Love in a Mist

by Patricia Grasso

  “Tally, where are you?” Lady Dawn called.

  “Here.” The voice sounded from inside one of the stables.

  Lady Dawn rushed inside. Duke Robert, Odo, and Hew were inspecting the hooves of one of his horses. This was even better than she had planned.

  “I found this in Keely’s chamber,” the countess said, waving a piece of parchment in the air. “You’ll be interested in reading it.”

  “Later, Chessy,” the duke snapped without looking up. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  The countess curled her lip at his back. “’Tis important.”

  “I’m listening. Read it.”

  “Very well.” Lady Dawn opened the parchment and began in a sultry voice, “‘My dearest beauty . . .’”

  The three men stopped what they were doing and looked at her.

  Pleased that she had an attentive audience, the countess read with feeling: “‘Losing my temper was unforgivable, but can you fault me for wanting you in my bed forever? What we shared the other day was paradise. Come to me, my darling. I long to feel your silken—’”

  “Where is she?” the duke demanded.

  Lady Dawn fixed a frightened expression onto her face. “V-v-visiting the earl.”

  Duke Robert dashed out of the stable, with Odo and Hew hard on his heels. A smile of satisfaction appeared on Lady Dawn’s face, and then she hurried after them. She wouldn’t miss this for all the diamonds in England.

  “You can’t go up there,” Jennings insisted, blocking the stairway as the three gigantic men tried to rush past him.

  As if he were no bigger than a gnat, Duke Robert lifted the man and tossed him across the foyer. With the duke in the lead, the avenging horde of three flew up the stairs.

  “Devereux,” Duke Robert shouted, barging into the earl’s bedchamber.

  “No,” Keely cried as her father and cousins crashed into the room.

  Richard leaped off the bed and blocked her from view, giving Keely a chance to cover her bared breasts. Though courageous by nature, Richard possessed a healthy instinct for survival, which made him step back a pace. He’d expected only the duke to discover him in this untenable position. Was three-against-one Cheshire’s idea of a joke?

  The angry intruders advanced on Richard. Three fists aimed for his handsome face. Duke Robert’s fist reached it first, hitting the earl’s right cheekbone, sending him whirling to the left. Odo’s fist met the earl’s left cheekbone there, and Richard whirled back to the right. Hew’s fist caught his face dead center, sending him sprawling to the floor.

  “Richard.” Keely dropped to her knees beside him. She cradled his head against her chest and glared at her rescuers. “I’ll never forgive you for hurting him.”

  Richard grinned stupidly at her. “Hello, Beauty.”

  “Prepare yourself for a wedding, Devereux,” Duke Robert growled. “I’ll be speaking with the queen in the morning.”

  “I can’t marry him,” Keely cried.

  “You’ll marry Devereux,” her father threatened, “or I’ll be forced to kill him.”

  The Countess of Cheshire arrived at that moment. She wrapped her cloak around Keely’s shoulders and helped her rise.

  Duke Robert lifted his future son-in-law to his feet. “Report to the queen in the morning, or I’ll brave the Tower by shackling and dragging you to the altar.” The duke gestured to the countess and the Welshmen, then followed them out of the room.

  “Please, I don’t want to marry,” Keely pleaded as the countess led her down the corridor to the stairs. She looked back to see Richard following them. Even in the corridor’s dim light, his face appeared battered, but his step was spritely.

  No limp, registered in Keely’s mind. Nothing wrong with his blasted ankle.

  A defeated sob escaped her. The earl had stolen her virtue in order to force her to the altar. If only her father and her cousins hadn’t discovered her in that untenable position, she could have denied losing her innocence. Why had the Mother Goddess forsaken her? Would she ever find happiness or a place where she could belong? Or would she always be an outsider?

  “If Devereux doesn’t make you happy,” Duke Robert promised, “I’ll cut his heart out with a dull blade.”

  His words brought tears to Keely’s eyes. She didn’t want a husband who made her unhappy. Nor did she want Richard hurt for ruining her life.

  “Devereux is richer than the pope,” the countess told her, offering her own special brand of comfort as they started down the stairs. “Consider the jewels and the gowns that will be yours.”

  “I don’t want jewels and gowns,” Keely sobbed.

  “Swallow your tongue,” the countess snapped. “What is it you want?”

  “I want love.”

  The heart-wrenching sound of her sobs drifted to the top of the stairs where Richard stood. He smiled in spite of the pain it caused his swelling face. He wanted the exotic beauty in his bed. The Duke of Ludlow was about to gift him with what he desired.

  “Jennings, I need you,” Richard called, holding the palms of his hands to his throbbing face.

  “Coming, my lord,” the majordomo called. “As soon as I lift myself off the floor.”

  Chapter 7

  Autumn wore its most serene expression early the following morning. Clear blue skies kissed the distant horizon, and gentle breezes caressed the land, promising a day of rare perfection.

  Oblivious to the paradise around her, Keely sat between Duke Robert and Lady Dawn. Their canopied barge wended its way down the Thames River toward Hampton Court, situated twelve miles southwest of London.

  Keely would have enjoyed her first excursion on the river, but apprehension blinded her to the idyllic scenery. She could hardly believe she was floating down the Thames to meet the English queen and beg permission to wed the conniving earl.

  Richard Devereux was the last man in the world Keely would choose for a husband. His handsome face and courtly manner did attract her, but he was too arrogant, too smooth, and too English.

  Keely would refuse to become trapped in a loveless marriage. She’d already suffered a near loveless childhood. There had to be a way to prevent this fiasco. How could she survive in the land of her enemy if she married a man who didn’t love her?

  “Accompanying you to court is unnecessary,” Keely said, glancing sidelong at her father. “As is marriage with the earl.”

  “I told you several times, the queen may wish to meet you before agreeing to the union,” Duke Robert said. “My mind is set. I will debate the point no further.”

  Why wouldn’t he listen to reason? She’d always yearned for a father but had never realized how overbearing one could be.

  “You absented yourself from my life for eighteen years,” Keely reminded him. “How do you dare drop into it now and order me about?”

  “You dropped into his life,” Lady Dawn defended the duke. “English children obey their parents.”

  “I’m Welsh.”

  “Enough,” Duke Robert ordered, his voice rising with his annoyance. To Keely, he added, “Your cousins agree with my decision.”

  “I apologize to both of you,” Keely said. “Fear incites me to disrespect and unkindness.”

  “There’s naught to fear,” the countess assured her, reaching out to pat her hand.

  Duke Robert put an arm around his daughter and drew her close. “Chessy will explain all that a bride needs to know so you needn’t be nervous.”

  “I don’t belong here,” Keely cried, looking at him through eyes brimming with tears. “Everyone will laugh at me. The earl will grow to hate me. I’m nobody.”

  “Marrying the Earl of Basildon will gain you instant acceptance,” Lady Dawn told her. “The most popular courtiers will be seeking your company.”

  “Here we are,” Duke Robert said as their barge stopped beside the quay.

  On what seemed like acres of manicured lawns stood Hampton Court, with its endless roofline of turrets, pinnacles, and chimney stacks. Tr
ees, hedges, and shrubs grew as far as the eye could see.

  “This has more the appearance of heaven than an earthly residence,” Keely murmured, awed by the spectacular sight.

  Duke Robert smiled. “Old King Henry loved to impress. Hampton Court is his monument to himself.”

  The palace was a beehive of activity. Horses clattered continuously through the courtyard. Tradesmen with carts of foodstuffs, purveyors of finery and jewelry, and noblemen with their families arrived and departed with hope in their eyes or disappointment etched across their faces.

  Keely stared in wonder at the perpetual movement swirling around her. Hampton Court was a city unto itself, and its constant motion was dizzying.

  “No one lives comfortably here,” Duke Robert admitted.

  “The nobles come for power,” Lady Dawn said.

  “Or its illusion,” the duke added.

  Walking between them, Keely looked from her father to the countess. This was their world. Megan could never have belonged here. And neither did her daughter.

  “People come to court for wealth,” the countess told her.

  “Or the promise of it,” the duke qualified.

  “They come for advancement and fame.”

  “And often leave in disgrace because of the notoriety they achieve.”

  Entering the palace proper, Duke Robert ushered his ladies through a maze of corridors and long galleries. Servants, dressed in blue livery, carried trays of food. A squadron of grooms, their arms laden with firewood, scurried to deliver their loads to the yeomen who waited to lay fires in the hearths.

  As Duke Robert escorted Keely and Lady Dawn through the labyrinth of Hampton Court, highborn men and their ladies called out friendly greetings to them and paused to stare at the young beauty who accompanied the duke and the countess.

  Fascinated by the nobleman and their ladies, Keely returned their stares. The women wore stiffened farthingales beneath their low-cut gowns, and as many jewels as they could put upon their person. The men wore tight, knee-length breeches and brocaded doublets trimmed with lace and buttoned with jewels. Bright silk stockings, garters fringed with gold spangles, and leather shoes adorned with stylish rosettes accessorized their outfits. Some men even wore earrings and rouged their cheeks.

  “I am out of place,” Keely whispered, feeling like a sparrow set down in a cage of peacocks.

  “Natural beauty like yours startles their artificiality,” the countess said, nodding at a group of passersby.

  When they stood outside the audience chamber, Keely began wringing her hands in anxiety. “What will we do now?”

  “Relax,” the countess said

  “And wait,” the duke added.

  Long silent moments passed. Keely glanced down the corridor and saw two men, dressed completely in black, advancing on them. In their somber attire, they looked as out of place as she felt. It was as if two hawks had invaded an aviary of canaries.

  Keely realized that the taller of the men was Richard Devereux, his two blackened eyes matching the bleak color of his clothing. The sight of his battered face made her wince inwardly. She wasn't worth what he’d suffered. Her fingers itched to touch his bruises and vanquish his pain with her magic.

  As the two men neared, Keely dropped her gaze to the floor. That she knew of their presence became apparent in the telling blush heating her cheeks.

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” Richard greeted them.

  “Basildon.” Duke Robert nodded. “Burghley.”

  “My dear countess,” Richard said, bowing over Lady Dawn’s hand. He turned then to Keely, kissed her hand, and smiled. “Rising early enhances your beauty, dearest.

  Richard turned to his middle-aged companion and said without any trace of shame, “Lord Burghley, I present Lady Keely Glendower, Ludlow’s natural daughter and, I hope, my intended wife.”

  The earl felt no shame about her bastardy, but Keely did. She lowered her gaze and dropped the lord a curtsy.

  “Good morning, young lady,” Burghley said, giving her an appraising stare. As if satisfied by what met his perceptive gaze, Burghley turned away and nodded at the guards in front of the audience room. Then he entered the chamber and left the four of them standing in silence to await the queen’s pleasure.

  Uncomfortably, Keely felt the earl’s gaze on her. She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and implored the Mother Goddess to aid in the earl’s recovery. Her lips moved with the silent prayer.

  “Are you praying the queen will refuse my suit?” Richard asked.

  Keely opened her eyes. “My lord, I do pray for your health.

  That admission brought a smile to his lips. “You look especially lovely today. The pink of your gown enhances the maidenly blush on your cheeks.”

  The audience chamber’s door opened. Lord Burghley beckoned Duke Robert and Richard inside, leaving Lady Dawn and Keely waiting in the corridor.

  “Relax, darling,” the countess said. “You’re the perfect mate for Devereux.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Marrying you will give him what he desires most: you, a blood bond with your father, and possibly a tour of duty in Ireland. If he still wants one after marrying you.”

  “What have I to do with Ireland?” Keely asked.

  “No aristocrat may serve abroad until he sires an heir,” the countess told her. “The earl’s oldest sister lives in Ireland, but I doubt the Queen would part with her most valued financial advisor.”

  That information didn’t sit well with Keely. The thought of providing an heir made her think of Madoc Lloyd killing her mother with myriad miscarriages.

  “The earl is a handsome man,” Keely said. “Dozens of women would gladly marry him and produce his requisite heir.”

  “Those dozens of women are not you.”

  Keely made no reply. The countess was kindhearted but illogical. Beyond her physical body, a penniless bastard had nothing to offer England’s premier earl.

  “Here comes trouble,” Lady Dawn said.

  Keely glanced down the corridor. Two young women were hurrying toward them.

  “Lady Jane is married but desires bedsport with the earl,” the countess whispered. “Lady Sarah, the blonde, is angling to get Devereux to the altar.”

  The two fashionably dressed ladies greeted the countess deferentially. Both women spared a curious peek at Keely.

  “We thought we saw Burghley and Basildon headed in this direction,” Lady Jane said.

  “Have you seen them?” Lady Sarah asked. “We have something important to discuss with the earl.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Lady Dawn purred, “but both men attend the queen. Even now, the earl is requesting the Duke of Ludlow’s daughter in marriage.”

  Lady Jane could not have cared less, but Lady Sarah was unable to hide her disappointment. “How lucky Morgana is,” she said.

  “Not Morgana, darlings. The earl desires a union with the duke’s other daughter,” the countess told them, enjoying herself. “Allow me to present Lady Keely Glendower, the Duke of Ludlow’s oldest and prettiest daughter.”

  Keely managed a faint smile. She could read in their shocked expressions what they were thinking: a bastard.

  “Congratulations,” Lady Sarah said.

  “My very best,” Lady Jane added, appraising her newest rival’s charms.

  Without another word, the two young women walked away. They wanted to be the ones to spread the news that England’s most eligible bachelor was marrying a ducal bastard.

  “A bit of advice, darling,” Lady Dawn said, watching the women leave. “At court, friends come and go, but enemies tend to accumulate. Trust no one but your husband and your family.”

  While the countess was imparting her knowledge about life at court, tempers flared inside the royal audience chamber. Irritated with her enraged favorite duke, Queen Elizabeth frowned at him while Lord Burghley, her most trusted minister, simply shook his head in disgust at the whole sordid affair. Only Richa
rd appeared relaxed and placid, though shockingly battered.

  “Either Devereux marries her,” Duke Robert ranted, “or I’ll kill him.”

  “Spare Us your dramatics, Ludlow,” the queen snapped. “More pressing problems than your bastard’s tarnished reputation require Our attention.”

  At the royal reprimand, the Duke of Ludlow clamped his mouth shut.

  “Basildon agrees to the match,” Elizabeth continued, “but We want to see the chit first.”

  “Keely is waiting with Lady Dawn in the corridor,” the duke said.

  “And what has Cheshire to do with this nasty business?” the queen demanded.

  Duke Robert flushed. “When Keely arrived, the countess happened to be visiting and offered to help me get her settled.”

  “How exceedingly kind of her,” Elizabeth said, her tone dry. “Tell Cheshire to attend Us also.”

  Duke Robert bowed and marched the length of the enormous chamber to the door to beckon them inside. Smiling, the Countess of Cheshire held her charge’s trembling hand as they walked forward. Keely and the countess swept deep curtsies when they reached the queen.

  “Rise,” Elizabeth bade them.

  Keely looked up and became blinded by the queen’s brilliance. Elizabeth’s red-gold hair was the fiery color of the setting sun, and her sharp gray eyes resembled fine mist. She wore a bright yellow gown and a fortune in diamonds and pearls upon her person.

  “She has the look of you,” Elizabeth remarked to the duke. To Keely, she said, “What have you to say in defense of yourself, child?”

  Keely couldn‘t find her voice. How did a mere mortal converse with a goddess?

  “Speak up,” Elizabeth snapped.

  The sharp command startled Keely. Her glorious violet eyes widened, and nervous tremors shook her whole body. “I am honored to be in the presence of Your Majesty and regret this unnecessary annoyance to your peace,” Keely said. “I know you have important matters of state to ponder, and I apologize for wasting part of your valuable day.”

  “The chit may be a Welsh bastard,” Elizabeth said to the duke, “but she's inherited your courtier’s instincts.” The queen looked at Keely and said, “Child, speak briefly and truthfully. Did my dear Midas compromise your virtue?”