LADY UNDAUNTED: A Medieval Romance (11 page)

She knew the answer but asked, “A game?”

He shifted his weight. “I was winning, Jossie. But then I was not. And I thought… Well, I was certain I could get back what I had lost. And more.”

The tale was not new. Often he put gambling and drinking ahead of commitments to others, just as he had done over three years past—and for it, she had been forced to wed Maynard to save their family from ruin.

“Hence,” he continued, “I returned to Rosemoor days later than planned.”

She resented that when Oliver and she had arrived in London, her father had been here, and his delay in returning to Rosemoor had kept him from her side when she had first gone before the king.

“But of course, as soon as I was told what had transpired, I followed—about killed my horse to reach London as fast as I did.” He gave a nod of the sort that begged for understanding and forgiveness.

She breathed deep, gently squeezed his arm. “I am glad you are here now.”

“Lady Joslyn!” Queen Philippa beckoned from the stairway. “There is much to be done ere meal time.”

Joslyn looked one last time into her father’s lined face. “You will go to Oliver directly?”

“Of course. Worry no more on it, Jossie.”

She would, though not as much as when there had been only Father Ivo to watch over her son. As she turned toward the stairs, she saw Liam had gone to lean against a sideboard.

He straightened. “I shall keep my word, Lady Joslyn,” he said and strode forward.

She faltered. “Your word, Sir Liam?”

Without reply, he moved past her.

She looked around and watched him halt before her father. “I will accompany you to the monastery, Lord Reynard.”

To her chagrin, her father accepted his offer—if it could be called that.

“Lady Joslyn!” The queen again, this time irritation in her voice.

Joslyn lifted her skirts, and as she ascended the stairs behind Philippa, realized Liam’s
word
referenced the assurance given in the streets of London that she and Oliver were safe with him—comforting only if he could be believed.

Shortly, the queen pushed open a door and ushered her into a chamber of such grandeur it dazzled.

“My apartments,” Philippa said as a maid lifted the queen’s short ermine-edged mantle from her shoulders. “And your quarters for the duration of your stay with us, Lady Joslyn.”

Then she was to share this place with the queen as if she were one of her attendants?

As her own mantle was removed, she noticed a group of five beautifully garbed women before a fireplace at the far end of the chamber. Though several held worked cloth in one hand and a needle in the other, they appeared more intent on conversation than adding stitches to their embroidery.

“I would be honored, Your Majesty, but I have been given an apartment of my own.”

“You were, but this is where you will sleep and occupy yourself.”

Did the queen suspect what Liam believed? Worse, did she think Joslyn had invited her husband’s attention? Longing to defend herself but knowing it would be improper, she said, “I thank you, my queen.”

Philippa looked to the woman who had taken her mantle. “Lady Joslyn is in need of a bath.”

Joslyn’s cheeks warmed. She was before royalty and soon to be among the most noble of ladies.

“Now I will present you,” the queen said.

Joslyn glanced down her gown. It had taken little of the abuse dealt her mantle, slippers, and hair that had known well Liam Fawke’s hands, but it showed traces of her flight though those filthy streets. “I am hardly presentable, Your Majesty.”

“Ah, child, simply smile and none will find anything terribly amiss.”

Hoping she was right, Joslyn followed the woman into the first of what appeared to be four chambers.

“Ladies,” the queen called.

The five rose from their stools, curtsied, and murmured greetings to their queen.

“We have a guest,” Philippa said. “Lady Joslyn Fawke, soon to be of the Barony of Ashlingford now that her son is named its heir.”

“Ashlingford,” one lady said. “Then ’tis not the misbegotten Irish who shall inherit?”

“Unbeknownst to all,” the queen said, “Lady Joslyn was wed to Baron Maynard Fawke some years ago. As their son is quite young, Sir Liam will manage the barony the same as he did for his brother.”

Joslyn was surprised the queen was aware of the situation. What else did she know?

A sweet-faced woman, who could be no more than sixteen years of age, leaned toward an older lady and whispered, “A pity the Irishman did not inherit. He is quite handsome, and with such a barony, a fine husband he would have made.”

Another of the ladies asked, “Have you seen him?”

The young woman startled at having been overheard. “From a distance.”

“How is that, Lady Cedra?” Philippa’s tone was disapproving.

Cedra shifted her gaze to her clasped hands. “My queen, I did not mean to listen in on your conversation with Sir Liam, but when I came upon you in the garden late this morn, my ears could not throw back what they heard.”

So this was the business that had delayed Liam’s departure from the palace.

“A lady should always make her presence known.” The queen’s reprimand seemed motherly. “’Tis unseemly to skulk among other people’s conversations.”

Lady Cedra nodded. “I beg your forgiveness.”

“All I ask is you remember this lesson. ’Tis of no benefit if you forget it.”

“I will remember, Your Majesty.”

The queen smiled, then introduced Joslyn to the ladies. “Lady Cedra, as you know. Lady Amilie, and beside her Lady Justina. And these are the elder Lady Ellen and the younger Lady Ellen.”

Mother and daughter? Joslyn wondered, but there could be no more than ten years between them.

“Sisters,” Philippa answered the unspoken question. “Their mother so loved the name.”

“Why is Lady Joslyn in such disarray?” the tall, thin-faced Amilie asked.

The queen winked at Joslyn. “It seems the lady considers herself an adventuress, thinking naught of exploring the city on her own.”

“Alone?” Lady Cedra gasped.

Philippa chuckled. “As you can see, there is much to do ere she takes her place upon the barony—and less than a day in which to do it. On the morrow, she and her son journey to Ashlingford.”

Joslyn winced. She had not thought they would go directly to their new home, had been sure they would first return to Rosemoor.

“I daresay there is much to do,” Lady Amilie said. “A lady would never think of leaving the palace without an escort. I vow I would not.”

The queen tweaked the woman’s cheek. “Just as a lady would never accept a scoundrel’s invitation to tryst beneath the stairs, hmm?”

Lady Amilie colored.

Philippa looked to Joslyn. “Remove your garments and give them to Lady Justina. Then we will have you into a bath.”

Joslyn did not believe she was overly modest, but neither had she ever gone unclothed before any but her maid.

“I have a robe you may wear until the water arrives,” the queen said.

“I will do her hair,” Lady Cedra offered.

The younger Lady Ellen stepped forward. “I will read to her whilst she bathes.”

“And I?” The elder Ellen shrugged. “Naught left but for me to stroll the garden.”

“Naught but for you and Amilie to tend me,” the queen said, then, “Enjoy your bath, Lady Joslyn. We will speak afterward.” With the two ladies trailing, she departed the chamber, leaving Joslyn to worry over what needed to be discussed.

CHAPTER NINE

“Do not think I am unaware of my husband’s appetites.”

Joslyn startled. Bathed, perfumed, garbed, and groomed, she had been savoring her solitude, unaware the queen had stolen behind her. She turned. “Your Majesty?”

Resplendent in red velvet, the queen smiled tightly. “I speak of the apartment, Lady Joslyn.”

Joslyn forced herself to hold the woman’s gaze. Liam had said, and now Philippa confirmed, the king had intended to come to her for recompense.

But did that mean Liam had lost Ashlingford for no other reason than that Joslyn appealed to Edward? She prayed not—unless it meant he might reconsider his ruling. Surely she could not be blamed for the loss of Oliver’s birthright if the king changed his mind, for even had she not slipped free of the palace, she would have refused Edward had he sought intimacy with her.

“You did not know what my husband intended?” the queen prompted.

“I suppose I should have.” She had not been blind to the way he had looked at her and, later, touched her. “But all I could think of was Oliver.”

“When word was brought to me that my husband had installed you in the apartment, I was vexed, but no more than usual. You see, Lady Joslyn, I love my lord very much and he loves me, but it is difficult for him to pass by a lovely face when it is so easily in his power to more intimately enjoy it.” Philippa caught up the loose ends of her girdle and began rubbing the gold beads threaded upon it. “’Tis a shameful thing to admit, but I was relieved to hear you had disappeared.”

“Was it the king who discovered me missing?”

“Nay, but he would have if your father’s arrival had not earlier brought it to his attention.”

“Thus, you delivered me to your apartments.”

The queen walked to the fireplace and put her hands out to warm them. “’Tis rare I am able to manage my husband’s infidelities, but I saw the opportunity and took it. Quite unashamedly.”

“Even if…” How to say it? “I would not have…”

Philippa turned back. “Now that I have met you, I am inclined to believe I need not have worried.” She stepped forward and touched Joslyn’s arm. “Think no more on it. On the morrow you will be on your way to your new home, and this need never again be mentioned.”

Joslyn was tempted to appeal to her for assistance in the matter of Ashlingford, but providing King Edward was not so angered with her he bestowed the barony on Liam Fawke, the matter was settled. Nothing to be gained from complaining. “I thank you, Your Majesty.”

“And I you.” She considered Joslyn a moment longer and murmured, “Methinks Sir Liam—now Lord Fawke—is very wrong about you.”

Joslyn could not let it pass. “Forgive me, but may I ask how you know him? What I mean is, Lady Cedra said you were with him in the garden this morn.”

Philippa chuckled. “Wondering if I am as unfaithful as my husband is to me?” Before Joslyn could protest, she said, “I jest. Do not fear you have offended me.” She crossed to an overstuffed armchair that looked never to have been sat upon and lowered to its edge. “As we have a few minutes, I will explain. I was at my husband’s side seven years past when Sir Liam and his brother came before the throne to argue whose right over Ashlingford was greater. I believed Sir Liam’s claim should be honored, regardless of whether or not he is legitimate born.”

“Because his father named him heir?”

“That is part of it. After all, an astute man knows his sons better than they know themselves, and the old baron was wise.”

“The other part?”

The queen shrugged. “Though it was mostly a feeling, I thought Sir Liam the more honorable—honest and responsible, whereas his brother…” She frowned. “I am sorry, Lady Joslyn. I forget you were wed to Maynard Fawke.”

“I do not require an apology. Truly, I am grateful for insight into a man of whom I knew so little.”

“I thought it was that way, but still it is not proper for me to tell you who your husband was when I knew him not. As I was saying, I was present when my lord decreed Ashlingford would pass to the younger son. Throughout the proceedings, Sir Liam was so calm and confident that when he lost control, no one was prepared. How he raged! And though that might have been the worst of it, his foolish uncle taunted him.” She bounced her eyebrows. “’Tis astonishing one man can capture such strength in anger. It took several guards to pull Sir Liam off Father Ivo and drag him from the hall.”

“What happened?” Joslyn asked softly.

“The king was so infuriated, he ordered Sir Liam imprisoned in the Beauchamp Tower, a prison few men leave alive.”

Joslyn rubbed her hands over the prickling hairs coursing her arms. “He was taken there?”

“Nay. I humbled myself and pleaded for him.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “He is a handsome man, would you not say?”

“I…suppose.”

“He is. Mayhap you do not see it now, but when you fear him less, you will hardly be able to overlook it.”

The truth was, she did see it—and more. Though she tried to suppress the memory, she recalled his face so near hers she could feel the touch of his mouth again. She drew a strident breath. “I cannot believe you went to his aid simply because you thought him pleasing to the eye, Your Majesty.”

“I did not. As told, I felt for him. And believing him wronged, I thought him justified in expressing his feelings, dangerous though they were.”

“The king pardoned him?”

“He did. And since then I have affirmed it was the right thing to do, for I have come to know Sir Liam as a man with years of hurt behind and before him. A man aching to be accepted.” She traced a finger down her lustrous skirts. “Certes, he has a temper, Lady Joslyn, but do not let it throw a shadow across the good of him.”

Then she also believed Joslyn need not fear him. But how could she not? Even with all she had learned this day, Liam unsettled her.

Never would she forget his ride on Rosemoor Manor. Like the devil he had come to shatter her snug little life, and like the devil, the king had set him upon her shoulder for the rest of her days.

“Of this I am certain,” the queen continued, “Liam Fawke is as honorable today as he was seven years ago.”

“But angrier.”

Regret deepened the fine grooves of the queen’s face. “The future promised him has been taken a second time. Another cruel blow.”

Made all the more cruel by an innocent boy who had yet to know of the tumult he caused simply by being born. “You think he will remain honorable?”

“I know it.” She stood and smoothed her skirts. “Ladies! Pull your noses from the door and let us be to dinner.”

There was a shuffling behind the door of the apartment into which the women had earlier gone to prepare themselves, a calculated moment of silence, then the door opened. Each looking as innocent as a cat with a feather stuck between its claws, the five women filed out.