His firstborn, the miraculous product of the greatest love of his life, believed herself to be a bastard. Possessing a knowledge that no one else shared, Duke Robert knew otherwise. Megan Glendower and he had been legally wed, albeit in secret. Keely was his legitimate heiress
And therein lay the problem. Though he longed to atone for the pain of the first eighteen years of Keely’s life, Duke Robert couldn’t bear the thought of naming his only son a bastard. Duke Robert straightened away from the wall and squared his shoulders. Henry was innocent of his father’s unintentional bigamy and would not be punished for it.
Duke Robert decided he would do whatever he could for Keely. He'd acknowledge her publicly, present her at court, and make the best possible match for her. Keely deserved a husband who would make her happy, and the wealthy Earl of Basildon appeared to suffer no qualms about her alleged bastardy.
Duke Robert relaxed. He would do whatever he could to further the match. With the Countess of Cheshire’s assistance, he would see Richard and Keely wed before the bells rang in the New Year.
Chapter 4
“Good morning, my dear.”
At the sound of the faraway voice, Keely swam up from the depths of sleep and opened her eyes. She focused on the unfamiliar chamber.
“Time to awaken.”
Keely turned her head toward the voice. Standing beside the bed, Lady Dawn smiled at her.
“Good morning, my lady.” Keely pushed her hair away from her face, rubbed her eyes, and stretched. “What time is it?”
“Twelve o’clock.”
Keely’s gaze slid to the windows. Dim light filtered into the room. “Too bright to be twelve o’clock.”
“Twelve noon on a mostly cloudy day.”
Keely snapped her gaze back to the countess. “That’s impossible. I never sleep through the dawn.”
“As you can see for yourself,” Lady Dawn said, “there wasn’t one today.”
“Dawn always follows night.”
“I suppose it does,” the countess said. “I cannot be certain, however, because I always sleep through it.”
“Dawn is the most inspiring time of day,” Keely said, sitting up. “Would you like me to awaken you tomorrow morning to see it? Which chamber is yours?”
“The duke’s chamber is mine,” Lady Dawn answered, watching for her reaction.
“Then where does His Grace—?” Keely blushed scarlet. “Oh.”
Lady Dawn smiled at the girl’s embarrassment. “Does it bother you that I share your father’s bed?”
“Do you love him?”
“Very much.”
“In that case, sharing his bed doesn’t bother me at all,” Keely said.
“I do believe we shall become great friends,” Lady Dawn said, pleased to have one ally in the Talbot household. “Here’s a tray on the table, and the chamber pot is behind the screen over there. As you can see, the bath in front of the hearth is steaming. I’ll return shortly with a gown.”
“Do not trouble yourself on my account,” Keely said.
“Nonsense.” The countess turned to leave. “I’m delighted you’re here.”
Keely decided to invoke the power of the gods to protect herself. She was a stranger in this household. Who knew what unseen forces were at work here?
Slipping her chemise off, Keely walked to the window. She closed her eyes and pressed the palm of her right hand to its pane in an attempt to get closer to nature’s forces outside.
“Great Mother Goddess, fierce guardian of all your children, I do need your protection,” Keely said. “Join with me and make me bold. Blessings to all spirits who rush to my aid. Between us then is this bargain made.”
After bathing and donning her chemise, Keely wrapped herself in her white ceremonial robe and dragged a chair close to the window. She sat down and watched the clouds break apart. Sunlight kissed the earth below. A good omen?
Keely decided to concentrate on Odo and Hew. Her cousins needed someone to protect them from their own lack of judgment, but each time she tried to visualize them, her powers of concentration failed her. Instead, the Earl of Basildon’s image flitted across her mind’s eye. In spite of the threat he presented, Keely felt strangely safe She knew with her Druid’s instinct that he’d never harm her. It was there in his disarming smile and the gleam in his eyes. If he’d wanted to see her cousins hanged at Tyburn Hill, the earl would have done so already. Unless . . . Dare she hope that her forgetfulness spell had worked?
Keely’s thoughts drifted to the earl’s physical attributes. His fiery copper hair resembled a blazing sunset, and his emerald eyes reminded her of the forests in springtime. Like a pagan god sprung to life, the earl’s perfectly proportioned physique more than pleased the eye. As long as she lived, Keely would never forget her first sight of him walking toward her in that tavern.
Without thinking, Keely caressed her lips with her fingertips. How would his lips feel if pressed against—?
Keely jerked herself up straight, shocked by where her thoughts had roamed. The earl was a dangerous, despicable Englishman. Anathema to her. Wasn’t he? Keely wasn’t as sure about that as she would have been a few days ago.
Lady Dawn returned a few minutes later. She carried a violet and gold brocaded gown with matching slippers.
Keely had never seen so fine a gown in her life. “Those aren’t mine.”
Lady Dawn smiled. “The gown and slippers belong to Morgana, your younger half-sister.”
“I can’t wear another‘s clothing,” Keely refused, though she was unable to hide the longing in her expression as she stared at the beautiful gown.
“Your father bade me choose something pretty for you to wear,” the countess told her.
“Won’t Lady Morgana be angry that I’ve borrowed her gown?”
“Of course. That’s what makes this whole affair so enjoyable.”
“Then I couldn’t.”
“Your father is trying very hard to please you,” Lady Dawn said, giving her a reproving look. “Would you repay his kindness with churlishness?”
His Grace had invited her into his home. In good conscience she could hardly rebuff his intended kindness.
“The violet in the gown almost matches your pretty eyes,” the countess coaxed. “Besides, the Earl of Basildon plans to call upon you today.”
“Why would he wish to do that?”
“Apparently, Devereux is quite taken with your beauty,” Lady Dawn answered. “Your father gave him permission.”
Keely gazed longingly at the offered gown and slippers. “If you really think I should—”
“I do. I’ll even help you with your hair.”
“A countess shouldn’t perform such a menial task.”
“Consider me an aunt,” Lady Dawn said, then frowned. “No, that won’t do. I’m much too youthful to have an eighteen-year-old niece. Think of me as your older and wiser sister.”
Suppressing a smile, Keely donned the gown and slid her feet into the matching slippers. With joy lighting her face, she looked at the countess. “I cannot believe it. They fit perfectly.”
“What a beauty you are,” Lady Dawn said with an approving smile. “Would you like to see yourself?”
Keely nodded, eager as a young girl.
Lady Dawn opened the chamber door and beckoned her to follow. They slipped into a chamber two doors down the corridor. Leading her charge across the chamber, the countess said, “This is your father’s chamber.”
Richly appointed, the enormous chamber sported Persian carpets covering the floor and colorful tapestries decorating the walls. Filtered sun lit the room through the high windows. Behind a screen stood a pier glass.
When Keely stepped in front of it, her mouth dropped open. Was that beautiful young woman really her?
The brocaded gown had a form-fitting bodice and a square neckline. Its long tight sleeves ended in a point below her wrists.
Keely looked and felt like a princess. Her smile was pure joy until he
r gaze touched the exposed slight swell of her breasts above the low-cut neckline. The dragon pendant glittered against the flawless ivory of her skin and drew attention to the crevice between her breasts. Uncertainly, Keely worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
Lady Dawn smiled at her expression. “I’m quite certain Morgana never looked that lovely.”
“Perhaps my own clothing would suit me better,” Keely said. “The bodice is too bold, don’t you think?”
“’Tis virginal by court standards,” the countess disagreed. “Come, my dear. Your father wishes to speak with you.”
Pleased that she needn’t wear her own drab clothing, Keely followed her out of the room. They retraced their steps down the corridor and went downstairs.
“Thank you, my lady,” Keely said before entering the deserted great hall where her father awaited her.
The countess gave her an affectionate hug and then left her there.
Seated in front of the hearth, Duke Robert stood at her entrance. His gaze swept over her from the top of her head to the tips of her feet. Then he started across the hall to greet her.
Disconcerted by his stare, Keely dropped her gaze and enchanted her father with the perfect picture of demure femininity. She looked up when he reached her side.
“You are as lovely as your mother,” Duke Robert said, his voice husky with remembrance. “Sit over here with me.”
“Thank you for the loan of the gown, Your Grace,” Keely said, placing her hand in his.
Duke Robert ignored her formality. He escorted her to one of the two chairs in front of the hearth and then sat down in the other.
Keely folded her hands in her lap and stared at the floor. She felt awkward. For eighteen long years she had yearned for a father, but now that she had him, she didn’t know what to say. Her father was a stranger to her.
Keely stole a glance at him and caught him staring at her. “And thank you for inviting me to stay here last night.”
“This is your home.”
“A house is not a home,” Keely said, gazing at the crackling fire in the hearth instead of at him. “A home is people who love me and whom I can love in return.”
“I love you.”
“You cannot possibly love me,” she disagreed, daring a sidelong glance at him. “You don’t even know me.”
“You are the seed that sprang from my loins,” Duke Robert said, his words making her cheeks pinken. “When you become a mother, you’ll understand how I dare profess my love so easily.”
“If you say so, Your Grace.” Keely stared at the hands she was wringing in her lap.
An awkward silence descended on them. Though it hurt her to do so, pride made her refuse the duke’s offer of love. He’d abandoned her mother. Erasing a lifetime of pain proved impossible.
“I understand your reticence, child,” the duke said. “I ask you, as your father, to grant me the opportunity to earn your love.”
“You sired me,” Keely corrected him, unaware of the accusation in her voice. “You never fathered me.”
Never forget that he hurt Megan, she reminded herself. Never forget that the English, especially their lords, cannot be trusted.
Duke Robert stood and paced back and forth in front of the hearth while he tried to organize his thoughts. He realized his daughter’s wounds were deep and each word he uttered needed to be chosen with care.
To avoid looking at her father, Keely peeked at the great hall. She’d been much too nervous the previous day to give any particular attention to her surroundings.
More impressive than Ludlow Castle’s, this hall sported two massive hearths, one at each end. Overhead were heavy-beamed rafters, from which hung myriad Talbot banners. Brass sconces and vivid tapestries, most depicting the hunt, decorated the walls. One tapestry was different from the others, its motif being a maiden and a unicorn sitting together.
Keely rose from the chair and walked toward it. Something about that particular tapestry called out to her, and she had a powerful urge to touch it. Closing her eyes, Keely placed the palm of her right hand against the tapestry. She could feel her mother’s spirit in it, and the faintest of smiles touched her lips.
Standing close behind her, Duke Robert spoke with a catch of emotion in his voice. “Megan made it for me. That tapestry and the dragon pendant are all that I’ve had of her for eighteen years. Now I have you.”
Keely turned around slowly but kept her back pressed to the tapestry. She needed the assurance of her mother’s presence. Gazing into his violet eyes, so like her own, she said, “You did love her. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I’ve lost more than Megan. I lost the immeasurable pleasure of watching you grow from infant to woman,” Duke Robert said. “In spite of what you think of me, I am your father and have your best interests at heart.”
Keely wet her lips, gone dry from nervous apprehension. If the duke and she were to establish a familial relationship, it had to be based on truth.
“I have a confession to make,” Keely said, then hesitated for a long uncertain moment before continuing. “I am a pagan.”
Duke Robert smiled at her announcement. “Everyone at court behaves like a heathen,” he said. “Excepting Elizabeth and Burghley. You cannot imagine what goes on there.”
“I mean, I believe in the Old Ways,” Keely tried to explain. “Like Megan, I am Druid.”
“Whatever you are can never change the fact that I am your father,” Duke Robert said, surprising her. “I want the chance to know you.”
Keely could only stare at him. Where was the blistering lecture on the dangers and evils of her outrageous beliefs? How could this seemingly kind-hearted man have impregnated and abandoned the woman he loved? Why did he invite her, a virtual stranger, into his home and his heart? Was he a fool? Or was she?
“Will you give me your trust, child?”
Keely lifted her chin a notch. “You have a very poor record on that account, Your Grace.”
His lips twitched. Damn, if the girl hadn’t inherited his pride and his courage along with his violet eyes and his ebony hair. “Will you give me a chance to earn your trust?”
Keely hesitated. The reason she’d traveled to England had been to place herself in his guardianship. Her mother had wanted it so. Finally, she nodded and answered, “Yes, Your Grace.”
“That title is too formal between father and daughter,” Duke Robert said, a relieved smile appearing on his face. “My other children call me Papa.”
Keely had always yearned to speak that word, but the years of suffering proved impossible to dismiss so easily. Though causing another’s pain violated everything she believed, Keely couldn’t stop herself. The duke had abandoned her pregnant mother and, in so doing, had sentenced the babe—namely, her—to a pain-filled childhood. Her need to hurt him as he’d hurt them proved too strong to resist.
Steeling herself against the hope shining at her from his violet eyes, Keely said, “I cannot do that, Your Grace.”
Her words hurt herself as much as him. Keely felt her heart break at the expression of misery that crossed his face. How could his pain match what she’d endured for eighteen years?
Duke Robert drew her into a sideways hug and planted a kiss on her temple. “Whenever you are ready,” he said, “I’d be proud to have you call me Papa.”
A lump of raw emotion formed in her throat, and her bottom lip quivered. Two fat teardrops brimmed over her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
“We’ll have none of that,” Duke Robert said, gently brushing her tears away. “The brightest of futures awaits you in England, and the misery of the past eighteen years will soon begin to fade.”
“I’m too different,” she whispered. “I’m Welsh and don’t belong here.”
“You’re almost as English as I am,” the duke said, tilting her face up and gazing into violet eyes that mirrored his own. “I loved your mother and planned to marry her, but my father convinced me that she had died.”
“If you
truly loved her,” Keely asked, “why didn’t you return to Wales and verify her death?”
“At the time, I had no reason to doubt my father’s word,” Duke Robert answered, his gaze skittering away from hers. “Wouldn’t you believe what I told you?”
“No.” The word fell between them like an ax.
He was hiding something. Keely felt it in her bones and saw it in his eyes. Megan had believed his words of love—but could she?
“Child of my heart,” the duke said, his embrace tightening, “I love you as dearly as my other children. Fortune has gifted me with a second chance, for whenever I look at you, I feel that Megan is near.”
Keely studied his face. That he spoke from his heart was apparent. If he’d truly loved Megan and believed her dead, what misery had he suffered through the years?
“Megan sent you to me,” the duke went on. “You will consider this your home.”
“Odo and Hew—”
“Your cousins are welcome for as long as they wish,” Duke Robert interrupted. “They’re at the stables right now. Would you like to see them?”
“Oh, yes. May I?”
“This is your home, child. You may wander wherever you will. By the way, Merlin is an excellent piece of horseflesh but”—Duke Robert chuckled—”a female.”
Keely beguiled him with a winsome smile. “I know.”
“How you remind me of Megan,” Duke Robert said, and planted another kiss on her temple. “One last question.”
She nodded.
“Under what circumstances did you meet young Devereux?”
“The earl introduced himself to me at the tavern where I was staying.”
“That’s all there was to your meeting?”
Keely cast him a bewildered look. “What else could there be?”
Duke Robert read the innocence in his daughter’s expression and relaxed. “Run along and visit your cousins.”
Keely reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
She left the hall and headed for the main foyer where she spied the duke’s majordomo, Meade. The hapless servant still limped.
“Good day, my lady,” Meade greeted her, opening the door.
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