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Authors: Elizabeth Elliott

The Dark Knight (48 page)

BOOK: The Dark Knight
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Dante inclined his head toward her, his voice still no more forceful than if they spoke of the weather, but it was hard to miss the undercurrent of steel. “Do you accept this miserable cur’s apology?”

“Aye, my lord. No offense was intended.” She had a very good idea of what would happen if she declined.

Armand waited for Dante’s slight nod, and then the blade came away from Gerhardt’s throat. She could hear many sighs of relief as Dante’s soldiers lowered their weapons. Isabel gave a small wave of her hand and her soldiers’ swords returned to their scabbards as well. Gerhardt produced a handkerchief from his sleeve and blotted away the blood on his neck.

“You must be Dante Chiavari,” Isabel said, her hauteur fully recovered. “You will forgive my captain. The customs here are much different from those in our homeland. Indeed, they seem to be different from those I recall from my childhood. Your … friend is welcome to remain, of course.”

“Of course,” Dante echoed. He loosened his hold on Avalene just enough to give Isabel a curt bow. “If you will permit me, I would like to introduce you to Lady Avalene de Forshay, daughter of Baron Weston, one of your father’s loyal Marcher barons in Wales.”

Isabel’s eyes widened slightly as Avalene dropped into a curtsey that was made awkward since Dante kept hold of her hand and did not let go of her waist. “My lady, I am most honored to make your acquaintance.”

A furrow appeared between Isabel’s brows. “What are you doing here, Lady Avalene, in the company of a foreigner, dressed in servant garb?”

I fell madly in love with a handsome Italian and have happily made myself his harlot
. Uncertain how to answer that question aloud, she looked to Dante.

“Lady Avalene was forced to flee her home unexpectedly,” Dante answered smoothly. “She was unable to take any of her belongings on the journey and her clothing was damaged beyond repair on the trip to London. Her new garments will begin arriving this afternoon.”

“Did you steal her away from her husband?” Isabel asked.

“Nay, my lady. She is here on your father’s orders.”

“Natürlich.”
Isabel looked disappointed, and then her face brightened again as she looked at Avalene. “You will join us in my solar in the afternoons, Lady Avalene. I have been away from England for much of my life. So much has changed! You will help reacquaint me with all
I have forgotten and entertain us with stories of your journey to London. How wonderful and frightening to be accompanied by only a boy and three men. Our journey to England was quite a trial, what with so large a baggage train and so many mouths to feed and so many to bed down each night.”

It took Avalene a moment to absorb this complete change in Isabel’s demeanor toward her. Did she now expect them to be fast friends? The princess and the harlot? Amazing.

“I would be pleased to join you in the afternoons,” Avalene said. Gerhardt had obviously described their small party to Isabel after their arrival yesterday. She had no intention of telling Isabel anything about her reasons for being in London and the details of her journey would be quite sketchy. Still, she could hardly refuse a royal summons.

“Please be seated again, ladies,” Dante told them. “I am actually glad to find you here, Princess. Your father bid me give you a message; he would like to meet with you tomorrow morning to discuss the particulars of your upcoming marriage.”

The feathers on Isabel’s barbette danced as though they were living things when she turned her head sharply to look toward the windows. “I was not aware that a betrothal had been contracted.”

“The negotiations are completed,” Dante said.

Isabel’s mouth tightened, and then she released a small sigh and took her seat again. Avalene quickly followed suit, although that earned her a puzzled look from Dante, who had missed the explanation about raised heads. She gave him a barely perceptible shake of her head and a look that she hoped conveyed,
Later
.

“Actually,” Dante said slowly, still looking at Avalene, “I brought the contracts with me for your advisers to
review before your meeting with Edward.” His gaze went to Isabel. “The king gave me leave to relay the particulars, should you care to hear them.”

“The details must be dire, indeed, if my father cannot relay them to me himself.” She fingered one of the braided tassels that hung from her girdle and seemed almost to speak to herself. “I suppose he thinks I will be in better spirits tomorrow if he gives me the night to mull over whatever bad news you bear.”

“The situation
is
somewhat complicated,” Dante admitted. He reached down for Avalene’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I had hoped to speak with Lady Avalene privately before I met with you. This news affects her, too.”

Avalene’s head shot up. “Me?”

“You would be the only Lady Avalene in the chamber,” Dante teased, but the humor did not quite reach his eyes. He turned again to Isabel. “The man your father chose for you is presently betrothed to Lady Avalene.”

Every gaze in the room turned to Avalene. She looked at Dante and blinked once. “The king intends to give his
daughter
to Faulke Segrave?”

“Aye,” Dante nodded. “Faulke’s father came to the king with the betrothal contracts that Faulke and your father signed to get Edward’s approval. The king proposed a betrothal to Isabel instead. The contracts are drawn up and all the details have been agreed to by Faulke’s father and Isabel’s. However, your father and Faulke both signed
your
betrothal contracts. Your betrothal still stands until Faulke and your father renounce it, and Faulke signs Isabel’s contracts.”

It took her a moment to digest all of that information, and then she smiled up at him. It took a concentrated effort to remain seated. She wanted to wrap her arms
around his neck, throw her head back and laugh aloud. “He will renounce me! How could he not? Princess Isabel will bring much more to a marriage than I ever could.”

Dante did not return her smile. “What she would bring to the marriage is most of the problem.”

“What do you mean?” Isabel demanded. “Who is this Faulke Segrave?”

Dante gave such a brief description of Faulke that Avalene wondered how he could think it sufficient for the woman who would hopefully marry him.

She half listened as Isabel began to pepper Dante with questions that he patiently answered, questions about Segrave’s family, their importance in Wales, their holdings and fortresses, and then more about Faulke himself, his previous wives, his daughters, their ages, his age. More than an hour passed before her initial curiosity was satisfied.

“And what does this baron’s daughter have that he would find preferable to a royal daughter’s dowry?” Isabel asked at last.

Avalene supposed the question was not meant to sound insulting. Isabel certainly hadn’t called her a whore or harlot, but simply wanted to know Faulke’s motivations in the whole matter. Indeed, she was curious about the answer herself. Why did Dante have any doubts that Segrave would refuse Isabel? No sane man would refuse such a match.

“Avalene represents an opportunity for the Segraves to set themselves up as the next princes of Wales,” Dante explained. “Rebellion is always a worry for Edward in the Marches, and Avalene is a direct descendant of the last prince. If Segrave had a son with her, every native in Wales would rally to their cause.

“On the other hand, marriage to you means an English
earldom, a few more minor titles, and extensive properties in England along with their incomes. Segrave’s father is anxious to acquire all of it, but Faulke has his mind turned toward rebellion and freedom from English rule.” Dante gestured toward Gerhardt. “Edward insists that your personal guard and one hundred of his own soldiers reside with you in your husband’s household, within Segrave’s fortress. Segrave will have a hard time leading a rebellion when the enemy is already within his walls.”

Clever, Avalene thought. And little wonder Faulke would not be keen on such a marriage when the conditions meant openly living with the king’s spies and soldiers. His own wife would be his jailer.

Isabel studied Dante’s face. “There is more.”

“Aye,” he said, his mouth turning downward. “All titles and claims already conveyed to the Segraves by the Crown will be forfeited and then given back in your name to be held for the children of your marriage. Segrave will hold his lands and titles through you during your lifetime. If you die before Segrave and have an heir, Segrave will hold his heir’s claims and titles through his lifetime. If you were to die without issue or if you and your heirs die before Segrave, everything will revert to the king. The Segraves would lose all rights to the titles and lands they now hold in addition to all the titles and lands that are part of your dowry.”

Avalene felt her joy fade. No wonder Dante looked so resigned. Faulke would never agree to those terms unless he could be absolutely certain Isabel would provide him with heirs who would outlive him, and who could know such a thing? The only thing that could possibly sway his decision was the fact that Dante had no intention of letting Faulke have her, while Isabel was Faulke’s for the taking.

Isabel pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful. The room was so quiet that every small noise seemed magnified: the rustle of fabric as one of the German women smoothed her skirts, a quiet cough from one of the soldiers, the sound of fingernails against skin as someone scratched an itch. Gradually the corners of Isabel’s mouth curved upward into a smile, and then she laughed aloud.

“Ah! I see my father’s plan.” The feathers on her barbette danced a merry dance as she tilted her head back and laughed as Avalene had wanted to laugh earlier. “ ’Tis a brilliant strategy! Not that I would expect any less from a Plantagenet. I wonder what excuse he gave?”

Avalene looked at Dante, but his expression remained impassive. He had no more idea of what Isabel meant than she did.

Isabel’s voice was still touched with laughter when she spoke to Gerhardt, a torrent of words in his strange language. The only word Avalene recognized was “Segrave.” Isabel laughed again at the end of her small speech, but Gerhardt did not smile with her. He looked … worried.

Avalene’s gaze went to the other members of Isabel’s entourage who also understood what their mistress had just told Gerhardt. The two women kept their gazes carefully lowered, but both were blushing. All three soldiers wore frowns. Why wasn’t anyone but Isabel smiling?

She looked again at Dante and noticed his lips were pressed together ever so slightly. Her eyes widened as she realized he understood their language. Her curiosity was aroused even more.

“So,” Isabel said to Dante, as she dabbed the corner of her eye with her sleeve, “how do we convince the hapless Faulke Segrave to relinquish his Welsh maiden
in favor of an English earldom?” Before Dante could answer, she turned again to Gerhardt and this time spoke in English. “Did you ever imagine a man would need such incentives to marry a Plantagenet?”

“Nay, my lady,” Gerhardt murmured. His frown looked permanent.

“We encountered Segrave on our journey to London,” Dante told her. “He also journeys to the city and I have sent out a search party to watch for his approach. My spies will let me know when he is near the walls. He will then be brought here to be presented with the new contracts. Your father hopes you will allow Segrave to be introduced to you at that time. Once he renounces Avalene and signs the betrothal contract, arrangements can be made for your journey to Wales.”

“Wales,” Isabel repeated, tapping her chin as she gazed across the room at no point in particular. “It would seem we are to live amongst the savages, Gerhardt.”

“Aye, my lady.” Gerhardt looked glum at the prospect.

Isabel rose gracefully and inclined her head toward Dante. “I will meet with my father tomorrow, and then I will likely have more questions for you. Lady Avalene, I will see you in my solar tomorrow afternoon.”

Avalene kept a polite smile on her face. Dante seemed distracted by the parade of Isabel’s retinue trailing from the solar. Her timing for an escape to the bedchamber was perfect. “If you do not mind, I would like to excuse myself now. My head aches, but I am certain I will feel better if I can just lie down for a little while.”

“Of course,” Dante murmured. “I will come with you.”

Her eyes widened. Everyone in the solar would make lewd assumptions if they both retired to the bedchamber.
She looked around at all of Dante’s soldiers and felt herself blush. She spoke to him in a low whisper. “Could you at least dismiss some of your men before we
both
excuse ourselves?”

He gave her a puzzled look, and then she watched understanding dawn. Men could be so obtuse at times. He gave her a wry smile. “Go on to our chamber. I will join you after I have dismissed everyone.”

Avalene was seated on the edge of his bed and looking toward the window when he entered the chamber an hour later. A soft smile curved her lips when she saw him, but her eyes looked sad. He had known she would not react well to the news about Isabel and Segrave. He could not blame her. He had been just as elated when Mordecai had told him the identity of Faulke’s English bride, initially just as certain as Avalene that Faulke would be eager to renounce her in favor of such a prize. He should have known it would not be easy.

“I thought you wanted to lie down,” he said as he loosened the laces to his tunic. She might appear composed to anyone else, but he could sense the stress in her, and could see it in the tightness around her eyes and the stiff set of her shoulders. It had been a stressful day for them both. He slipped off his tunic and boots, and then stretched out on the bed behind her with a stack of pillows at his back. “Is your head feeling better?”

“A little.”

She had her back to him so he picked up the end of her braid and rubbed the soft tassel against his hand. The tickling sensation reminded him of another time he had felt the same touch in a very different place. His body hardened in anticipation and his breathing quickened. No. He shut that part of himself down, forced it from
his consciousness. He was here to comfort her, to calm her fears. After everything that had been said and done today in the solar, she was likely in shock. He had promised to take care of her, and that did not always mean his own selfish needs would be taken care of in the process.

BOOK: The Dark Knight
9.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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