He straightened up. "You wax too serious, lady. There is another set forming. Come, let us forget the whims of the mighty for a small moment." He put his arm beneath her elbow, turning her in the direction of the dancers. She should have declined but his touch sent a shiver of excitement up her arm. Was it imagination or did the other women glance enviously at them as they made their way through the throng? He was a new face, a pleasing one at that.
Margery regarded him gravely as she took her place opposite him at the end of the set. There was spice in any conversation with him, she could not deny it. And he was watching her again, his smile controlled but with an edge of mischief, giving her the same wholehearted interest he had given Ankarette. But there was a difference—when Richard Stone had smiled that way before, she had ended up utterly in his power. There was always that dangerous air about him that placed her instincts upon alert.
As their right hands met to clasp as they circled, she was astonished at the jolt her body felt. Like earth juddered by a thunderclap, a feeling so difficult to describe in words yet it moved from some center in her being and shivered through her body. She felt it every time he touched her.
They had reached the top of the set now and he sped her up the colonnade of clapping dancers, spun her around, left her as they each hand-chained their way down the lines to meet with hands around each other's waist to finally stand laughing, warm, and breathless opposite each other, clapping while the new lead couple took over. She suddenly wished with all her heart that they had met in different circumstances.
No, she chided herself, she must constantly remember that when he was being charming his tongue could sting like nettles if it pleased him.
When the musicians ended, there was color in her cheeks.
"Mistress." He bowed gracefully over her hand, the green eyes brimming with amusement. "I look forward to renewing our acquaintance even further."
Her tone was tart as crab apples as she sank into a curtsy. "I think there will be little opportunity, sir."
The banns were called at mass again next morning, sending Margery into such a state of inward panic that she was scarce aware of the buzz of conversation about her or a page's tug at her sleeve, summoning her to attend the lord of Warwick.
The Earl was waiting for her in his solar.
"My dear Margery," he exclaimed as she made obeisance to him. "I am so pleased at your change of heart that I have decided to hold your wedding this week. Since your bridegroom is busy on my behalf, it will be more convenient to have it all signed and sealed immediately."
Her dismay was obvious. "My lord, you ride roughshod over my feelings. I am against this marriage. What makes you suddenly think otherwise?"
Her guardian gave a snort of disbelief. "Ah, no, you merely flirt and dance with the man as if you care for him. Have you no shame?"
"I danced with one man last night. Ankarette danced with him too…" She faltered and her eyes flew to Warwick's as shock and disbelief flooded across her face. She wanted to sink down onto a stool; surely her legs would collapse beneath her.
"Come, let us be done with this fast-and-loose nonsense. You are marrying Richard Huddleston and have done. Ah, Richard lad, Margery is a little overcome at the haste of all this, but I have explained the situation."
Richard Stone came through the doorway, removing his plumed hat, and bowed to the Earl. If he knew Margery's appalled eyes were upon him, he seemed unruffled.
"My lord. I think it may be the matter of my horse's tail." He looked around at her now. Did the Devil look so on the acquisition of a new soul? Oh, Jesu, how could she be so stupid? His name was not Stone. Agnes Guppy had told her wrongly. After all, the old woman was quite deaf. All that time he must have thought she had been deliberately calling him so to rile him. He was Richard Huddleston.
Be calm, talk yourself out of this, an inner voice advised. Calm? When the deceitful knave was deliberately reminding her who had won all their past battles!
"No, sirrah, it is the matter of you! I had rather wed a heathen than be yoked to you in matrimony. As I have made very clear, my lord of Warwick, one, I do not want to marry; two, I do not want to marry this week; and, three, I do not want to marry Master Richard Sto—Huddleston."
"At least you have finally gotten my name right at last." Richard laid his hat and gloves on the table. "My lord, there has been some misunderstanding. It seems the lady thought that she was marrying someone else."
The Earl, appearing half-irritated, half-indulgent at their quarrel, glanced sharply at Margery. "Is this true, child?"
"Yes, my lord." Her fingers writhed in front of her. "You led me to expect it was someone of your lordship's years. Old was the word, you used, I recollect."
"Old!" Richard regarded the Earl with polite astonishment.
Warwick snorted. "So now he's not old, he's known to you, and he wants to marry you, though why I cannot imagine, and I want you off my hands, Margery, so there's an end to it. What pleases me and Master Huddleston shall satisfy you. I have two emissaries arriving from the King of France the day after tomorrow. You will be wed before mass and I shall feast you together with the French lords. Tomorrow, Huddleston, we shall hunt."
Margery fleetingly closed her eyes and gave an angry sigh, prepared to sweep away in dignity before tears overwhelmed her. Huddleston stepped to block her way. She refused to look at him. "My lord," he said across her shoulder to the Earl. "Permit me to speak to my betrothed privily. This is obviously a shock to her." She flinched at the word betrothed, recoiling as if he had struck her.
The Earl shrugged. "Well, I supposed there is no impropriety in that since you will soon be man and wife. You may speak with one another here but there is the contract to draw up, so make haste."
Huddleston bowed as the Earl passed them but remained an obstacle between Margery and the door. She turned away from him, her eyes on the ceiling. It was pain enough to endure being married to a stranger, but that it was Richard Huddleston! She cursed herself for a blind and stupid fool.
His voice was kind. "Mistress Twynhoe told me last night that you did not realize that my name was Huddleston. I had no intention of misleading you, believe me."
Margery took a deep breath, her shoulders proud. "Master Huddleston, I value my freedom. I repeat that I do not want to marry anyone. I will not be sold like some paynim slave to a harem. I came here this morning expecting a public apology and instead…" She waved her hands in despair.
"If it is the business of my horse's tail that still angers you then I admit my error. You have my belated but humble apology." The humility in his voice sounded genuine enough but she turned to see if the sincerity was in his eyes. It was, but he was playing kind, of course.
"No, it— Yes, of course it is your horse's tail and all your insults. How dared you abuse me so for your amusement because I am a landless woman and lack a father's name! Do you imagine I have no feelings because I was born in some unblessed bed?"
"Lady, you shall have land, name, and your bed will be blessed."
The blood flooded into her cheeks at the thought. "Blessed, sir, with you in it? I do not know why you have chosen me as a butt for this madness of yours but please change your mind. It will not suit. It will be a marriage made by the Devil."
He laughed and half seated himself on the edge of the table, one leg swinging. "I am resolved on it." He selected an apple from the silver platter and bit into it with his fine white teeth.
Margery's hands curled into fists at her side and she paced the room before she swung back to confront him. "Why do you want to enslave me? What have I ever done to you? Why should it be your choice? Why cannot it be mine?"
"Because I know what is best for you." Warwick's voice came from behind her. Huddleston slid off the table respectfully to face the Kingmaker. The Earl's hands settled upon Margery's frozen shoulders, his breath was upon her cheek. "I make this marriage for you out of loving kindness, child. Trust me in this." He put a finger beneath her chin and
made her look at him. "A firm hand is needed on your bridle, Margery. Once you start bearing you will no doubt calm down and become a sensible wife and mother."
"I am not a horse!" she exclaimed holly, and snatching up her skirts, she fled.
Richard left the Earl some half hour later well pleased with the bargain. Everything was going according to his plans. Warwick's fondness for the girl and his determination to dispose of his defiant ward had permitted Richard to demand a higher dowry. Of course, it was all on paper but six manors definitely made it worthwhile.
He was not expecting a slender female hand to reach out from behind a curtain and grab the coney-fur tip of his hanging sleeve. His right hand flew to the handle of his sword as he whirled around.
"By Christ's blessed mercy, lady!" He slid the sword back into its black scabbard as he recognized that the blue brocade enclosing the feminine arm belonged to the gown Margery had been wearing.
Her face peeped out at him. "Could we please speak about this matter?" Pink tinged the white around the delightful blue of her eyes, hinting at angry tears. He hated seeing her distressed but one needed to break eggs to make a custard. What was the little witch up to now?
"Right willingly, mistress, but it seems there is little more to say unless you have changed your mind. This curtain is mighty dusty. Do we have to stand behind it like lovers? Is this locked?" She gave an angry growl. He rattled the door ring. It opened onto a small storeroom stacked with broken benches, brooms, and buckets. "Hardly something out of a French romance. Would you prefer somewhere with tapestries?"
His betrothed stamped her foot at him. He grinned at her, reveling in his consistent ability to arouse the desire in her to hit him.
"I think we should discuss this marriage in a sensible manner, sir. You will have to persuade my lord to reconsider this match."
"You want to marry someone else?" If she did, would he change his mind? There went that little foot again.
"No Master S—Huddleston, I thought I made it clear I do not want to marry anyone."
"Least of all me." He allowed the good humor to fade from his voice.
"Thank goodness, you are intelligent enough to see that."
"May I ask why?"
"Why?" she spluttered. "Because we do not like each other."
"I am sorry I teased you."
"Teased me! You taunted, insulted, and riled me. Your arrogant behavior was insufferable. Just because I have no parents…"
"And a doubtful reputation."
"Exactly. I am quite unsuitable for you. I am sure your parents—if you have not annoyed them to an early grave— would not approve."
"I admit, lady, your besmirched reputation pleases me not one whit but as to your lack of parents, I am pleased to disregard the fact. Besides, you come to me with a substantial dowry. I shall be wealthier by several manors."
"Dowry!" He could not decide if she looked like an owlet or a kitten at that point. Tendrils of honey hair were rapidly escaping from her embroidered cap. "How many manors?"
"Five so far, one more to be arranged. Now what's amiss?"
"Can you not see he's only doing this to mend my reputation and wash his hands of me. You have no need to marry me." His patient expression must have exasperated her further for she stuck her hands on her hips like a little fishwife. "Jesu, you are not prepared to make him change his mind, are you?"
"No, mistress, for his mind is fixed like the north star." He curbed the desire to pull her across the pace of flagstones between them so he could slide his hands down over her lower curves and cradle her hard against him. "You must be a heavy responsibility, Margery. Perhaps I should have bargained for seven manors. The sixth is for your little sin with the King."
"If I were a man, I should run you through for your continual insults."
"But you are not a man, my mistress, so why not try your woman's wiles on me instead." It was time he showed her what he wanted from her. By all the Saints, he had been waiting long enough.
"To Hell with you, Master Huddleston!"
She ran out and down the passageway before he could stop her and flung open the Earl's door. "Sutton Gaveston! Let the sixth manor that you sold me for be Sutton Gaveston!" Then she grabbed up a fistful of her skirts in each hand. "You said you did not want used goods. You said I was a bad bargain," she snarled at Richard as she hurried back toward him.
She would have torn past had he not seized her arm. He was about to kiss the anger out of her when the Earl loudly opened the door of the antechamber.
Warwick's face struggled in a contortion of anger intermingled with laughter. "Margery, enough!" he thundered.
Richard's fingers bit into the top half of his betrothed's sleeve. It was like trying to hold on to a spitting cat but he had a point to make and he made it loudly. "You said you wanted me shackled and bound. Well, I shall be, for all eternity."
Margery gave Warwick a deadly glare before she wrenched her arm from Richard's grasp.
"But I did not mean to me, Master Huddleston, not to me!"
CHAPTER 8
Margery fled to Isabella, not caring who saw her tears, and begged her to intercede with her father, but the Duchess pointed out that since Huddleston had ruined her anew by abducting her, it was a satisfactory outcome all around. There was no mercy anywhere.
It was then Margery decided to leave Valognes immediately. It had to be today; tomorrow all the horses would be taken out for the hunt. If she could ride away while everyone was still sitting at the trestles talking after dinner, she might manage a good start. This time she would succeed: Ned's purse still held sufficient to bribe a Norman fisherman to take her back to England and she could be in Cherbourg by noon next day.
But it was as if the Earl, or someone else, knowing her mettle, had forestalled her at every step. The grooms, busy checking the condition of the horses and their harnesses, had been given orders—no one was to be allowed a horse without a signed warrant from the Earl. No, they did not take bribes either. The gatehouse of the logis was doubly guarded too.
Miserable, Margery swiftly sought out the path around the back of the stable to return stealthfully to the tiring women's bedchamber so she might change out of her male garb before anyone discovered her absence. She did not include two of Clarence's more unpleasant henchmen in her calculations.
John Wyke and Henry Littlebourne, retainers of the Duke's friend, Burdett, rounding the corner behind the stables, deliberately walked into her at the pace of trundling cannon and snatched her cap off. "Going somewhere, lad? Why by Satan's arse, it's a wench." They circled her, a pair of human wolves in leather. "Why, the little bastard bride. Does your future husband know the King has had your maidenhead?" Wyke's hand caught her by the belt and yanked her toward him. He rolled his tongue lasciviously along his lips.
"Let go of me!" Margery swiped at his face with her riding crop.
"Bloody bitch!" He lashed out a gloved fist at her.
Littlebourne grabbed him. "You'll bruise her, you fool!" Before she could scream, he clamped an iron hand across her mouth and slammed her up against the stable wall. "Let's have a look at what's in store for Huddleston. She's not a virgin so he won't notice anything."
"Aye, but what if she squeals to the Earl?"
"The little whore will not dare. Huddleston will not marry her if she does. He may not mind the smoke but he will not want a bloody bonfire."
Wyke tried to thrust his hand within her codpiece, not finding it easy as she kicked at his kneecaps. Littlebourne, meanwhile, was fumbling inside her shirt, his lewd breath reeking with ale.
It was a deep-throated growl that froze Wyke's hand as he made to wrench down the front of Margery's woolen hose.
Matthew Long stood there, large and ponderous against the stable wall opposite, his expression as vacuous as a scarecrow's. In front of him Huddleston's deerhound was straining at the leash, lips curling back to reveal sharp vulpine teeth. Every hackle stood out.
"Fellow, you spoil our sp
ort. Get out of here before I take my whip to you."
"All very well, sirs, but Error, this dog here, doesn't understand English. Knows Latin, he does, and he has a passion for yon lady. By all the Saints, I do not know if I can hold the beast much longer." His boots scraped the ground as Error pulled toward them.
The air was crude with expletives as they let Margery go.
"I shall remember you, fellow, and your arsehole of a dog!" Wyke shook a fist at the retainer.
"I don't know why, sirs, I'm doing my poxy best." Long grinned stupidly at their vindictiveness but a further menrumble and tug from the great deerhound sent them hastening on their way.
Margery slumped against the wall, awash with tears, shame, and laughter as Matthew let the dog drag him across to her. Error's rough tongue laundered her hands and washed her face as she put her arms around the animal's neck and hugged it.
"Oh, Matthew, that was cleverly done." She reached up on tiptoe and kissed his bristly cheek, sending him a fiery red.
"It was the dog rescued you, mistress. My fists would have been little use against their steel." He gave a low whistle. "The master will be mad enough to bind if he hears you have been wandering around here in that garb. S'posin' the chaplain sees you? Let me see you safely through the garden."
Let Huddleston hear, thought Margery as she followed him.
"Master says you do not want to marry him neither." They were almost at the logis.
"That is quite correct, Matthew."
"You could do a lot worse, Mistress Margery. There are plenty of knights not worthy of the name like those two ruffians back there who would make marriage a misery."
Long was right, she thought, swiftly changing back into her gown. At least as Huddleston's wife she would have a man sworn to protect her reputation and her person, even if he did not like her much. But Wyke and Littlebourne had given her one last card to play.
She was pale as the full moon as she made her way to the Countess's chamber and there curtsied. "Madam, I was waylaid by two of my lord Duke's drunken henchmen. When Master Huddleston is informed of this matter, if he still wishes to wed me, I shall make my oath to him two days hence." Let Huddleston swallow that if it pleased him. Pray Heaven it would choke him sufficiently to call the marriage off, and providing Long kept a still tongue…
The Maiden and the Unicorn Page 12