Flametouched

by Brian K. Fuller

  Good. He is fearful.

  “I would hear what you wished to speak with me about,” the handsome Earl said curtly and quietly, plucking a strip of juicy beef from a platter.

  Melchor cast his gaze around furtively to signal to the Earl that what he wished to say had great import and secrecy. “I must be brief. I fear for the life of your Queen.” Uticus blinked, eyes wide. Melchor continued with an air of furtive urgency. “Creetis is unhappy with her response to the massacre of our people, and I am afraid our leaders are planning something rather drastic. Now before you get too incensed, know that I have no proof, as yet, of their plans. I have only suspicions about actions that I cannot, in good conscience, condone, as they will bring us to a war we cannot win. Can I count on your help if there is some plot against the life of your monarch?”

  The Earl was pleased. “But of course!”

  “Good. I know it must be hard to wear someone else’s fame, but this may give you the chance to purchase some of your own. I will contact you if I uncover anything.”

  The Earl nodded, eyes bright. “I am at your disposal, Mr. Raines, in anything that will serve our Queen.”

  Melchor nodded and left Uticus Longford behind. Easily done. Offing the pesky Davon Carver would take a little more planning now that his whereabouts would be difficult to ascertain, but with all the powerful nobles incensed at the disgraced Lord, Melchor thought he might not even need to try.

  Chapter 24

  Lord Carver’s horse, Ceril, whinnied as Arianne led him across the freshly cut grass toward the rear gardens. The Queen had sent late word requesting that Arianne meet her, Lord Carver, and unnamed others that morning in the outdoors. As a consequence, Arianne had paced nearly the whole night through, anxiously trying to script words she could say to help the disgraced Lord Carver.

  To see one who had helped her so much endure such abuse tore at her heart, and not until she had excused herself from the ball early and returned to her apartments had she let her feelings flow. Her swift departure had upset an amorous Uticus, who had mistaken her tender feelings as some sort of encouragement to him. Only after she had shed her tears had she realized how Lord Carver’s exposure and public divorce might, one day, prove a blessing. At last she could treat him as an equal and with openness and honesty without needing to tiptoe around his past or his disguise.

  On the other hand, she pitied him. The lips of Bittermarch carried his name everywhere, and not in a positive way. His return deeply shamed Emile, something Lord Carver had desperately tried to prevent despite how awful she was. Arianne still couldn’t fathom how he could care about Emile’s feelings when she despised him as badly as fire did water. Clearly, neither one could truly live in the presence of the other.

  In the end, she couldn’t find words, but she had found something else. If Saunders was right about Lord Carver’s affections for his old steed, the horse would, at the very least, be a welcome gift. She had purchased the animal from Emile shortly before the Day of Burning Ball and had intended to send it back to Saunders in Hightower until such time as Lord Carver visited again. She had intended to gift it to him in thanks for all he had done and confess that she knew who he was. But his identity was out now, and the time for the gift had come.

  The soft morning light brought a feral spark to the horse’s eyes. Orange rays from the early sun tinted everything with warmth and highlighted the insects and spores wafting in a breeze alive with a chorus of birds. Arianne soaked it in, hoping she could radiate such brightness and life when she spoke with Lord Carver.

  As she rounded a tall hedge row, she found him. Lord Carver sat lifelessly on a wide tree stump wearing clothes for traveling. His head hung down, and he held his round, leather hat lifelessly in his hands. The carving bag sat nearby, fresh wood shavings on the grass beneath his feet. His thoughts so absorbed him that he failed to notice their approach until they were nearly upon him. Surprised, he shot up like a bolt, face pained.

  “Lady Hightower,” he said softly, eyes down in shame. “I had not expected you. The Queen told me to meet her here at eight this morning.”

  “And I, as well. How are you, Lord Carver?” Her heart threatened to break at the agony mapped so plainly in his sad eyes. How could she heal him as he had done for her?

  “I can hardly say. Now you have discovered that I am a fraud and a coward.” He steeled himself and lifted his eyes to hers. “I truly regret having deprived you first of your husband and now of any good opinion of me. I swear by the Eternal Flame that I never wished to cause you pain, Lady Hightower, and I regret what I have done.”

  She reached out and rubbed his smooth cheek, hunting for anything to say. “I always thought you would look better clean-shaven.”

  His eyes registered confusion at her odd response.

  She sat on the stump, holding the reins of the horse in her hand. “I should confess to you, Lord Carver, that I’ve known who you are since the day after the events at Harrickshire. The Queen has known since she first laid eyes on you in disguise. So while I have worn black today to mourn the loss of my good friend, Mr. Harper, I am delighted to finally be able to speak with you without any pretense between us. That has worn grievously upon me these past weeks.”

  His forehead scrunched together. “How can you look on me and not feel loathing?” he asked, taking a seat next to her on the stump. “Oh, how I loathe myself. I have always prided myself on my sensibility, but three times now I have committed errors so incalculably thoughtless that I question what sort of man I really am.”

  Arianne reached over and put her hand on his arm. “I know you better than you think. I have talked with Mr. Saunders and Miss Moreshire. I have seen your generous, courageous manner for myself. And yes, I have spent time with Lady Ironhorn. I don’t wish to anger you, but she is a monster that has never had a tender feeling for you in her life. She used you cruelly. While your desire to shield her from embarrassment does you credit, and while few people truly understand why you acted as you did, I know the truth. I am and will always be proud to call you a friend.”

  He remained silent for a few moments, face thoughtful. “You are too kind, Lady Hightower, too kind for your own good. You must distance yourself from me. I would rue what I’ve done all the more if my mistakes hurt you or your good reputation. Don’t let my shadow overcast your good life. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “No, Lord Carver,” she said. “You have brought nothing but joy to my sister and me, and we will support you however we can. You have friends, whether you see it or not. In fact, you seem so blind this morning that you’ve failed to notice that I have brought an old friend to you.”

  He looked at her questioningly and then at the horse, realization dawning.

  “Ceril?” he said, doubting at first. “That’s impossible…but it is!” He rose and patted its neck, his face lightening with the first pleasant expression she had seen from him that morning. “How are you, old boy?”

  The horse whickered in response, and Arianne smiled. Here was an old bond renewed, a simple connection that he needed as desperately as she had needed his care a few days earlier. Her heart rejoiced in her success. She stood and rubbed Ceril’s nose while Davon looked him over nose to tail, too overcome to speak. He approached her, face full of wonderment, and embraced her warmly. She closed her eyes and pulled him in tightly, happily soaking in his gratitude.

  When he pulled away, he turned toward the horse to conceal his effort to clear his eyes of tears. “This is the best gift, Lady Hightower. How could you have known?”

  “I heard that Lady Carver was using your beloved horse to pull carriages. I got my information from one Mr. Saunders, whom I recently hired as my new steward.”

  His eyes widened. “You can’t be serious! I don’t think you know what you’ve done! He’ll keep your house in order, to be sure, but he’s a bit of a rough character. I don’t wish to speak ill of him. I owe that old soldier a great deal. He helped me get Frostbourne on its feet in my younger d
ays and taught me how to be a man, though I can’t endorse all of his habits.”

  “That he worked for you was recommendation enough for me,” she explained. “And if he helped you become the man you are, then he is welcome indeed. How do you think he’ll take your return from the dead?”

  “With a great deal of coarse language, I’m afraid.” Lord Carver returned to the stump, letting Ceril gnaw on some nearby grass. “What a mess this is. You have been the only bright spot in this whole wretched affair, Lady Hightower, and I thank you for it. I must admonish you, however, to heed my earlier advice. If your peers choose to abuse me, let them do it. Under no circumstances offer any defense in my behalf or attach your name to mine in any—”

  She interrupted him by sitting down and leaning rather forwardly against him. “As you so appropriately reminded me a few days ago, Lord Carver, I am a Viscountess and I will behave as I see fit. So you can keep your admonitions to yourself. This will all die down in time, you’ll see. At some point, Emile will be exposed for what she is, and while people may see your method of ending your marriage as unorthodox, they will, at the very least, understand why you acted as you did.”

  He shook his head. “I am not sure that I fully understand why I acted as I did. I’ve only been David Harper for a year and still my old life seems like a distant, horrible dream. I should have confronted my difficulties more directly, but I knew that doing so would have injured Emile, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She can be a good person, Lady Hightower. She can be agreeable and kind. I failed her expectations…badly.”

  While her encounters with Emile Carver had been brief, Arianne had seen nothing of kindness or an agreeable nature in the woman at all. She was certainly eager to please anyone she viewed as consequential. She could only imagine how nauseatingly delightful the disgraced Emile Ironhorn must have acted when her parents thrust her into the life of Baron Carver in an attempt to rush a marriage to cover up her indiscretions. Did he not understand this?

  “As I said, Emile used you to escape her reputation, and one, I am afraid, she deserved! You must have learned all of this later.”

  He nodded. “I did, not long after our marriage. Doesn’t it sting you, Lady Hightower? I killed your husband to defend a pretended honor. While I am glad that I afforded Emile the chance to start over, was that chance worth the life of Lord Cornton of Hightower? It was not. It is not fair that he paid for her mistakes, and it’s not right that I robbed you of the husband of your youth.”

  She crouched in front of him and grabbed his hands, forcing him to look at her. “You did precisely what you should have done! My late husband should not have said what he did about Emile, truth notwithstanding, and you behaved toward your fiancée as a gentleman should! Do not reproach yourself, especially not on my account. I do not miss my husband, Lord Carver. I will miss you. You must swear to me faithfully that you will come to see me at Hightower and visit your old friend Mr. Saunders as soon as the Queen permits it. Do you swear?”

  “Lady Hightower, I—”

  “Do you swear it? Yes or no, Lord Carver.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  Satisfied, she released him and returned to admire the horse. “Very good. You help him remember, Ceril.” She patted his flanks. He was a fine beast, dark and powerful. “I’ll have you speak with my horses so they can help you learn the way.”

  The horse regarded her briefly and then dipped its head to chew the Queen’s grass. Lord Carver watched her, face soft but puzzled; he still didn’t understand her regard for him. What else could she do to convince him? She had a few ideas, none of them very appropriate, but hadn’t he embraced her rather forwardly? While gratitude rather than passion motivated his affections, she wanted to show some gratitude, too.

  “Since we are apparently left to our own devices, Lord Carver, shall we take a stroll about the garden?”

  “I would like that,” he agreed.

  She grabbed one of his arms even though he hadn’t offered it. A lot could happen on a stroll.

  Queen Filippa stared out the windows, watching the two subjects of her little experiment talk to each other in the morning sunshine. She quite purposefully lied to them both and sent them into the garden at eight knowing full well that the Duke of Longford would keep her long past that time with his concerns. She hoped the venerable Lord didn’t try to discern why she spent most of her time gazing to the gardens below. She knew exactly why he had requested a meeting with her, but he had, as yet, not come to the point.

  “And I must say,” the iron-haired Duke continued, “that this business with Lord Carver is most unfortunate. How is it that he escaped your discernment?”

  Arianne had just arrived with the horse and stood wonderfully close to Lord Carver. This was going just as she had intended.

  She focused her eyes back on the Duke. “My discernment is hardly omnipotence, Duke Longford. How much attention do you pay to your clerks?”

  Lord Longford was a powerful man, the epitome of a gentleman, and everyone naturally and incorrectly calculated that she would choose him as her successor.

  He leaned back on the couch, relaxing his flawless posture. “Not much, though I daresay we are all paying a little more attention now after the Aid Society plot. How did you come to ferret out Lord Carver’s true identity at last?”

  “I had personally commissioned him to oversee certain matters, and closer association with him eventually allowed me to see him for who he really was. I am surprised Lady Hightower didn’t figure it out first. She saw him on a number of occasions, as well.”

  Davon and Arianne sat on the stump side by side talking now. The Queen could only imagine how Davon hated himself. Self-doubt and self-reproach were a strong part of his nature, a part the Queen needed tamed. Arianne was her only hope to help fortify him with a little confidence. Exposing Baron Carver brought her no pleasure, but she needed the Lord now, not the clerk, and she needed one with a little iron. Maybe his wounds were too deep.

  “Yes,” the Duke continued, “that is right. I had almost forgotten that the brute killed Lord Cornton. How Lady Hightower must hate him.”

  The Queen faced more fully away from the Duke, unable to conceal a grin. “I am sure she has strong feelings for Lord Carver.”

  “Undoubtedly,” he agreed. “And on the subject of Lady Hightower, I know she is your particular friend, so I wondered if I might speak with you on a matter of some delicacy.”

  And here it comes. “But of course, Duke. You may speak freely.” It appeared that Lord Carver had just figured out that Arianne had purchased his old horse from his very angry ex-wife.

  “My son, Uticus, as I am sure you are aware, is very much interested in the hand of the Lady Hightower. It is a good match, don’t you agree?”

  Davon had engulfed Arianne in a close embrace. Most unexpected! Arianne didn’t appear to mind at all. The Queen wanted to shout for joy, but kept herself calm.

  “In terms of politics, certainly, Duke Longford. Two large estates, two families of renown. As for a match of hearts, I really couldn’t say. They are both pleasant enough young people.”

  “They are hardly young anymore, my Queen,” the Duke disagreed. “Is she not twenty and six?”

  The two separated and were talking again. The Queen turned briefly back toward Duke Longford. “I will hardly out a lady’s age to anyone, Duke Longford. They are certainly young to me.”

  “Of course. To the point, then. My son sent a notice that he would announce their betrothal at the Day of Burning Ball.”

  “He did.”

  “And you are aware that Lady Hightower expressly ordered him not to announce it?”

  The Queen peered through the window again. Arianne leaned against Davon as they sat on the stump together. Marvelous.

  “I hope your son explained to you that the proposal was never properly given and certainly never properly answered.”

  The Duke appeared taken aback, eyes narrowing. “I had not understood th
at. Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure. The Lady Hightower explained all the particulars to me. Her refusal to honor the announcement angered her parents, as well, but she is perfectly within her rights and is a woman who does not tolerate presumption. Your son got a bit carried away with his own notoriety, I fear, and assumed that Lady Hightower would be just as impressed as the rest of the ladies at court who fawned over him so diligently at the ball. I was afraid your son might drown in the adoration.”

  “I will inquire of him more closely as to the particulars,” the Duke assured her, “but Uticus fears that Arianne is angry with him and he is eager to make amends. I might ask if you would speak with Lady Hightower and lend some encouragement to my son’s cause? His desire for her hand is genuine and motivated by a sincere affection and regard.”

  Arianne’s hands were occupied with Lord Carver’s for the moment. She was pleading earnestly with him about something. “I will speak with her about her hand and what she intends to do with it,” the Queen answered vaguely. “I am determined, however, to leave matters of the heart to her. She is a dear friend and I don’t wish her to marry against her feelings.”

  The Duke stood. “I understand, Your Grace, and thank you for your consideration of the matter. I hope to speak with you again soon about my concerns regarding Creetis. The House of Lords is getting nervous about your apparent lack of progress on that front.”

  The Queen turned fully toward him now and suppressed a snort. Progress? Creetis’s bogus accusations of massacre were not the real danger. “Let them know I have things firmly in hand, Duke Longford.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Good morning.”

  He left and the Queen returned to her window, hoping she hadn’t missed much. The horse had been let stand to eat the grass while Davon and Arianne walked together in the garden, she having secured one of his arms.

  What would Duke Longford say if he saw this?