by Ling, Maria
LADY FIT FOR A LORD
MARIA LING
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2015 Maria Ling
Cover image copyright Petr Malyshev - Fotolia.com
Published by Byrnie Publishing
83 Ducie Street, Manchester M1 2JQ
United Kingdom
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. No similarity to any living person or recent event is intended or should be inferred.
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***
CHAPTER 1
"Yes, I know." Juliana de Louvain imitated her mother's patient voice as best she could. "Of course I must marry. And of course the man must be suitable as to fortune and family connections. But he must also exemplify good qualities as a man."
"That goes without saying."
Clearly it didn't, since Mother kept talking about the eligible men Juliana would meet, and how suitable a match they would make for her. If anything on the subject went without saying, Mother would surely have stopped talking by now.
"Besides," Mother added, "you may be certain there will not be any men there who do not exemplify such qualities. Private invitations, my dear. Alan has assured me that he is personally acquainted with every one of the expected guests, and can vouch for their character without a moment's hesitation."
"I'm sure he can." Juliana believed it. She liked Alan, from what she'd seen of him. And Mother would never allow her to attend the tournament if there had been the slightest doubt on the matter.
Juliana's sister Caroline, eldest of the de Louvain sisters, had recently married and was now happily settled on a nearby estate. Her husband Alan, fresh off the tourney circuit and keen to bring sociable fighting into the usual round of neighbourhood visits, was arranging a small private tournament by way of a belated wedding celebration. The news had caused quite a stir, and even Mother was reconciled to it on account of there being such a number of possible - and unexceptionable - suitors in attendance. Which meant Juliana would be permitted to go.
Juliana was delighted. It would be a pleasant outing, and she was curious to see Caroline's new home. Mother and Father had been there already, but Juliana had been left behind to help manage her younger sisters. This time, she and her next sister Merin were among the invited guests.
Which was flattering as well as exciting, and made her feel all grown up. But then Mother tried to spoil it by insisting on treating the event solely as an opportunity to arrange for Juliana to be married.
When the only man she could ever think of in that way was sitting right here in this room.
Juliana shot Emmanuel a surreptitious glance. He looked acutely uncomfortable, bored perhaps with this intimate conversation. It wasn't a proper subject for visitors, Juliana had grown hot with embarrassment the moment her mother brought it up. Though she half welcomed the chance to know his thoughts on the matter of marriage.
He wasn't married himself. Had been, but his wife died years ago. Father had spoken of him once as a possible match for Caroline, and the mere idea was torment to Juliana. But nothing came of it. And now that Caroline was safely married to another man, nothing ever could.
Thank God.
Juliana had dared to dream after that, she admitted as much to herself. In the privacy of her own mind she had gone well beyond the possibility of a wedding: she had imagined herself already a wife, living with Emmanuel on his estate, sharing the same bed with him. Oh, she had imagined that bed too, and what might take place within it.
But she mustn't think about that, not here and now with him so close. It was beyond shameful. Especially since she couldn't quite suppress a shiver every time she looked at him or heard his voice. He would guess her feelings, perhaps already had. And she would be utterly mortified.
"I think," he said now - rather slowly, as if not much interested in his own views, "that a match between equals, with affection on both sides, is always to be preferred."
Equals. Yes. There was that.
He was richer than her own family: held a great deal more land, kept a better hall and larger retinue. And he was older than her, too - though not so much older as to give her pause. Just right, he seemed to her: a seasoned man, comfortable with himself and the world. Whereas she was young, and inexperienced, and probably rather foolish still.
As for affection... Juliana quelled a sigh. It was all on her side, she understood that perfectly. He barely glanced at her - even now, when she sat close enough that he might touch her if he reached.
Of course, she didn't dare look at him either. Nothing beyond the briefest glance, enough to take in that firm set of the mouth, the oddly clear brown eyes, the black hair cropped at the shoulders. Just a trace of silver in that hair, two or three glints near the forehead. But he wasn't old. Thirty maybe. She didn't know for sure.
"But I dare say you'll enjoy a tournament." He softened into a smile, looked for a moment directly into her eyes, and Juliana started with the shock of it. "It's an event worth experiencing."
She wanted to ask if he'd be there. But she couldn't: her voice would be nothing but a shaky whisper, and betray her. So she said nothing, and looked away.
"You will attend, of course?" Mother asked the question, and Juliana shot her silent thanks.
"Naturally. I'm keen to meet this young hound you've let into the neighbourhood."
The hound in question was Alan, of course. No one knew very much about him, though Father had excellent reports of him from mutual friends. Juliana found him pleasant, and would be happy to know him a little better. Though she had no fear of discovering a single trait in which he could rival Emmanuel.
Who was splendid. Everything a man should be. Handsome, pleasant, courteous, and strong. Juliana had known him for years, he was a friend of the family, and she admired him beyond anything she could imagine.
But he didn't care for her. At all. Couldn't do. Because he hadn't spoken, hadn't so much as hinted at the possibility of marrying her. She knew that, because if he had, her mother would have leapt at the chance.
Which meant he didn't want her.
That hurt, a physical ache that radiated through her body. Juliana pressed her hands to her stomach and willed herself to remain impassive, to give nothing away.
"If I may presume to advise," Emmanuel said, "let the girl look about her for a while. It will do no harm. Even if there are suitable men on offer at this tourney... She is still young."
"We have seven daughters to dispose of," Mother said crisply.
"Of course." He took that in stride, as he did everything else. Juliana could not recall ever seeing him upset. "But proceeding slowly now may save a deal of trouble later. You understand me, I'm sure."
Mother quirked an eyebrow. "My daughter does not."
"No one could expect it." He smiled again, that glimmering smile, so at odds with his usual firmness. Juliana saw it from the corner of her eye, and her heart ached. She wanted him so badly. And she couldn't have him, because he didn't care.
It was too cruel.
"Will you fight?" Juliana whispered, and blushed at her own weakness. She ought to be mature, adult, sensible. Or at least capable of speaking in a normal tone of voice.
Emmanuel laughed. "At the tournament? You know, I might. It would be a great pleasure to t
ry out my skills. It's been..." He tipped his head back, considered the ceiling. "Let us merely say 'some years' since I last fought for sport. Used to cut quite a figure on the circuit at one time. But then, well." He shrugged and returned his attention to Mother. "There are so many demands on one's time. But tell me about your plans for the orchard. I'd like to try something similar myself."
Mother caught the thread with enthusiasm, and discussed in great detail her scheme for improving the yield of fruit. Juliana had heard it before, and approved, but the repetition could not hold her interest. Instead she bent to her sewing, and surreptitiously watched Emmanuel.
He had come to call on Father, really. They met every few months to discuss matters beyond Juliana's ken, sometimes in company with other lords. But he liked to sit with the ladies for a while, before or after those long meetings, and Juliana was grateful for the habit. It was her only chance to see and hear him undisturbed.
Not that she dared make much of it. But she treasured up every shard, and gloated over them for weeks afterwards.
"You'll bring all the girls to the tourney, I take it," he said now. "Since it's a private affair, and so near, and held by family. If you need any assistance with transport, I would be happy to oblige."
"That is very kind," Mother enthused. "Not all, and I'm sure we can manage those we do bring, but if it would not be an imposition - might you consider taking Merin and Juliana? They are both very sensible and well behaved. They'll be properly attended, of course."
"I'll bring a cart over for them."
Juliana bit her tongue. Her hopes had leapt up high for a moment, she had imagined herself travelling with him in person. But he would ride, attended by his own men, whereas she must be secluded among the women. How silly of her to think otherwise.
She wished for a moment she could ride alongside him, openly and at ease. But she dared not speak that thought aloud.
"I'd prefer to ride." Merin, held back by no such reticence, blurted out Juliana's secret wish. "Can't we, Mother? It's not all that far, and both of us are capable horsewomen."
"Out of the question," Mother said.
"Why?"
"You may find it further than you bargained for," Emmanuel said. "But there is no objection on my part. The cart can travel behind, in case you tire."
"Will you ride with us, then?" Merin teased. Juliana eyed her with mute envy.
Emmanuel treated Merin to a slight bow and a smile. "It would be an honour."
"I don't know," Mother began, in the hesitant tone that meant she was willing to be persuaded.
Juliana ventured all. "If the weather is fine," she said in a shaky voice, "perhaps we'll be glad of the fresh air and exercise."
"And if not?" Mother challenged.
"Then we'll go in the cart," Juliana reasoned.
"Settled," Emmanuel said. "With your permission, of course."
"I doubt they'll last more than an hour," Mother said. "But I suppose they might as well find out for themselves. Yes, very well. And thank you again for your kindness."
***
So much at least he'd won, Emmanuel reflected while pretending to listen to his host's concerns over some proposed boundary changes. He'd have the pleasure of Juliana's company on the way to the tournament, which would give him an opportunity to admire her. Covertly, of course, but under less scrutiny than her mother's day-chamber afforded.
He ought to offer for her. It would be the most natural thing in the world. A girl of good family, daughter to a respected neighbour and friend, pretty and decorous and no doubt with a small portion of her own. No one could see any objection to it.
Not even Charles. Emmanuel nodded politely to his host, and feigned interest in whatever complications the man had dreamed up now. A talker, Charles, especially among men. Probably couldn't get a word in edgeways with all those girls around him.
No, Charles would be only too happy with an offer for Juliana. Emmanuel was certain of that. There had been hints about Caroline in years gone by, but Emmanuel had fended those off smartly. God alone knew what kind of man could desire that woman, loud and opinionated and gratingly bitter on the subject of men.
But she was married now, thank God, and the neighbourhood was safe. Some deluded fool had been persuaded to take her on. In truth, Emmanuel's curiosity about Alan was thoroughly aroused by that fact alone. The man must be soft as a cushion, or else hard as a blade, to accept a wife like Caroline - willingly, if rumour was to be believed.
Juliana was another matter entirely. Soft-spoken, starry-eyed, with her mother's dignity and precision of manner but a hint of fire under the cool exterior. She had snared Emmanuel's heart so long ago he'd ceased to reckon the time. But she was young. Painfully young. Near the age of his own beloved wife when they first met. He couldn't bear that memory.
It had been a good marriage, full of respect and affection. His treasured wife had given him two healthy children, raised them with joy and love until they must be sent away for training. Then bled to death after delivering the third.
He couldn't bear it. The agony of recollection was physical in its intensity.
She was dead and rotted into ground, years since, and it was his fault that she died. If he hadn't loved her, married her, bedded her time and again - God, those nights in their own married bed - if he'd never gone near her, she'd be alive still. Happy and lovely, serene in a life of fulfilment far away from him. At a convent perhaps, she'd told him once that she'd believed herself to have a nun's vocation until she met him and knew the truth.
God, if he'd never met her she would be alive and well to this day.
And now Juliana.
He couldn't do it. Couldn't offer for her, knowing that every moment would be tormented by fear, that every night he'd lie with her while Death watched over them in glee.
It wasn't rational. He understood that well enough. Plenty of wives remained healthy and alive to prove him wrong. Look at Madeline, Juliana's mother: eight births and still a woman any man might offer for.
He'd been resolved to broach the matter with Charles today. Subtly, testing the ground, aware that Juliana might prefer another man. A younger man, Emmanuel thought ruefully; he was not the cocky youth who'd married that other starry-eyed girl so long ago. Wiser, certainly. Better, in most respects. But indisputably older.
Still, he'd come prepared to make what arguments he could. One look at Juliana had swept them all away. He couldn't destroy that innocent trust, couldn't risk her life to sate his own desires.
So he sat here, bored and restless, wishing Charles would just succumb to common sense and agree with Emmanuel's proposal. They'd get there in the end, both of them knew it, Emmanuel always had things his own way. There were distinct advantages to being the most powerful lord in the area. But he preferred to rule by friendly consent where he could. It saved time and expense in the long run.
"You'll want to consult with Alan as well," Charles urged. "His land borders that stream."
Emmanuel pricked up his ears. "Should cause no difficulty. I take it he's a sensible chap, since you approved him for a son."
He wished he'd been present at the time. Apparently Charles had held a tournament, and this Alan had distinguished himself not only for his martial skill but for carrying off that plague of the de Louvain family, young ghastly Caroline, in a haze of matrimonial bliss. Emmanuel would have given much to witness such an event.
But he'd been away, lending aid to one of his brothers-in-law on a matter of brigands. Returned sated with fighting, sporting a few new scars, ready to settle once more into the routines of peaceful life.
With Juliana. Or so he'd hoped.
It would help if she cared, if she was eager for him as he was for her, if he could believe she'd be willing to risk her life in his own marriage bed. Death was certain after all, it was the one definite truth of this mortal existence, he'd stared it in the eye often enough on the battlefield to know its dreadful smile. But love had conquered death, once and for
all, a thousand years ago in the holiest of earthly lands. Emmanuel believed that, trusted in it utterly; he bore the name of that ancient promise and knew it for truth.
If Juliana loved him, desired him for a husband, he might gather strength enough to risk it. But she didn't. Barely looked at or spoke to him.
Merin, by contrast - but Emmanuel broke the thought there. He wanted a woman, even if young. Merin was still a child, fearless and forthright in the way of spoiled innocents. She was a dear girl, and some man would be lucky to get her once she understood what men were about, but until then she chattered like a starling and bounced like a foal, and the thought of living alongside her gave him a headache.
No, it must be Juliana. Serene, bright-eyed, exquisitely desirable Juliana, whom he'd only just refrained from staring at throughout his visit with the ladies. She'd grown up this past year or so, since he'd been away: the delicate features had matured, and the expression in those clear eyes had deepened. He'd left a girl behind, but she was unquestionably a woman now, standing right in the doorway of adult life.
He wanted her to live it with him. And perhaps he could find an argument there, to quell his sense of foreboding. Some man would take her, and the danger to her would be the same. Better it be Emmanuel, then, because he would love her and treasure her as no other man ever could.
"Your lady wife looked well," he said, by way of leading up to the topic. "And your daughters also. The warmer air agrees with them, I trust."
"Very likely," Charles admitted, and found new nothings to fret about. Emmanuel stifled a sigh, and nodded with every pretence of listening.
"I dare say they miss their sister," Emmanuel continued, when he judged the moment right. "Though with her living so close, perhaps you visit back and forth quite often? It must be a relief to have her still in the neighbourhood."
He courteously refrained from voicing his sense that the entire family were to be congratulated for having rid themselves of that pest. They loved her, he knew, and she them. To Charles, she was particularly dear: his firstborn, and the only one among the girls who stepped up to fill the role of the son he never had. She deserved credit for that, Emmanuel chided himself, it must have taken a great deal of courage for a young girl to abandon feminine pursuits and venture to become the boy her father so wanted.