Knave of Hearts

by Anton, Shari

  Lady Ursula managed a tight smile. “You must admit we have more to celebrate now than when you were young.”

  She may have a point, but now wasn’t the time to ponder over past hurts, his or hers.

  “Actually, I was thinking Carolyn might have some interest in returning to her tent before evening meal, to refresh herself. The roads to Wilmont were dry and dusty.”

  Carolyn glanced down at her gown. “Oh, my.”

  “As I thought.” Delighted with his flash of insight, Stephen signaled for the nearest serving wench. “Maeve, Lady Carolyn’s tent should be set up by now. Be a dear and show her the way, and assist her if need be.”

  Maeve’s eyes widened in wonder. His mother’s eyes narrowed.

  Carolyn glanced toward the stairway. “Marian—”

  “She will be down when Lady Ardith deems it convenient.”

  Carolyn glanced from Maeve to the stairway. “I would not wish to disturb her ladyship.” She gave his mother a slight curtsey. “My thanks for your forbearance, Lady Ursula.”

  Carolyn nearly ran out of the hall to change her gown.

  “Stephen, you just sent a kitchen wench to play maid to a lady. Whatever were you thinking, especially when her own maid is upstairs and could have been fetched?”

  “Marian is not Carolyn’s maid, Mother, but her cousin, with rank to match.”

  “But her clothing!”

  ’Twas exactly as he’d feared, that people would take one look at Marian and deem her beneath regard because of her less than elegant garb.

  “We suffered a mishap on the road, and I fear Lady Marian’s belongings bore the worst of it. Is it possible to find her a suitable gown and footwear before supper? I do not want her subjected to more embarrassment than she has already endured.”

  She stared at the stairway. “Lady Marian must be sorely tried to find herself in such straits. Now I know why Ardith took her upstairs to the family quarters. Mayhap Ardith has already seen to Lady Marian’s needs.” Her brow furrowed. “A cousin of Carolyn’s you say?”

  “Marian is a de Lacy.”

  “Ah. Well, then, I shall find something decent for her to wear for tonight, at least.”

  Ursula headed for the stairway.

  “Mother.” When she stopped and turned around, he uttered words he rarely used where she was concerned. “My thanks.”

  She looked at him for a long time before her slight nod acknowledged the unaccustomed civility.

  After she disappeared up the stairway, Stephen once more perused the room, contemplating which group might provide the most entertainment or simply cause him the least trouble.

  The great hall’s huge doors burst open, and in walked his brother, a falcon perched on his arm, several men trailing in his wake.

  Saved.

  Gerard, baron of Wilmont—big and blond and obviously in a good mood—searched the room, likely looking for his wife. Stephen angled across the hall to stand square in Gerard’s path.

  Once spotted, Stephen bowed to Gerard’s widening smile. “I fear Ardith is upstairs caring for the babe. You will have to settle for me for company.” He noticed the splotches of blood staining Gerard’s gray tunic and hands. “What happened?”

  “A rabbit should know better than to challenge a horse for right to the road. Stupid creature got stomped on and then flipped up onto my lap.” Gerard handed his bird off to a falconer, then punched Stephen’s arm. “Come up while I change. You can play my squire.”

  “Where is Thomas?”

  “Cleaning the blood off my horse.” Gerard made for the stairway; Stephen kept stride. “How went your journey?”

  “Eventful, but I want to hear about Corwin first.”

  Stephen allowed his brother to lead up the stairs and down the hall to the lord’s chambers, slowing his stride when he passed the room used for the children. Muffled giggles told him all was well within.

  The largest room on the upper floor, the lord’s chamber reflected the personality of its occupants. The large, four-poster bed accommodated Gerard’s size; the elegant draperies surrounding it bespoke Ardith’s taste. The simple clothing chests mirrored his brother’s forthright manner; the carving of a rose, sitting atop a large oak table, hinted at his wife’s whimsy. A clay washbasin on a simple stand revealed practicality.

  As Gerard washed, he told Stephen a fantastical story of how Corwin had ridden off to rescue Judith Canmore and ended up thwarting a rebellion against the crown of England.

  “He is in Westminster now to report on events to King Henry, and to ask royal permission to marry Judith.”

  Stephen whistled low, shocked at his friend’s daring. “A royal heiress for a Saxon knight? Will Henry allow it?”

  Gerard rummaged about in a trunk and came up with a white linen sherte. “We shall see.”

  To a rap on the door, Gerard answered “Come!”

  Gerard’s squire, Thomas, a brown-haired gangly young man, entered the room and closed the door behind him. Amused, he bowed toward Stephen.

  “Talk has it you come home a hero, my lord Stephen. ’Tis not often you jump into rivers to rescue near naked women.”

  Gerard’s eyebrows shot upward. Stephen groaned, wondering how Armand and the wagon drivers had related the tale. Damn, he should have told them all to keep their mouths shut.

  “Marian fell in the river and got caught in the current. I was closest at hand to go after her, is all.”

  Gerard crossed his arms. “I see. Bathing, was she?”

  Stephen recognized the stance and tone of voice, accusatory and disapproving. Hellfire, the last thing he wanted was one of Gerard’s lectures.

  “Nay, Gerard, I was not spying on a woman at her bath. She was fully clothed when she fell in, but ’twas necessary to remove her gown so I could haul her in to shore.”

  “Necessary?”

  “Aye, necessary.”

  “Hmm. Marian? I thought your intended’s name is Carolyn.”

  “Marian is Carolyn’s cousin. I invited her to come with us to talk to Ardith. One of her daughters suffers from severe headaches. She and the girls are with Ardith now.”

  Thomas handed Gerard a deep blue tunic stitched in silver. “Armand says Lady Marian is exquisite.”

  Utterly exquisite, whether fully clothed or in a wet chemise. Armand should have averted his eyes when Marian stood up in the water, but how could he be angry at the man for looking when he’d feasted on the sight himself? Stared hard and long at Marian’s lush curves, at rose-tipped breasts and the shadow at the juncture of her legs. Instead of divesting her of the chemise and taking what she so blatantly offered, he’d covered her with his tunic.

  He knew he’d read her state of mind aright, but perhaps stated his case badly. She’d misunderstood. At no time did he mean to imply she would swive any man who might have come to her rescue. Still, for acting nobly, he now suffered her scorn.

  “Armand should mind his tongue!”

  Taken aback, Thomas tilted his head. “Armand also says her daughters are pretty, and that Lady Carolyn is quite beautiful. Is he wrong to so describe them?”

  Stephen reined in the temper he hadn’t realized he’d let show. Why should he be angry because Armand paid the women compliments? But for some reason he objected to the squire voicing his opinion about Marian, probably because of how much of Marian Armand had seen.

  The woman was driving him mad, scrambling his wits. Last eve she’d offered herself up to him and today she wasn’t speaking to him.

  He wanted Marian so badly the very thought that another man found her attractive fired his jealousy and churned his innards. One way or another he had to banish this craving for Marian. The best way to ease a craving was to satisfy it. He knew every private nook within Wilmont’s walls and a few without. ’Twould not be difficult to find a place, only arrange a time.

  Except he suspected the lady he craved was no longer willing.

  Stephen put his hand on the door latch. “Both women are beauti
ful, both girls pretty. Armand, however, should not be speculating on the attributes of his betters. Until later, Gerard.”

  He left the chamber and slammed the door behind him.

  Gerard slipped the tunic over his head, wondering what in the devil had gotten into Stephen.

  “Thomas, does my imagination run amuck, or is Stephen overly sensitive on the subject of Lady Marian?”

  “If so, then our imaginations run the same way.”

  “I wish to talk to Armand.”

  “At once, my lord.”

  Ardith laid the babe in the cradle, then returned to her chair to rearrange her disheveled gown. “There. That should keep him happy for another few hours. I cannot fathom having to nurse twins. You must have been sore and exhausted all the time.”

  Marian leaned back in her chair, the only other large piece of furniture in the children’s room. “I was. ’Struth, I no sooner finished calming one than the other needed feeding or changing, or so it seemed.”

  Marian glanced over at Audra and Lyssa, who’d taken up position on the thick pallet belonging to Everart, Ardith’s three-year-old son. Everart sat with his half brother, six-year-old Daymon, on Daymon’s pallet. With wooden soldiers arrayed all about them, the girls warred with the boys, taking turns capturing the nursemaid’s pallet that lay on the floor between the contending armies.

  While she wasn’t sure playing at war a good idea for the girls, the two so rarely had the chance to play with other children that Marian didn’t take issue.

  Ardith chuckled softly. “Look here. Daymon considers himself a master strategist. He is scheming again.”

  Indeed, mischief sparked the boy’s green eyes, as green as Stephen’s. ’Twas a mark of the males of the family, Ardith had explained. Both blond-haired, green-eyed boys resembled their father, while the newest babe, Matthew, bore his mother’s auburn hair and azure blue eyes. While one might think Ardith would show a marked preference for the children of her body, she seemed to love Daymon as much as her own.

  Unusual for a noblewoman to lovingly accept her husband’s illegitimate offspring. But then, Ardith and Daymon had been through some trial together, so perhaps had grown close because of it. Ardith hadn’t elaborated on the event for which she considered Stephen a hero.

  Unusual, too, for a noblewoman to nurse her babes. Most preferred to hire a wet nurse. Stephen considered the woman remarkable and Marian was inclined to agree.

  Daymon let out a war cry and swooped down on the nursemaid’s pallet, scattering wooden soldiers over all three pallets and the floor. A thorough victory. The girls squealed their delight.

  “Gets it from his father,” Ardith commented wryly, then stood up. “As much as I would prefer to hide out up here, I have guests below. First, however, we must find you better-fitting footwear.” Marian opened her mouth to object; Ardith raised a staying hand. “I will not have one of my guests falling on her face in the hall. Indulge me.”

  Marian didn’t have time to answer. At a rap on the door, Ardith open it to admit three beautifully garbed women. Marian didn’t recognize the two who carried boots, but the third, with a sky-blue gown draped over her arm, was Stephen’s mother.

  Marian rose from her chair, struck again by the resemblance between Stephen and his mother. Raven hair. Olive skin. Classic features. Only the eye color differed. And expression. Where Stephen tended to smile, his mother leaned to austerity.

  Ardith grinned. “Lady Ursula, did you read my mind, then? Is the gown one of Christina’s?”

  “As are the boots,” Ursula answered. “Stephen told me of Lady Marian’s plight. Judging by my quick glimpse of her before she came up with you, I thought Marian and our Christina might be of a size.”

  For me. Marian felt her cheeks go pink.

  “I had the same thought.” Ardith took the gown and held it up. “I believe we are right about the size. What think you, Marian?”

  Stephen shouldn’t have meddled, should never have bothered his mother on her account. She needed no gown. If she had, however, the beautiful light-blue linen might fit. A pretty color, more lighthearted than the browns and grays she’d been wearing lately.

  “I thank you both for your thoughtfulness, however, ’tis not necessary.”

  Lady Ursula’s brow scrunched in confusion. “Stephen said you endured a mishap on the road, that your belongings suffered. He worried you had nothing suitable to wear for evening meal. Was he mistaken?”

  She’d brought no garment along suitable for a meal within Wilmont’s grand great hall because she didn’t plan to mingle with the family or their guests. Stephen wouldn’t have known that, however. Had he guessed?

  “Well, nay, but I would not deprive another of her gown for my convenience. The girls and I will retire to the tent and take our supper from the supplies we brought along.”

  Ardith’s smile never faltered. “’Tis kind of you to think of the gown’s owner, but all of our ladies have gowns aplenty, so you do not deprive Christina. Truly, there is no reason for you to eat alone when you can do so in company. Afterward, mayhap you and I can continue our talk.”

  While Ardith fed the baby, they’d talked about many things, mostly about their children, and touched on the subject of Lyssa’s headaches. ’Twas tempting to accept, yet there were other reasons for declining to sup in the hall, none of which she could explain to Ardith or Ursula.

  “I fear the girls have nothing suitable to wear, either. And both will tire soon from the day’s journey. I would hate to have them disrupt—”

  Ardith waved a dismissing hand. “Daymon and Everart have their supper up here. The children take nooning with us, but with so many guests about, by supper have need to escape all the attention. The girls could eat up here with the boys, with a nursemaid to watch over them.”

  Then the girls wouldn’t be among people who might shun them, or notice their black hair matched that of Stephen and his mother. Too, tonight might be her only chance to talk further with Ardith. Still, the girls feelings must also be considered. Marian took the few steps necessary to speak softly to her hostess.

  “Last night’s incident frightened the girls,” she told Ardith. “They have been a scarce few feet from my side all day. I fear they would be upset.”

  With a thoughtful expression, Ardith glanced at the children. “Aye, I see your worry. If they agree, however, a couple of hours of separation might be good for all of you.”

  Marian saw the sense in it, too. And, damn, but the idea of spending an evening in the great hall tugged hard. She’d been all of ten and six the last time she attended a great feast. There hadn’t been an occasion at Branwick to warrant one; both of Carolyn’s marriages had taken place at her husbands’ holdings and Marian hadn’t attended. Down in the great hall there would be food aplenty and entertainments. She hadn’t realized, until now, how much she’d missed those enjoyments. She knew few of the guests, would be just one more lady in the crowd. What harm could come from spending a pleasurable hour or two among Wilmont’s guests, if the girls were agreeable?

  The babe would require a feeding later, and when Ardith came up, Marian would, too, and finish their talk about Lyssa’s headaches. She could then fetch the girls and retire to the tent, there to stay until the return to Branwick.

  Marian turned to see all four children standing near the pallets. Naturally, they’d heard most of the conversation. The girls looked worried. Marian set her resolve and, with a slight hand motion, beckoned the girls to her. They crossed the room slowly. Not a good sign.

  She placed a hand on each of her daughter’s shoulders.

  “Lady Ardith has invited me to sup down in the great hall. As I am sure you heard, the two of you are welcome to remain up here with Daymon and Everart, with their nursemaid to watch over you. Would that bother you overmuch?”

  The girls exchanged a glance Marian had become accustomed to over the years, a silent communication between them when a joint decision must be made, a judging of how the other fel
t on the matter.

  Audra looked up first. “Will you be gone long?”

  Marian shook her head. “Nay, only for the supper. When next Lady Ardith comes up to feed Matthew, I will come with her. Nor will I be far away, just down the stairs. Should you need me, you need only send for me.”

  Lyssa looked to Ardith. “Will Stephen be there?”

  The question rocked Marian, but she understood. He’d been her rescuer last night.

  “Aye, Lyssa, he most certainly will be,” Ardith said. “I assure you, we will all watch over your mother most carefully. And I think you will like Gwyneth, who will watch over you. She knows many children’s games.”

  The girls exchanged another look, made a decision.

  Lyssa spoke for them. “’Tis all right, then.”

  Marian bent down and gave them both a hug. The nursemaid was sent for, and Marian approved of the young woman’s cheerful demeanor. With the children once more set to play, Marian followed the women out into the hall, headed for Ardith’s solar.

  “We must rush somewhat,” Ursula said. “Gerard has returned so everyone will begin sitting to table soon.”

  Ardith slowed her steps. “Ah. Mayhap I should go down, then, to ensure proper seating. Marian, might I leave you to Ursula’s care?”

  “Of course, I—” Marian stopped. “Dear me, I forgot all about Carolyn. She will need my help to make herself ready.”

  Ursula shook her head. “Carolyn has gone out to the tent to set her gown to rights.” She turned to Ardith and rolled her eyes. “Would you believe Stephen sent Maeve out to help? I took the liberty of sending Christina out, too. I do not know what the boy was thinking to assign a kitchen wench a handmaiden’s duties.”

  Ardith laughed lightly. “I doubt Stephen knows the difference. Truly, he may sometimes not say or do the right thing, but his intentions are always good.”

  Marian entered the solar to change, determined to have a pleasant evening. She shrugged off her problems with the brown peasant-weave, and allowed the sky-blue linen to brighten her mood. For the next two hours she would enjoy herself, forget her cares. Time enough later to take them back up again, when once more she donned the brown gown.