My Lady Deceiver

by June Francis

  Almost as if he had been waiting for this moment, he broke off his conversation with Rob and returned her gaze, his brilliant eyes keen as they scanned her features. ‘Do — Do you have any notion, Mistress Cobtree, what it is like to travel south when the wool-trains are on the roads?’

  ‘No, sir, but I should imagine it will be slow — and dusty if the weather is fine.’ Her cheeks were warm with that penetrating stare.

  ‘Ay,’ he replied grimly. ‘Dustier than you can imagine, I’ll be bound. But if it rains, it is worse, much worse, and the journey becomes even slower and more tedious. Also the company is rough and not suitable for a lady. I cannot think what my brother was about in sending you to me to face such a journey when you have suffered already!’

  ‘Perhaps he did not think of it? And, besides, I told you it was my idea to go south in the hope of resolving the dilemma I am in.’

  ‘Did not think!’ He blew an exasperated breath. ‘No, likely he did not, for he takes little interest in the sheep — only in his share of the profits, which could be larger if he did show an interest.’

  ‘I know nothing of that, sir, only that perhaps — from conversation, I have heard, you understand? — what with the trouble with the serfs, it might be the time soon to broach such a subject with your brother again.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  She cast a glance at Rob, who had fallen on his food now that Guy had turned his attention to Philippa. ‘I don’t think your brother wishes you to know, but he was attacked by some serfs, who are now imprisoned in Knaresborough Castle.’

  ‘His own serfs?’

  ‘Ay! I consider that the situation is similar to … ’ she stopped abruptly, ‘that which my cousin told me about at Cobtree manor.’

  Guy stared at her, then turned to Rob. ‘Is this true?’

  ‘What’s that, Master Guy?’ He spluttered out some barley.

  He repeated Philippa’s words. Rob gave a sigh of relief. ‘I told him he should have let you know, but he’s that stubborn, Master Guy! You know him. Especially as you’ve told him that matters might be easier if you both freed the serfs and put sheep on the land. But what you can do about it, I don’t know.’

  ‘Is there still danger?’

  Rob hesitated, then said cautiously, ‘The others are disgruntled. No manor trial, you see — and the two that stood up to him are cottars, with not much of this world’s goods. They demanded more wages for the work they did for your brother, and he refused, saying that they didn’t earn what they did receive!’

  Guy’s lips compressed into a thin line. ‘What’s the answer, Rob? I take it that he does not wish for my help?’

  ‘Doesn’t want you saying “I told you so”, Master Guy! And his leg’s giving him trouble still. I reckon he’ll have to work this through himself — and maybe he’ll come to see things the way you do. Maybe the lady will help him. Fair struck with her, he seems.’

  ‘Does he?’ Guy smiled soberly. ‘That’s interesting. You may tell him I shall do as he requests. I shall not go with the clip but shall send John, the bailiff, in my stead. He knows what’s what. Mistress Cobtree and I shall set out in the morning, before the roads get crowded.’ He toyed with the knife on the table. ‘If that is acceptable to you, mistress?’

  ‘To me?’ She lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see the triumph in them. ‘I am perfectly satisfied, Master Milburn.’

  There was a silence before he said in a gruff voice, ‘Then it is settled. We ride tomorrow.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘You will sleep upstairs. Best go up now, for we shall start early.’

  Philippa rose, for she was tired with the journey, and having got her way, did not want him to change his mind. ‘I bid you a good night then, sir, and shall see you in the morning.’

  He inclined his head, and Philippa went over to a ladder in the far corner. Her last sight of Guy that night was of him staring moodily into the fire. Almost her heart misgave her, for he did not look happy, but she had come too far to tell him the truth yet. So much still hung in the balance.

  Guy glanced up as Philippa came down the ladder. The faint light of dawn penetrated the shutters at the window. There was apprehension written in her expression, and he knew then why he had not told her, or Rob, the truth last night. Thus had she looked when first he had seen her, and he wanted to remove such fear from her for ever. When she did remember her past, he wished to be there. Surely there was some way of settling this matter so that Hugo would free her from their betrothal agreement? But what had Rose been thinking of to take her place — or to let her travel south? Surely she realised that Philippa would find out the truth about herself when she came to her manor, and was recognised?

  ‘Good morning to you, Master Milburn.’ She smiled at him tentatively.

  ‘Not so good a morning, Mistress Cobtree,’ he said brusquely. ‘It’s raining. But sit down and have some bread. There is butter and honey, if you are content with them. Or I can ask Ann to cook you some eggs.’

  ‘No, I am perfectly satisfied with butter and honey, thank you.’ She sat down opposite him. ‘The rain? Does that mean you must put off our journey?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not unless you want to?’ He took a mouthful of bread and egg. ‘It is different from the last time we set out on a journey, you and I?’ he added softly, several minutes later.

  She stopped spreading honey on her bread and butter. She had not expected him to allude so soon to the time they had spent together. ‘You and I?’ she reiterated, rather breathlessly.

  ‘Surely your cousin told you we already know each other — quite well?’ He took a gulp of ale, watching her intently. Just how much had Rose told her? The maid must have realised that he would know the truth, and could unmask her. What was her aim in allowing Philippa to come to him? There was the faintest of blushes on her cheeks. Sooo!

  ‘My — My cousin did hint that … there was something … between us. That seeing you might help me.’ Was she going too far, too soon? But surely she was only following his lead in accepting without remembering that they had had a fondness for each other. Was that not what he meant by knowing each other quite well? And the expression on his face when he said it indicated that he wished it so.

  ‘And has it?’ he said drily. ‘You don’t appear to remember me.’

  ‘I don’t feel that you are a stranger.’ She took a large bite of bread and honey, and chewed pensively as if in deep thought, leaving the next move to him.

  ‘What do you feel towards me?’ Deliberately he put his hand over hers, and raising it to his lips caressed it with his mouth, before turning it over and kissing her wrist. She did not answer, or pull away. ‘Could we have been lovers?’

  She had to clear her throat. ‘Lovers?’ Her voice was husky. ‘It is too soon for me to answer that.’ Her fingers quivered beneath his, and he held them more tightly before realising that her betrothal ring was gone. It seemed that Rose was in earnest if she had taken the ring from her finger! Had she done so while she had lain as one dead as Rob had described? A spurt of anger shot through him. He would not have thought it of her, but perhaps the revolt had fired her with the same kind of desire as with others to rise in the world? But that still did not explain why she had allowed her to come to him? Did she think that he … ? His face darkened.

  ‘Ay, ’tis too soon for me to tell you the truth of the matter. You need time.’ He released her hand. ‘Time to remember, yourself. If taking you to your old home in the south will help you to do so, the sooner we start, the better.’ Guy tossed off the remains of his drink and pushed back his chair, and without another word left her to finish her breakfast.

  Philippa wondered at the sudden change in him: from would-be lover to the Guy who would be about his brother’s business. Which would he be when she did ‘remember’? She could only pray that he would see the same way out of the situation as she did when the time came!

  It rained all through Yorkshire, but
it lightened to a drizzle by late afternoon when they entered the county of Derbyshire. Much of the journey had passed in silence, which made Philippa wonder if Guy was regretting his decision to take her to Kent. As they steamed in front of a welcome fire in the almost empty inn where they were to spend the night, Guy spoke suddenly on a matter to which she had foolishly given no consideration. ‘I gather you know something of the rebellion in the south?’ He dipped his spoon into the bowl of pottage.

  ‘A little,’ she replied, lifting her head swiftly from her dreams of what the future might hold. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘You know you fled from Cobtree manor?’

  She nodded. ‘My cousin fled also.’

  ‘Ay!’ he said impatiently, waving his spoon as though brushing Rose aside. ‘So it could be that you will not be welcome there. I should have thought to bring a couple of men.’ He paused to eat another spoonful of food. ‘You do know that the house was burnt to the ground?’ He was hesitant, wondering if she still experienced bad dreams.

  ‘I know.’ Convulsively her fingers tightened on her spoon. ‘There will be no shelter over our heads.’ A shadow darkened her eyes.

  ‘That will be the least of our problems if the rebellion still simmers in Kent! But, no matter, we shall visit London first, since we have to pass through it anyway.’ He tore a hunk of bread from the loaf and wiped the bowl with it. ‘Do you remember London?’ He stared at her. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her forehead, and she looked tired and pale.

  ‘I stayed there?’ She moistened her mouth, remembering that there were supposed to be only some gaps in her memory. What should she choose to remember? How she wished that she knew for sure that he would wed her if it were possible! Why had she ever started this deception?

  ‘With my cousin and her husband — Beatrice and James Wantsum, they are called. Some peasants climbed the wall while you stayed in their house, don’t you remember? They filled London to overflowing; looting, destroying, burning, don’t you remember?’ he insisted, his hand covering hers now. His eyes seemed to bore into her, and she was suddenly frightened. What would he do if she told him the truth at this moment? Would he be furious, and take her straight back to Hugo for playing such a trick on them both?

  ‘I — I don’t think I want to remember, if it was so terrible,’ she whispered. ‘Sometimes I dream.’ Her fingers clung to his. ‘There are men … ’ A sudden note of urgency entered her tone. ‘Master Guy, I don’t think I want to remember, if the past is so fearful. I would rather only think of the future — and that my cousin and your brother could be happy together, and … ’ Words failed her. She looked down at their clasped hands and made to pull hers away.

  But he would not let her go. ‘And?’

  ‘And that … I could … be happy too.’ She could no longer think clearly.

  ‘Isn’t that what we all want? But it is an elusive state … although it has a habit of coming when least expected. I’m not happy now, but I could be if circumstances were different.’ He caressed the back of her hand with the ball of his thumb.

  Swallowing, she said, ‘What circumstances?’ The noise of water dripping from the thatched eaves and the murmur of men’s voices in a far corner suddenly seemed loud in the silence that followed her question. Was he going to tell her the truth?

  ‘I am no saint, sweeting, but even I cannot take advantage of this situation! I could tell you anything about us, and maybe you would choose to believe me. But I won’t do that.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘We could both choose to forget the past — and that there is a future to take into the reckoning, and just live for the moment. We could pretend that we had met only yesterday? That we each find the other to our liking?’ He kissed the hand he now held between both of his. ‘More than liking, perhaps?’ he said in a barely audible voice as he nibbled one of her fingers.

  An unbelievable touch of magic held her. To forget utterly all that separated them just for the moment while they were on the road appealed to her greatly. ‘Master Guy,’ she whispered, ‘you could choose to tell me anything, and I would believe you — but perhaps it is better as you say. No past — no future — only now!’

  ‘So be it.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘You have finished eating?’ She nodded. ‘Good. I would be alone with you.’ He lifted her to her feet and sent a glance through the still unshuttered window. ‘Do you have a mind to stretch your legs? The rain has just about stopped. We shall not go far.’ He faced her. ‘It is madness to go out again, I know, but inns are not the most private places.’

  ‘Madness — if it is such — is a state I am beginning to feel happy in! Your aunt considered me mad because I could not remember falling.’ She let him lead her to the outside door, oblivious of the indulgent looks that followed them. A man and a maid, hand in hand, could mean only one thing, and the ancients who had come to sup their ale remembered their summer madness of long ago.

  It smelled sweet and fresh after the smoky atmosphere of the inn, and although the grass was wet, the air was not cold as they walked aimlessly away from the building. Philippa revelled in the touch of his hand and the sight of him so near. In truth she suddenly was Rose, a country maid out with her lover, with no thought of manors or betrothals — although weddings were on her mind! They came to the edge of a copse, and there paused amid the trees. Deliberately Guy raised her hand and put it on his shoulder, looking deep into her eyes.

  ‘I shall say only that, in days, we have not known each other long, unless you count a short meeting when you were ten years old, but we have spent hours in each other’s company, and then you were not averse to my kissing you.’

  ‘W-Wasn’t I?’ Her expression was bemused as he brought her close, and she could not help but hold her face up to his. Only for a moment was she undecided whether to respond, and then her feelings were beyond rein, and they were sharing a kiss that went on for a satisfyingly long time.

  ‘Well!’ he exclaimed unsteadily when he lifted his head.

  ‘It is well,’ she responded in a hushed voice, caught up on a wave of love in response to the emotion in his face.

  ‘I wanted to forget you,’ he muttered, ‘but I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.’

  ‘Then all is well,’ she said liltingly.

  ‘Is it? I wish I could say that is true.’ His face darkened and he caught her close again. ‘But it isn’t!’ Then he was kissing her again as though he never wanted to let her go, and she was lost, drowning in a haze of desire that threatened to overwhelm her.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was Guy who came to his senses first. He pulled himself jerkily out of her arms and leaned back against a tree trunk, his chest heaving. ‘I believe I could take you now, but it would be wrong!’

  ‘Wrong?’ For an instant Philippa could not think at all as she gazed up at him. His doublet was undone and she could see the dark hair on his chest. Had she done that? Then she realised that the fastenings were undone on her bodice, and her fingers sought them. The need to be close, skin to skin, had been powerful.

  He gazed at her, and almost flung his scruples aside. ‘Could you be content, knowing naught of your past?’ he said vehemently.

  ‘I thought we — we were to forget the past — nor to think of the future, but to live for the moment?’ Her voice shook.

  ‘I thought we could, but they cannot be separated. I know the one and can perhaps foresee the other, and one cannot live a lie always.’

  ‘No,’ she whispered, suddenly apprehensive.

  ‘You are my brother’s betrothed! You are Philippa Cobtree — not her cousin. The woman who says she is so is your maid, Rose.’ He rubbed his forehead wearily. ‘I’ll take you back to Hugo in the morning.’

  ‘No!’ she cried, backing away from him. This moment had always been a threat to all her plotting! ‘I — I don’t want to believe that! We must go on to Cobtree,’ desperately, ‘to find out the truth!’

  ‘I’ve told you the truth, and there is no need for you to make su
ch a long journey.’ He lunged and seized her arm, pulling her towards him and gazing into her stricken face. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you in such a way, but there was no other. You’ve been ill, Philippa. Earlier, you talked about dreams and men! Well, they are connected with the revolt on your father’s manor, and maybe it will be too much of a shock for you to go there yet. Later … Later, perhaps, Hugo will take you there and can resolve the situation?’

  She felt cold and sick as she stared up into his sombre face. Her dreams were falling about her ears. ‘And what of — us?’

  His throat moved. ‘There was never any future for us,’ he returned harshly.

  ‘Then why did you not tell me so yesterday instead of bringing me so far? Why tell me of “this” between us?’ she insisted despairingly.

  A muscle moved in his cheek. ‘Because of “this”, as you call it! But if matters are as difficult for my brother as Rob hints, I have no cause for making them worse by trying to steal the affections of his betrothed.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter about my feelings? That I care nothing for your brother?’ She wrenched her arm from his grasp.

  He hesitated, then said harshly, ‘When have such feelings mattered in marriage? You once said yourself that love has nothing to do with such a state — and, outside its bonds, love is always ill-fated.’

  ‘And you accept that?’ she demanded, stunned by the swift change in his stance on the subject. Before, he had wanted to forget Hugo, and now …

  ‘I have to. Hugo is my brother! There is no honourable way out of this!’ His voice was heated, his face dark.