“I actually believe I do,” Mina said, the seed of hope she had tried to destroy blossoming in her heart, although she still wasn’t certain what she felt for Roger was love. All she could be sure of was that she was happy beyond belief to think that he didn’t hate her.
“I’m going to marry Hilda,” Reginald repeated, his expression solemn, “and nothing you, or Roger, or the baron says will change that.”
Mina gave him a tender smile. “What does Hilda think of this? Have you told her?”
“I asked her to marry me. She thought as you do, that I didn’t mean it or that I could be persuaded to change my mind.”
“What about Hollis?”
Reginald’s eyes lit with joy. “He’s a fine little fellow, isn’t he? We’ve had some jolly times, I can tell you.”
“Doesn’t playing with him spoil your clothes?”
“Yes, but I don’t mind. I have plenty.”
This was the final confirmation Mina needed to gauge Reginald’s sincerity. If his feelings for Hilda could overpower his vanity, they must run deep indeed.
She was tempted to ask him to describe the emotion, but it seemed rather embarrassing to think that Reginald might actually know more than she did on any given subject. Nevertheless, she was about to when she heard Albert’s voice across the courtyard and a better idea presented itself to her. She would go to Sir Albert with two objectives: to explain to him why she had done what she had on her wedding night, and to get him to describe love somehow without confessing her humiliating ignorance.
Chapter Fifteen
“Excuse me for interrupting,” Mina said softly as she drew near Albert and the minstrel who were strolling across the inner ward deep in conversation. “I would like to speak with you, Sir Albert.”
Albert gave her a brief, distant smile and nodded his assent. Gerheart, the minstrel, smiled more warmly and said, “We were finished discussing the song anyway, my lady. A good day to you.” And with that, he strode off toward the hall.
“I must say I am surprised that you wish to spend so much time in a minstrel’s company,” Mina said as she led Albert toward the garden.
“Why is that, my lady?”
“Because ... because of what they’ve done with you...with your...” She hesitated, not sure of the right words.
Albert paused and regarded her steadily. “You know my story then, and the song a minstrel made of it?”
“Lady Joselynd told me,” Mina confessed, feeling that she would have done better not to raise the subject.
Albert, however, smiled indulgently and continued toward the garden. “It doesn’t mortify me to have my tale so widely told. Not anymore. I’m used to it.”
It amazed Mina to think that he could become accustomed to the reminder of his failure, and yet it was very clear that he did. “I would not be so tranquil. Doesn’t it pain you to hear it?”
By now they were in the garden, and Mina sat on the stone bench. She gestured for Albert to sit.
“It pleases me to think that our love will be remembered for a long, long time, perhaps even when we are dead,” he answered with a wistful smile. “I confess I live in hope that Winifred will hear it and know that I will always love her. I continue to hope she might return to me someday.” He regarded Mina solemnly. “Now, how may I help you, my lady?”
The sun was hot and bright in the garden, but that was not why Mina began to perspire. She hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath and spoke. “I need your help, Sir Albert.”
“My help?” he asked, his expression puzzled. “Of course, you have but to ask.”
“First, I have noticed a change in your behavior toward me. Oh, nothing to fault, let me assure you,” she hastened to add when she saw his reaction. “However, that leads me to assume that Roger has told you something of our wedding night?”
“He told me about it, my lady.”
“That I tricked him?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Did he tell you why?”
Albert gave her a frankly curious look. “No, he did not.”
“I overheard him talking to the baron about his lascivious prowess, the implication being that although he considered me unattractive, he would do his husbandly duty. And, furthermore, with very little effort on his part, I would experience complete bliss.”
Albert blushed and shifted uncomfortably. “Roger sometimes speaks unwisely.”
“Needless to say, I was not pleased.”
“His words hurt you, and so you sought some revenge,” Albert said with an understanding nod.
She stiffened a little at the implication that anything Roger or anyone did could hurt her—and then decided that this was not the time for defensiveness. She was here to learn, not to dissemble. “Yes,” she admitted. “I know I am no beauty, but to hear my betrothed say that...”
“A perfectly natural reaction,” Albert said sympathetically. “I can see where you were driven to teach him a lesson.”
“Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how my suggestion that he had physically hurt me would upset him so. I ... my experience had not prepared me to believe a man would be so ashamed of such a thing.”
Albert took her hand in his and patted it with brotherly comfort. “You could not know about Roger’s training. He was taught by a man who drilled it into his pupils’ heads that it was a base and utterly despicable thing to hurt a woman.” Albert cleared his throat and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I must also say that Roger has always considered himself a masterful lover. Although I am his friend, I think it might not be so bad that his arrogant vanity was called into question. He could use a dose of humility.”
“Nevertheless,” Mina said, comforted by Albert’s words, “had I known how my confession would anger him, I would have kept silent.”
“Honesty is never amistake. The mistake was in Roger’s rather unreasonable reaction. He can be impetuous at times, my lady. You must be patient with him. He has not had an easy life, despite his wealth and power and personal attributes. The early deaths of his parents, his separation from his sister, the years spent in the exclusive company of soldiers... all these things do not make a man who reveals his feelings easily.”
“How old was he when his parents died?”
“Ten, or thereabouts. He never speaks of it, but others have told me they died of a fever within three days of each other. It was decided that Roger should be fostered by Lord Gervais, and his sister sent to a convent. It was another ten years before they saw each other again.” Albert paused, then went on. “I heard that they had to forcibly restrain him from going after his sister when she was first taken from him.”
Mina didn’t say anything, yet Albert’s words affected her deeply. She could so easily remember her mother’s death and the pain of the loss. Roger had lost his entire family in so short a time! Might it not cause him to withdraw into himself and believe himself better off alone, without love?
Just as she had come to believe. “I thought he hated me for what I had done,” she murmured, “until Reginald told me what you had said to him, about Roger’s rudeness toward me.”
“Ah, yes, the contrary nature of Sir Roger de Montmorency. I meant it quite sincerely. His courtesy toward Lady Joselynd is absolutely meaningless. I should also tell you that he argued a great deal with his sister Madeline, and not quietly, yet there is no doubt that he loves her very much.”
“And his incivility toward me?”
“Means you affect him, and I would venture to say he cares a great deal more about you than he would ever dare to show or say.”
“I am glad to hear that you think so,” Mina said fervently, then she straightened her shoulders and looked Albert directly in the eye. “He affects me, too, very much. I was thinking...wondering...” She took another deep breath. “Sir Albert, how does a person know when they’re in love?”
Albert’s smile lit his whole face. “You think you are in love with Roger?”
“I don’t kno
w,” she confessed wistfully.
“The very fact that you are confused is a good beginning,” Albert said, his tone pleased and blessedly not patronizing. “However, I regret there are no specific symptoms. All I can tell you is that if you are in love, you will come to know it.”
“What was it like, for you?” she asked softly. “Pray forgive my meddling, but you are the only person I feel I can ask about such a matter.”
“I am honored by your confidence, my lady.”
“Did it happen slowly?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I cannot say for certain when I began to love. Was it at first sight when I felt as I never had before, or later when suddenly every graceful gesture of Winifred’s touched my heart and inflamed my desire?”
“But to be so smitten, so weak, so vulnerable...”
“Love is worth anything,” Albert said firmly. “Any danger, any risk. It is wild and glorious beyond belief, though it can lead to despair greater than death when it is thwarted.” He spoke so quietly and so sorrowfully that she took his callused hand and pressed a tender kiss to it, to show him that she cared and that he did not have to bear his pain alone.
Then she made a silent promise to do anything she could to try to find the woman Albert had adored, and obviously still did. It would be difficult, but a woman from her mother’s family had also been a foster child of Lord Gervais, the lord of Bridgeford Wells. She had met Fritha Kendrick only once, but for Albert’s sake, she would send a message asking for any information at all about the lost Winifred.
She rose and held out her hand. “Thank you, Albert, for all your help.”
Albert stood beside her. “Roger needs love, my lady. He may not know it yet, but he does.”
Mina nodded, even as she wondered what she should do next. She was still too unsure of her own feelings to tell Roger; it had taken more courage than she had guessed to speak to Albert.
And there was still the matter of the seductive Lady Joselynd, whom Reginald did not want. The question haunting Mina now was, if Roger needed love, would he come looking for it from his wife?
Roger did not hear Albert’s final words, or Mina’s response. By then he had left the shadow of the garden gate, more distraught than he had been since Madeline’s departure all those years ago. He hurried away, struck to the very center of his soul by this duplicity.
He had heard the words about love being worth any danger or risk; he had seen her kiss Albert’s hand. To think he had been about to ask his traitorous friend for advice about his marriage.
He stumbled and righted himself, glancing around to make sure nobody saw him. They would surely think him drunk. He was intoxicated—but with dismay. Oh, God, how could Mina betray him like this? He hadn’t been so very horrible to her, had he? And why did it have to be with Albert, his trusted friend? His only friend.
Roger halted at the door of the hall and slumped against the frame, trying to gather strength. Trying to think.
Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps he had misinterpreted what he had seen. After all, what exactly had he witnessed? His best friend and his wife sitting alone in her garden, very close together, talking softly and earnestly.
That looked bad. However, the gate had been open. If it had been their intention to have a secret assignation, would they not have closed it?
She had kissed Albert’s hand. Not his lips. His hand. What did that signify? Nothing—or the beginning of something that would end in stifled, ecstatic cries?
There was only one way to find out. With strange reluctance, Roger turned and resolutely returned to the garden.
Which was completely empty.
Surely he had been mistaken.
Please, God, let him be mistaken!
A few nights later, Roger stood again on the battlements, lost in thought. He was no more sure about the state of the relationship between Albert and his wife than when he had seen them in the garden. They spoke together often, but with no more intimacy than Mina displayed with Dudley, Hilda or anybody else in the castle. Indeed, Albert and Mina seemed to treat each other with less affection than he showed to Lady Joselynd.
Then Reginald came sidling along the wall-walk.
“Reginald, what brings you up here?” Roger asked, disgruntled that his solitude had been invaded.
“I, um, that is, I was admiring the view.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.” Reginald moved a little closer, and it occurred to Roger that the fellow was not so outrageously dressed as usual. His garments actually looked ... subdued. “I also thought this might be a good time to speak to you.”
“What about?” Roger inquired, trying not to sound bored, although he could not imagine that Reginald would say anything remotely interesting.
“Lady Joselynd and the baron.”
“Joselynd and the baron?” Roger asked, wondering what Reginald meant linking those two together.
Reginald waved his hand. “Oh, God, no! That didn’t come out right. I mean, I was hoping ... that is, I was wondering if I could get you to speak to the baron for me about Lady Joselynd.”
Roger didn’t bother to hide his amusement from his brother-in-law. “What about her?”
“I don’t want to marry her.”
“May I ask why not?”
“I’m going to marry Hilda.”
Roger straightened abruptly. “What?”
“I’m going to marry Hilda,” Reginald repeated with unexpected boldness.
“She’s a peasant!”
“I know her social station. I don’t care.”
“Don’t be stupid, Reginald.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid to marry the woman I love,” Reginald replied defiantly. “I think I would be stupid if I didn’t.”
“You’ll regret it!”
“I don’t think so.”
“The baron won’t want to hear this,” Roger declared in a slightly angry tone.
“That’s why I came to you. He respects you. He’ll listen to you, and—”
“I’m not going to interfere in this. If you want to ruin your life, that’s your business. Don’t ask me to help.”
“I tell you, I won’t be ruining my life.”
“You’re deluded! There is no such thing as love.”
Reginald’s eyes widened, then softened into sadness. “I am very sorry to hear Mina’s husband say so.”
Roger turned on his heel and marched away. He didn’t want to hear anything else Reginald had to say. The man was more of a fool than he had suspected. To have the audacity to sound as if he pitied him! The very notion of marrying a woman like Hilda was simply ridiculous! Completely unacceptable! Hilda was a fine woman, of course, and would make some man a good wife, but not a nobleman.
And then to think that he would intercede with the baron on his behalf. Reginald was a stupid, blundering, gullible dupe who had listened to too many minstrels!
Roger’s anger propelled him across the inner ward. This idea of a marriage had to be stopped. He glanced up at the tower and saw the pale beam of light from his bedchamber window. He and Mina didn’t agree on much, but surely she would have to agree with him about this.
“What is this nonsense about Reginald and Hilda?” Roger demanded as he marched into his bedchamber. He nearly marched right back out again when he realized Mina was wearing only a thin—very thin—shift and brushing her curling, luxurious hair.
Before he could get away, Mina swiveled on her stool, her hairbrush still in her hand. “It’s not nonsense. He’s quite determined to marry her.”
He stalked over and grabbed her brush, putting it down with a bang on the table. “Is he mad?”
She picked up the brush and began to run it through her hair again, looking straight at him. “He claims to be in love.”
“That’s utterly ridiculous!”
She merely shrugged her shoulders as if Roger’s declaration were not worthy of a vocal response.
“Put that damned thing down and answer me!�
��
“What was your question?”
“What are you going to do about Reginald?”
“Nothing at all. He is quite adamant. He says he’s in love.”
“He’ll make a greater fool of himself!”
“I take it then, Sir Roger, that you do not believe in the power of love?” she asked evenly, slowly putting down the brush.
“No, I do not.”
She looked at him with her gray-green eyes and her full lips in a small, probably meaningless smile. “Reginald does, and he is of legal age to do as he likes.”
“And you? What do you think of this ‘love’ nonsense?” Roger blurted, cursing his own weakness. He should not care what she thought about anything other than the running of his household, and he had tried to avoid any discussion of that. Indeed, he had tried not to notice her at all, unless she was talking to Albert. Then he was drawn to watch them like one of his hawks sighting a rabbit.
Her gaze faltered for an instant, but only for an instant. “Since I have little experience of the emotion, I have tended to doubt its validity,” she replied calmly. “However, there seem to be plenty of other people who are not only quite convinced it exists, but claim to have suffered it themselves.”
“They’re fools.”
“Would you call Sir Albert Lacourt a fool?”
“Where love is concerned, yes, I would.”
“A ruthless judgment, my lord,” she remarked, rising and turning toward him, presenting him with the nearly overwhelming view of her virtually naked body.
The sight of her rosy nipples straining against the transparent fabric of her shift was nearly enough to make him forget his jealous anger and risk a rebuff by taking her in his arms. She went toward the bed and absently ran her hand over the coverlet in a gesture that was almost a caress, and he wondered if she was intentionally trying to divert his attention. Based on her past deception, it would be just like her to try such a diabolical scheme, and it was nearly working. “Will you please cover yourself? Have you no sense of shame?”
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