No reply.
“Henry, do you understand?”
“I understand you have a penchant for trespassing on my property.” The voice belonged to the earl.
Keely looked down, and her mouth formed a perfect O. The earl appeared none too happy. He stood in a challenging stance with his hands resting on his hips.
Keely realized the duke had been correct. The earl’s pinched expression did resemble a man’s with a pike stuck up his— Keely decided to pretend her actions were perfectly normal.
“Good morning, my lord,” she called, masking her unease with cheerfulness. “I’m visiting your garden, not trespassing. A world of difference lies between the two, dearest.”
Richard snorted at the lie. He dropped his gaze from his disobedient betrothed to her cousins. “I heard May and June arguing in the scullery. You have my permission to join them there.”
The two Welshmen turned uncertain gazes on their mistress.
“Will you be all right?” Odo asked her.
“Do you expect me to beat her for climbing my trees?”
Wanting to escape the Englishman’s anger but reluctant to leave their mistress to his mercy, Odo and Hew looked from the earl to Keely. When she nodded, giving her permission, the two Welsh giants hurried away.
Next, Richard turned his blackest scowl on the marquess who outranked him. Henry suffered no qualms about leaving his sister to the earl’s mercy. Without a word, the boy gathered the yew sprigs and started back to Talbot House.
When the earl raised his gaze to his betrothed, Keely had the audacity to give him a disgruntled look. “Why do you intimidate others?” she asked. “Fear is such a negative force.”
“Kindly come down here.”
Keely placed the golden sickle back in her pouch and then leaped to the ground in front of him. Instinctively, Richard reached out to steady her. Though she wasn’t in any danger of losing her balance, Keely threw her arms around his neck. Peering up at him from beneath the heavy fringe of her ebony lashes, she tried to smile as seductively as she could.
“You promised to refrain from flaunting your beliefs,” Richard reminded her, steeling himself against the arousing feel of her body.
“I was preparing for tonight’s celebration.” Keely inhaled his clean masculine scent. “Mmmm. You smell good enough to eat.”
Richard couldn’t prevent the corners of his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. His arms encircled her, and his hands cupped her buttocks through the thin material and yanked her against the male hardness that her words had provoked.
Nuzzling the side of her neck, Richard whispered against her ear. “I saw your lips moving, dearest. You were worshipping, not preparing.”
“You worship gold,” Keely said.
“I worship God,” he corrected her. “I accumulate gold.”
Keely rested her cheek against his chest and felt the rhythmic beating of his heart. “As my own mother passed the Golden Thread of Knowledge to me,” she said, “so shall I pass that Golden Thread to my own children. Do you still wish to marry me?”
Richard tilted her face up and gazed into the most incredible violet eyes he’d ever seen. “Are you trying to dissuade me?”
Keely shook her head. “What I am trying to do is make you understand that I will never forsake the truth. Harmony and beauty exist in my world. The screech of the blue jay, the coo of the mourning dove, and the hoot of the owl are music to my ears. This earthly life is too short to waste arguing with a man who refuses to see what sits in front of his nose.”
She gestured to the three sacred trees. “’Tis the holiest of places. The birch represents birth, the yew symbolizes death and eternity, and the mighty oak opens the gateway to other realms.”
“Are you trying to convert me?” Richard asked, cocking a copper brow at her.
“I would never do that,” Keely said. “You’re much too cynical to believe in anything but gold.”
“Thank you.”
“Your skepticism does annoy me.”
Richard couldn’t credit what he was hearing. How had she managed to put him on the defensive? Reasoning with the truly illogical was an exercise in futility. He offered her a truce. “If I can learn to live with your incantations, will you overlook my skepticism?”
Keely gave him an ambiguous smile. “Perhaps.”
“Will you do me a favor?”
“If ’tis within my power.”
“My mother and Uncle Hal—my stepfather—arrived from Essex last night,” Richard began. “Could you pretend to be civilized?”
Keely cocked an ebony brow in a perfect imitation of his habit. “I am civilized.”
Richard gave her an apologetic grin. “You know what I mean.”
“I’ll consider your request if you join my Samhuinn celebration tonight.”
“I wouldn’t miss Samhuinn for all the gold in London.”
Pleased, Keely gazed up at him with a smile on her face. “May I touch it?”
Richard flushed and his manhood jerked to attention. “To what do you refer, dearest?”
“The fiery crown on the top of your head.”
“Be my guest.”
Keely reached up and, tentatively at first, ran her fingers through his thick mane of copper. “’Tis cool and silky. I thought ’twould be hot.”
“How about a Samhuinn kiss, dearest?” Richard asked.
“When we dance around the bonfire tonight,” Keely promised, stepping back a pace. “Samhuinn begins at sunset. I’ll kiss you then.” She started to turn away, but his voice stopped her.
“You will be meeting my parents at the noon meal,” Richard said. “Think civilized.”
Keely flashed him a dazzling smile and dropped him a throne room curtsy. “Behold, my lord. You see before you a simpering English maiden.” Giving the lie to her words, Keely lifted her skirt and dashed across the lawn toward Talbot House.
Three hours later, Keely stood in front of the pier glass in the ducal bedchamber and eyed herself. She wore a forest green, velvet gown that sported a tight-fitting bodice with a square neckline and long flowing sleeves. The gown’s skirt divided in the front to reveal an underskirt of ivory silk. Her ebony hair cascaded to her waist in pagan fashion, and around her neck gleamed the jeweled dragon pendant.
Meeting the earl’s parents sent her nerves into a tingling riot. What did the dowager countess think of her only son marrying a ducal bastard? And a Welshwoman, to boot. Because the earl had been kind to her, Keely would try her hardest to make him proud. Doubts about her ability to behave like a proper Englishwoman nagged at her. Pretending to be something she wasn’t would be difficult. Besides that, how long was she required to keep the pretense up? For a whole lifetime? Or only until they had married?
Keely studied her betrothal ring. The sight of its precious jewels winking at her from their bed of gold heartened her. The earl believed in her, and failing him was simply out of the question.
Keely crossed the chamber to the window and gazed at the sky’s oceanic horizon. Anticipation of the evening’s festivities swelled within her breast. With all of its potent and unseen forces, Samhuinn held sway as her favorite moment in the year’s cycle and was especially important this year.
The sun rode high in the clear blue sky. Keely knew the Talbots and the Devereux already gathered in the great hall for the noon meal, yet she lingered a moment longer. Pressing the palm of her hand against the window, Keely whispered, “Soon, Mother. Tonight we will be together again.”
Keely squared her shoulders and quit the chamber. Even if it killed her, she vowed to charm her noble in-laws. She prayed the dowager countess would prove as unconcerned with her scandalous birth as the earl had.
Keely stepped into the great hall and hesitated. The two families congregated in front of the hearth, which meant she was late. A pox take her malicious sister, if that one started hurling insults at her in the presence of the earl’s family.
Duke Robert and a graying midd
le-aged man relaxed in the chairs in front of the hearth. The Countess of Cheshire and a petite red-haired woman stood with their backs to the hall’s entrance and listened to their men’s conversation. Young Henry appeared bored by the adult gathering. Standing off to one side, Morgana and Baron Smythe were deep in conversation. The unexpected sight of the baron sent a ripple of unease down Keely’s spine. Her gaze slid to the earl, who'd been staring at the hall’s entrance as if willing her to appear.
Richard cast her his most disarming smile, a smoldering expression that heated the entire hall, and sauntered toward her. Like a pretty flower drawn to the sun’s radiance, Keely started forward at the same time. They met in the center of the enormous chamber.
“Good day, my lord.”
Richard kissed her hand. “You look divine, Keely.”
“Civilized too?” she asked, giving him a jaunty smile.
The earl laughed, drawing the others’ attention. Aware they had an audience, Richard escorted her the remainder of the distance to the hearth.
“Mother and Uncle Hal, I present Lady Keely,” Richard introduced them. “Dearest, I present the Dowager Countess of Basildon and Sir Henry Bagenal.”
In spite of her nervousness, Keely dropped them a graceful curtsy and gave them a serene smile. “I am honored to make your acquaintances,” she said, her gaze fixed on the countess’s hair. “My lady, your fiery crown does resemble your son’s.”
Richard frowned at Keely. If the heathen minx started babbling her nonsense now, he would take great pleasure in boxing her ears.
The dowager countess smiled. “Unlike my son’s, silver strands of snowflakes do douse my own mane’s fire.”
Keely decided she liked the earl’s mother. The countess seemed friendly and, more important, unconcerned with social blunders.
“Call me Louise,” the dowager countess was saying.
“And call me Uncle Hal,” Sir Bagenal added.
“I cannot tell you how pleased I am with Richard’s choice for a wife,” Louise Devereux said.
“And I cannot tell you how pleased I am with the earl’s parents,” Keely returned the compliment. Now what? What should a bride-to-be discuss with her future mother-in-law? What would be a safe subject? If she said too much, she might appear “uncivilized.”
Saving her from making small talk, Duke Robert rose from his chair. “And I’m pleased that everyone else is so pleased,” he said. “We'll eat in the other room.”
The table inside the family dining chamber, located off the great hall, had been set for nine people. Duke Robert and the Countess of Cheshire sat at the ends of the rectangular oak table. Sir Bagenal, the dowager countess, Baron Smythe, and Morgana sat on one side while Keely sat between Henry and Richard on the other.
Several servants beneath Meade's supervision entered with dinner’s first course of barley soup and Colchester mussels with dijon sauce. One servant poured red wine into their crystal goblets, while another placed freshly baked bread and butter beside their plates.
“Tell us about the wedding,” the dowager countess said to her son.
“’Twill be at Hampton Court’s chapel,” Richard said, “and Elizabeth has ordered the staff to plan the affair. Beyond that, there’s nothing more to tell.”
“Show the countess your betrothal ring,” Henry piped up, flicking a smirk across the table at his sister.
Keely glanced sidelong at Richard, who nodded. Then she held her left hand up for the countess to see. “The jewels represent the word dearest,” she said, unable to mask the tender emotion in her voice.
“My son has excellent taste in jewels as well as brides,” the countess remarked. “Did Richard also gift you with that unusual pendant?”
Keely shook her head and dropped her gaze to her plate. “His Grace gifted my mother with it before I was born.”
An awkward silence descended on those seated at the table as they noted the daughter’s formality in referring to her Father. In spite of her father’s august rank, a daughter would call him Papa, not His Grace.
Ashamed both for hurting her father’s feelings and for her illegitimate birth, Keely worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Bastard and pissy ingrate—that was what she was. How could she instantly calm the turbulent emotions she’d harbored for eighteen years?
“’Twill be the wedding of the decade,” the Countess of Cheshire remarked, steering the conversation away from dangerous waters.
“That the Talbots and the Devereux will finally share a bond of blood pleases me immensely,” Duke Robert said, then regretted his words.
Another uncomfortable hush fell over the diners as each person recalled that the earl had considered Morgana until he met Keely. Duke Robert redeemed himself by announcing, “Chessy and I plan to wed the day after Richard and Keely. Of course, ‘twill be a subdued affair, since we’re both long in the tooth and have been married previously.”
“Several times for the countess” Morgana chirped.
The Countess of Cheshire cast the blonde a feline smile. “Some women have no trouble catching any number of husbands, while others, poor dears, cannot seem to attract even one.”
Ignoring this spiteful byplay, everyone started talking at once. The news of two happy events seemed to cheer all but Morgana.
Keely noted her sister’s silence and turned the conversation to a less controversial subject than marriage. “Tell me about Essex,” she said to the earl’s mother. “The earl hasn’t shared much about his home county.”
“Basildon Castle, our ancestral home, is located there,” Louise Devereux told her. “You’ll be its lady after you’re married, though we do employ an excellent staff.”
“Boudicca, the warrior queen, hailed from Essex,” Henry said. “She and her tribe of Iceni destroyed the Roman settlement of Camulodunum before marching on London and destroying that too.”
“I’m glad to hear you’ve learned your history lessons,” Duke Robert complimented his son.
“Essex possesses rich arable soil, where fields of barley and wheat sway in the breezes off the North Sea,” Richard said.
“’Tis bordered in the north by the lush meadows and green trees along the Stour River, and in the south by Tilbury Plain,” Uncle Hal added. “The Thames estuary and the marshes lie to the east, as well as the islands of Convey, Wallasea, Foulness, and Mersea.”
“You’ll love Waltham Forest the best,” Richard said, casting her a knowing smile. “Herds of roe and fallow deer roam there, and the forest contains every kind of tree imaginable.”
“Even oak trees?” Keely asked with a teasing smile.
“Millions,” he answered. “And I’m planning to introduce you to each and every one.”
Louise Devereux sighed inwardly at the bud of love she saw blossoming between her only son and the lovely girl beside him. Her future daughter-in-law wasn’t at all what she’d expected—a fact that pleased her immeasurably. She disliked the shallow misses at the Tudor court.
“Richard made a fortune from Essex’s wool trade and Colchester mussels,” the dowager countess remarked, watching for the girl’s reaction to her son’s great wealth.
Keely cast the earl an admonishing glance. “I do hope you haven’t cheated anyone.”
“I would never do that,” Richard assured her.
“Why should you care if the earl cheats the peasants?” Morgana entered the conversation. “’Twould mean more coins in your pocket if he did.”
“Your thoughts mirror mine,” Baron Smythe said to the blond beauty. “A man needs to look after his own.”
“Farmers and fishermen and merchants are not peasants,” Richard informed them. “Because I treat them fairly, they fight to do business with me. Thus, I accumulate even more gold than I could otherwise.”
“’Tis profitable and honorable,” Keely praised the earl, gazing at him with an expression of adoration.
“Why do you even bother?” the baron asked. “Working is so plebeian, and you have more than enoug
h money.”
“My lord finds a respectable day’s labor most rewarding,” Keely shot back, irritated by the baron’s criticism.
Richard smiled and leaned close. “Sweetheart, I am quite capable of defending the way I choose to live.”
“I would never defend you,” Keely said, feigning innocence, making the earl smile. “I merely wished to explain why you work so hard, in case the baron would care to try it sometime.”
Several servants entered the chamber from the doorway behind the Countess of Cheshire. One man brought bowls of artichokes dressed in oil and vinegar, while another served them turnips and cabbage. A third carried a tray laden with a variety of Cheshire’s best cheeses. Meade walked into the chamber last, and what he carried shocked the watching diners into silence.
Instead of placing the meat platter in front of the duke, as was the custom, Meade set it down before the Countess of Cheshire. It took less than two seconds for Lady Dawn to react to what she saw.
There on the sterling silver tray rested a roasted goose. A gold collar inlaid with diamonds and emeralds adorned what had once been a long neck.
“Anthony,” the Countess of Cheshire cried, and swooned.
Duke Robert leaped out of his chair and raced around the table, while the earl and the baron, seated closer to the unconscious woman, jumped up to assist her and kept her from falling. The duke slapped his beloved’s face lightly. When she moaned and her eyes fluttered open, Duke Robert turned a murderous glare on his majordomo.
Richard heard Henry laughing behind him. He whirled around and caught Keely holding her hand in front of her mouth, while her shoulders shook with suppressed merriment.
Honk! Honk! Honk!
The real Anthony waddled into the room. Behind the goose walked Jasper and Bart.
“My beautiful baby bird.” The countess roused herself enough to break off a piece of bread and offered it to Anthony. The goose gobbled it up and honked for more.
“Return Anthony to the safety of his chamber,” the countess ordered the two boys.
Duke Robert returned to his chair, as did the earl and the baron. The duke leveled a furious stare at his smiling son and his giggling oldest daughter.
Love in a Mist Page 18