with her eyes swollen and her skin as pale as death.

A betrothal between a man and woman of consenting age was very nearly irreversible. But surely pregnancy by another man was
a valid ground for breaking it. Time was short. Her marriage to de Roche could be completed in a week or so.

If Isobel was with child, it would be a simple matter. Stephen would carry her off and deal with the consequences later. If
she did not agree to marry him at once, he would wear her down by the time the child was born.

What would he do if she did not yet know if she carried his child? Or worse, if she were certain she did not? He would not
let himself think of that.

“Stephen!”

He turned to see Jamie and Geoffrey hurrying toward him.

“The city has replied to the message you sent today,” Jamie said, holding out the rolled parchment.

Stephen scanned the long and flowery missive.

“The city will graciously welcome King Henry’s envoy on the morrow,” he summarized for Jamie and Geoffrey. “But they ‘invite’
my escort of English knights to remain here at the monastery while I conduct my business in the city.”

“You cannot agree to go alone,” Jamie protested. “At least take Geoffrey and me with you.”

“They will not permit it,” he told them. “And there is no need, since they have guaranteed my safety.”

“Their guarantee!” Jamie scoffed. “These Frenchmen murder even sworn allies and close relations.”

“If they mean to violate their guarantee,” Stephen said, “one or two men could not save me.”

He would ride into Rouen alone on the morrow. Within a day or two, he would know the city’s fate. And his own.

Linnet rushed into the solar and slammed the door behind her. “De Roche has returned!”

Isobel’s stomach clutched; her reprieve was over.

“The servants are all abuzz, because no sooner was he in the house than he left again,” Linnet said, her cheeks pink with
excitement. “You’ll not believe it! ’Tis even worse than we thought!”

“Slow down, Linnet. What will I not believe?”

“François overheard the men talking while he helped with the horses,” Linnet said. “De Roche was in Troyes, not Paris!”

Isobel tried to make sense of this news. “Troyes? Is that not where the Duke of Burgundy and the French queen are?”

Linnet nodded her head vigorously up and down. “Proof that de Roche betrays the king!”

Word had reached the city that Burgundy had captured the queen and set up a sham government in Troyes. Everyone expected Burgundy
to break his alliance with King Henry any day now.

“François heard the men say Burgundy parlays with the Armagnacs, proposing terms to join forces against King Henry.”

“What was François doing—hiding in the straw? I wish he would not take such risks! Where is he now?”

“He followed de Roche, of course,” Linnet said. “I told him to.”

“Do you wish to get your brother killed?”

For the hundredth time, she wondered about the twins’ background. They refused to tell her anything except that they were
orphaned. One thing was certain. Linnet was not raised to be anyone’s servant. She was every bit as willful as Isobel was
at that age.

They sat up past midnight sewing—or pretending to sew—while they waited for François. Just before Isobel heard a light tap
on the door, Linnet tossed her sewing aside and ran to open it.

“Where did de Roche go?” Linnet asked François as soon as she closed the door. “Did you see whom he met?”

“I followed him to a house where Armagnac supporters were meeting.”

“You should not do everything your sister tells you,” Isobel scolded. “These are powerful men with much at stake. That makes
them dangerous.”

“De Roche never saw me,” François said with a cocky grin.

Why was de Roche meeting with Armagnacs? Was he in league with both factions against the king? Aloud she said, “ ’Tis possible
de Roche attempts to persuade them of the rightness of King Henry’s cause.”

Linnet gave an unbecoming snort.

“He was never loyal to the king,” François said.

King Henry was not beloved here as he was in England, so she sometimes wondered at the reason for the twins’ fervent loyalty.
But this, like their parentage, was not something they shared with her.

“The king must be warned,” Linnet insisted.

“Of what would we warn the king?” Isobel asked, trying to reason with them. “Even if we knew something worth the telling,
how would I get a message to the king?”

“There is a way,” François said, beaming at her. “King Henry has sent an envoy to Rouen.”

“The king’s envoy is in the city?”

François shook his head. “He is outside the city, awaiting permission to enter. The garrison commander and the city leaders
spent the whole day arguing over what to do with him.”

“How do you learn these things?” Isobel asked. “You mustn’t go everywhere about the city as you do.”

“Someone must bring us news, and you will not let me go,” Linnet said. “Now, how shall we get a message to the envoy?”

“But we have no proof de Roche acts against the king,” Isobel argued. “You expect me to betray him on so little?”

Linnet lifted her chin. “If we find the proof, will you do it?”

Isobel looked from one pair of bright blue eyes to another.

Would she betray her king, or de Roche? Before she could answer that, she must learn the truth. But how?

In bed. Aye, that would be the best time to ask him. Tonight, after their first time together.

I
n the morning, Stephen dressed in the clothes he brought to play the part of king’s envoy. Elaborate liripipe hat, knee-length
velvet tunic, jeweled rings and brooch. Even particolored hose, God help him. As he fastened a heavy gold belt around his
hips, he heard a low whistle. He looked up to see Jamie grinning at him from the doorway.

“ ’Tis certain they’ll notice you, Uncle.”

“Only doing my duty,” Stephen said with a wink. “Now, you be sure to get out of here fast if there’s trouble.”

“Trouble?” Jamie asked. “You mean when the ladies start to fight over you?”

Stephen laughed and put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

“The worst they will do is hold me for ransom,” he said in a hushed voice as they walked outside together. “If I do not return
or send word before nightfall tomorrow, ride hard for Caen. Wait no longer, or they may come to the monastery and take you,
as well.”