Fugitive Countess

by Anne Herries

  ‘Perhaps—though why would someone play a jest on me? I hardly know anyone at court.’

  ‘I cannot think why anyone would do such a thing. It was a dangerous jest, for if you had remained there much longer on such a night you might have died. We must hope that you do not take harm, Comtesse.’ He took her arm, his thoughts of asking her to be his wife pushed to one side in his concern. ‘Come. You are shivering with cold. I must call off the search and get you home…’

  Safe in her bed, with several quilts to keep her warm, Marietta fell into a deep sleep. She slept despite the disturbing dreams that caused her to cry out once or twice, and she did not wake to see the man who watched over her. She was not aware that he stretched out on a coverlet at the foot of her bed, leaving just as the first light began to creep in through the shutters.

  Waking some time later, to find a maid had brought her warmed ale, hot rolls, butter and honey, Marietta was aware that she had a sore throat. She had not escaped completely unscathed from her ordeal of the previous night, and knew that if she had not been released when she had been, she might well have taken a chill that would lead to a fatal illness.

  She put two spoons of the honey into her warmed ale and drank it. The drink was soothing and eased her throat, though not completely. When she tried to get out of bed she felt a little dizzy. The unpleasant feeling passed in a moment or two, and she decided that she would ignore her feeling of being unwell. She was not certain that Anton believed her story. He probably thought she had been to meet one of the courtiers in the courtyard and turned cold, for he did not seem to have a high opinion of her.

  Perhaps because she had given herself to him on the journey here he thought her a whore?

  Tears stung Marietta’s eyes but she blinked them away. Short of confessing that she had fallen in love with him the first time they met on the Field of the Cloth of Gold, she could not explain her feelings. He would probably think it the fancy of a foolish girl. Besides, to confess her love for a man who clearly despised her would shame her. She was shamed by the wantonness she had shown as they travelled to London. Had she not genuinely believed that she was to die as the murderess of her husband, she would never have done it.

  However, she could not take back what had happened. She must simply retain her dignity and hope that once Anton had returned her to her kinswoman she need never see him again.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘The Comtesse de Montcrief says that she was sent a message that was supposed to come from me,’ Anton said, his eyes meeting Miguel’s across the room. ‘She claims that she was trapped in a courtyard with no means of escape for a long time—and then the door was suddenly unlocked.’

  ‘The wind must have blown it,’ Miguel said. ‘It stuck, as doors will at times. What else could it be?’

  ‘But who sent her the message?’

  ‘Can you be certain anyone did?’

  ‘You think she went to meet someone—a man?’

  ‘I do not think anything about the lady, Anton. She is not my concern.’

  ‘No, she is mine. I brought her here, and until she is safe with my uncle and her cousin I must care for her. Had she died it would have been a stain on my soul. I cannot bear the guilt of yet another death.’

  ‘You blame yourself too much. Isabella fell to her death that day. You were not there to see it, but she ought not to have been careless in her condition, for she carried your child.’

  ‘If the child was mine…’ Anton’s eyes darkened. ‘You know of the letter that claimed she was faithless…that her child belonged to another?’

  Miguel looked at him, seeming almost wary. ‘You asked the truth of her—what did she say?’

  ‘She denied it, and ran from me in distress. You know this, Miguel. I have spoken to you of my guilt, for you are my closest friend. If I cannot confide in you, who may I confess my sins to—other than the priest?’

  ‘You know I am always here for you.’ Miguel’s dark eyes were unfathomable as he looked at Anton. ‘Do you believe her innocent or guilty—I speak of Isabella?’

  ‘For a while I thought her guilty, and it tore the heart from me, but when I saw the stricken look in her eyes I thought I had misjudged her. She ran from me in such distress. I was never sure if she had deliberately thrown herself down those steep steps.’

  ‘I am certain it was an accident.’

  ‘Then you do not believe that she quarrelled with someone and was pushed to her death—whether by design or accident?’

  ‘Who would she quarrel with—and why? The servants adored her. You were the only one to think ill of her—and you were not there.’

  ‘Do you believe that, Miguel?’ Anton’s gaze narrowed. ‘Or do you think me guilty of yet another sin?’

  ‘Have I given you cause to think so? I told you that I had the gardener searched for. Had he been found I would have brought him to you. If someone else killed her they should be found and punished.’

  ‘I loved her. Even though I believed she had betrayed me, I loved her. My words were cruel that day, but I could never have harmed her—do you believe me?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Miguel could not quite meet his eyes. He brushed a speck of dust from his black velvet jerkin. ‘When do we leave for the Earl of Rundle’s house?’

  ‘Tomorrow, if the Comtesse is well enough. It will be a wonder if she has taken no harm from her ordeal. If I should discover the perpetrator of this evil trick I shall punish him, Miguel.’

  ‘I think you should be careful how much you believe of what that lady says. She has been cleared of murder, but she is not as innocent as she would have you believe.’

  ‘What makes you say that, Miguel?’

  Miguel stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. ‘I have no proof. I merely sense that she is trouble. Do not ask me why. Men have already died for her sake, and they won’t be the last.’

  ‘In that you speak truly,’ Anton said. ‘I have requested an escort from His Majesty when we leave the city. I expect that Rouen may try to waylay us on our return. He is unlikely to give up without a fight. He wants her, dead or alive. Mayhap I should have killed him as he slept. No matter—I shall guard her well. I do not intend to have her snatched from my care again.’

  ‘And when we reach our destination?’

  ‘I am not certain,’ Anton said. ‘There is much to consider. My duty ends when she is safe in my uncle’s care, but the future is not clear. I mean to settle here in England, but I think that you may wish to return to Spain?’

  Miguel looked at him oddly. ‘Are you telling me that you no longer have need of my service?’

  ‘You are my friend, Miguel. I merely suggest that it may not suit you to continue in my household if I remain in this country. I mean nothing more.’

  Marietta went downstairs when she was dressed and ready. She wandered about the house, feeling restless, and finally settled in the back parlour overlooking the garden. She would have liked to go out, but her throat was still sore and she did not wish to risk making herself worse. They would soon be leaving for her kinswoman’s home, and she wanted to be ready when Anton gave the word.

  She was sitting lost in thought when the door opened and someone entered. Turning, she saw that it was Anton and rose uncertainly, wondering what he would say to her.

  ‘How are you, madame?’

  ‘My throat is a little sore. Otherwise I think I have taken no harm. I was fortunate.’

  ‘Yes…’ Anton’s dark eyes were on her. ‘Have you given much thought to the future?’

  ‘Claire told me that I should be welcome to stay with her. I do not know what more I can expect. His Majesty promised that he would do what he could for me, but I am not sure it would be safe to return to France. Even if Rouen were no longer at the castle there might be others who coveted my son’s possessions.’ She hesitated, then, ‘My husband told me that I should find an honest man to marry, a man who would stand guardian to my son and see that he prospers. Perhaps I sha
ll find such a man, but I am not sure it is possible. Some will think me tarnished by scandal, no matter what the King says…’

  ‘It is possible that you may find some still have doubts,’ Anton told her and looked grave. ‘That cannot be changed. I am sorry for it, Marietta, but there is little I can do.’

  She raised her head proudly. ‘Why should you do anything more than what you have promised? I am already too much in your debt.’

  ‘You owe me nothing, lady.’

  ‘I owe you my life. The King may help my son regain his fortune, but had you not come to my rescue I might be dead.’

  ‘I do not ask for gratitude.’

  ‘What do you ask of me?’ Marietta held her breath, hardly daring to look at him.

  ‘There might be something…’ Anton’s gaze narrowed. ‘I have had it in mind for a while to offer you marriage. As your husband I should be the guardian of your son and his fortune—and I would make it my business to recover his inheritance and to protect it for him until he came of age.’

  ‘You are asking me to marry you?’ Marietta stared at him, her heart beating wildly. ‘Why do you offer me marriage? You have already promised to protect my son’s inheritance. I cannot expect more of you.’

  ‘You ask me why?’ Anton frowned. ‘I believe we should deal well together, Marietta. I know you are a good mother, for I have seen you with your child. I believe you might find it in your heart to offer love to my daughter. She has been too long without a mother…’

  Marietta looked into his eyes. Was his concern for his daughter the only reason he wished to wed her?

  ‘You are generous, sir…’ Her heart raced, because a part of her longed to accept his offer. It was what she wanted more than anything in the world but she was uncertain of his feelings. If he could never love her she might find it too painful to be his wife. ‘I am honoured that you should ask me, and grateful for your promise to help my son recover his inheritance, but…I am not worthy of such a marriage. Even though the King has pardoned me the shadow of accusation hangs over me. There will always be those who think that I am a witch and that I murdered my husband.’

  ‘Only fools or bitter minds will think it.’ Anton took her hand. ‘Let me make you safe, Marietta. As your husband I can protect and care for you so much more easily than if we live apart.’

  ‘Would it help you with your daughter if I agreed?’

  ‘I believe you might bring a smile to her face again. She is too serious these days.’

  ‘You must give me a little time to decide. I had not expected this, Anton.’ She lifted her eyes to his face. ‘You must know that I feel…kindness towards you…’

  ‘I know that you are warm and beautiful, and it would make me happy to spend my life protecting you and our children.’

  ‘I shall give you my answer when we reach Lady Claire’s home—if that is agreeable to you?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  He looked disappointed, and Marietta wanted to tell him that she had changed her mind and would marry him this instant but something held her silent.

  ‘I am content to wait for your answer.’

  ‘Thank you. When do we leave London, sir?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, soon after first light—if you are well enough to begin the journey?’

  ‘I shall be well enough. The sooner I am back with my son the better.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine you must miss him?’

  ‘I love him dearly.’ Marietta smiled. ‘He is all I have in the world.’

  ‘Yes, I dare say he is. I believe you are a good mother, as well as a good wife.’ Anton’s thoughtful eyes studied her. ‘Is there anything you wish to purchase in London before we leave? His Majesty gave me five hundred silver pieces for you—so that you might purchase clothes and replace those possessions you were forced to abandon in your flight.’

  She stared at him in shock. ‘Five hundred…That is a fortune. I cannot take so much.’

  ‘You would not offend His Majesty by refusing his gift?’

  ‘Oh…no…’ Marietta looked anxious. ‘Do you think I should accept such a gift? I have jewels I could sell.’

  ‘You must keep them for the future, Marietta. Accept what has been given you. I am sure there must be things you would like to order? We could visit the merchants this afternoon, and anything you purchase can be sent on with goods I have ordered myself.’

  Her cheeks were faintly flushed, her look oddly shy, making her, had she known it, more beautiful than ever.

  ‘I do not think I thanked you adequately for the gowns you provided for my use. If I may keep them I need little more for the moment—though I would like a lyre. Mine was destroyed, and it is my pleasure to play and sing when I am alone.’

  ‘Then we shall purchase a fine instrument, and anything else you see that takes your fancy. The few gowns I had prepared for you are a mere trifle.’ Anton smiled oddly. ‘Please do not refuse my poor gift.’

  ‘They are beautiful. I could not have chosen better myself. If you will wait while I put on my cloak, I shall be ready in a few minutes.’

  ‘Wear a fur muffler to keep your throat warm. I believe you will find one amongst your things. I do not wish you to catch a chill.’

  ‘No, for then we should be forced to stay in town longer.’ Marietta smiled at him. ‘Excuse me, sir. I shall not keep you long.’

  Her heart felt lighter as she ran up the stairs to her bedchamber. It was years since Marietta had been taken to visit the shops of merchants; her husband had always ordered anything she needed and had it delivered to the castle. To be able to choose what she wanted was a rare treat and she felt a little thrill of excitement.

  She might buy some silk for embroidery, for then she need not sit idle, and material to make clothes for her son, combs for her hair, silver trinkets that would replace the others she had left behind—and of course a lyre. All of a sudden she could think of so many things she needed.

  ‘You must be weary of shopping,’ Marietta said when they returned to the house late that afternoon.

  They were both carrying some parcels, though the bulk of what she had ordered would be sent on a wagon with goods Anton had ordered for himself and his family. He had taken her to all the best merchants in Spitalfields and Cheapside, encouraging her to spend recklessly. At first she had been afraid that she might spend more than she had, but Anton had laughed and said he would advise her if she became too reckless. He had said nothing more, merely watching her pleasure with a look of indulgence that made her feel almost shy.

  ‘It was so generous of you to give up your time, for I think you must have more important matters. The Comte always ordered my things and had them sent to the castle.’

  ‘Is it not more amusing to choose what you want?’ Anton asked, arching his brows. ‘You could not decide between the colours you admired easily, so how could anyone else know which you preferred?’

  ‘I was pleased to have new gowns. I did not mind that my husband chose for me—though my father always let me choose before I was married.’

  ‘Your father was a nobleman?’

  ‘Baron Villiers. He was not a rich man, and lost much of what he had in unlucky investments, I believe. It was fortunate that Comte de Montcrief offered for me, or my father might have lost all.’

  ‘So it was a marriage of convenience?’

  ‘My father thought it a good one.’ Marietta dropped her eyes. ‘I believe I was fortunate.’

  ‘The Comte treated you well?’

  ‘He was kind to me.’

  Anton nodded, looking at her thoughtfully. ‘Marietta Villiers…I have sometimes wondered if we met before that day I won the silver arrow?’

  ‘Yes, we did. I remembered you even then, because you saved my life, though you had forgotten me…’ Marietta’s eyes challenged him. ‘It was some years ago. The day two kings met on the…’

  ‘Field of the Cloth of Gold…’ Acceptance dawned in his eyes. ‘How could I have forgotten? I knew that
I had seen you before, but the memory eluded me. I thought once you might be that girl, but so much had happened in the years between, and you have changed, Marietta.’

  ‘I am older, and my waist is a little larger…’ she said ruefully. ‘You should not remind a lady of her age, sir. It is not gallant.’

  ‘I meant no disrespect. You were a pretty girl then, but you have become a woman—a very beautiful, desirable woman.’

  Something in Anton’s eyes at that moment made her heart leap. She felt heat pool inside her, and desire trickled through her veins like molten lead. Her lips parted on a sigh. She longed for him to give her some sign that he felt the same way…to take her in his arms and kiss her. If he truly cared for her she would be so happy to be his wife!

  ‘I…thank you,’ she said a little shyly. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she would wed him, but the words would not come.

  ‘Marietta—’ Anton began, but broke off as he heard footsteps and Miguel entered the hall. ‘You should go up now, lady. We have a long journey, and I do not wish to waste time in the morning. You should see that the servants have packed all you need.’

  His words were a curt dismissal that made Marietta turn away. How could he go from gallant lover to the reserved man she hardly knew so suddenly? She met Miguel’s cold stare and wondered what was in his mind. He had told her that he was glad the King had pardoned her, but she was not certain he meant it.

  ‘Yes, I would not wish to keep you waiting,’ she said to Anton. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen. I shall dine in my room this evening, for I wish an early night. I am tired and I would rest.’

  Marietta found that she slept better than she had expected that night. In the morning she woke refreshed and ready for the journey. When she went down to the courtyard she discovered that Anton’s men were assembled, also some ten others that she did not know who all wore the King’s livery. His Majesty had sent the escort he promised.