She shook her head. Was he now going to find fault with the boy's name?
"I wonder why the child was not named for my cousin," he remarked thoughtfully. "I wonder if that was her idea? Perhaps he is not Richard's son at all. Perhaps that is why he was not named for him."
Rachel sighed impatiently. Knowing how devoted the couple were, as Anthony did, how could the thought even enter his head? But he would do anything to discredit Bethany; he liked to believe it was only Richard who was besotted.
"You have not developed any wisdom since last we met, I see?" She remarked.
He only grinned smugly.
"I have been in France," he said, "and in Scotland. There is a lot of support for putting Mary Stuart on the throne. This Protestant queen is yet to marry, she seems to think a woman can rule." He scoffed. "Mary Stuart is the rightful heir and a Catholic."
Rachel caught her breath and looked around quickly, almost afraid the walls could hear him. This was not the sort of talk she wanted in her house.
"If you wish to talk treason, please do so elsewhere," she said quickly.
He made no reply just sat and looked at her while she handed him a goblet of wine and wished his visit to be a brief one. She had given up trying to reason with him after their last meeting, and now she found herself disliking him intensely.
Anthony was silent for a little while, although he wore an amused smirk which made Rachel feel she was being mocked. When at last he spoke, it was to voice a complete change of subject.
"I have some friends," he said, "who are in need of adopting a boy. I wanted to know where the orphan home was where you found your little maid and if they also have boys."
She had no reason to doubt his word, not then, so she told him the location of the home, feeling grateful that one more poor, abandoned child might find a home. At least if these people were friends of Anthony, they would not be deviants. Traitors, possibly, but certainly not deviants.
He drained his goblet then got to his feet, while she followed suit, thinking he was getting ready to leave. But instead he stepped closer, put his arms around her and kissed her lips, with passion, holding her tightly against his chest. She pushed him away, using all her strength to do so, then quickly moved away, horrified.
She had known this young man since he was a child and in her mind he remained a child. She felt like an older sister, or an aunt, and here he was making amorous advances of the kind which filled her with horror and revulsion no matter who made them.
"What do you think you are doing?" She demanded.
He smiled down at her, a patronising smile which she found hateful.
"It is all right, Rachel," he said reaching out for her again. "I know you are somewhat older than me, but you are still very beautiful."
It had been many years since she heard those words from anyone but Richard, many years since she heard them and felt that revulsion and fear as she did at that moment.
"Please," she said, trying to push him away again, but he would not let go. "Leave me. I do not want this."
"You have another lover?" He asked with a doubtful frown.
Her instinct was to tell him she had no need of such a thing. She was so furious with him, with his assumption that now she was no longer with his cousin, she would be available to him. But she did not think he would take her word.
He was the type of man who believed a woman could never survive without a man in her life and his intention now was to fill that space. There seemed but one way to dissuade him.
"Yes," she replied hastily. "There is someone else. Now, please, get out."
He just held on to her, his hands gripping her upper arms, as he gazed into her eyes with a doubtful expression. She turned her face away to evade his probing tongue, struggled against his grip, but he held on tight and the horror of her childhood flooded her mind.
"Who?" He demanded.
"That is not your concern," she told him. "Now please! Let go of me!"
"I want to know who is bedding you since my cousin cast you off," he insisted. "Whoever he is, he cannot know you like I do."
"You? What makes you think you know me?"
"I have lived under the same roof with you, I have known you for many years. Who is he?"
"What do you want," she spat at him, "to find out who owns me now so you can make him an offer?"
"No," he argued with a shake of his head. "I just want to know he is treating you well."
He pulled her closer and forced his mouth against hers, pushed his tongue into her mouth, and she felt him hardening against her groin. She tried to pull away, she was disgusted, but she could not even break his grip.
She began to panic, to be afraid that this man whom she had known since his childhood was not to be trusted alone with her. Had someone warned her of this all those years ago when she lived with him and his cousin at Summerville Hall, she would have laughed in their face.
He was a stranger and he was going to rape her; she knew it, she felt as helpless as she had when she was a little girl, trapped and unable to fight back. She began to tremble, to shake and her heart pounded so fast she thought it would burst out of her chest.
"Is it your intention to force yourself on me?" She demanded, trying desperately to hold back tears of anger and fear. "Is that how you have matured without Richard's influence?"
"No, of course not," he answered, shaking his head. "I just want you to realise that I am no longer a boy."
"You are not much of a man, either," she retorted angrily.
His jaw clenched at that. Obviously she had hit a nerve.
"Will you please let go of me?" She asked him.
"When you tell me who your new lover is," was his reply.
He tried to kiss her again, but she managed to hold her hands against his chest and keep her face turned away. The feel of his manhood growing harder against her was making her feel sick, bringing back vivid images of all those years ago when she was a helpless child crying for her mother.
She had to find something to say which would make him release her before she lost her temper and tore her nails into his face. From the way he was behaving, she really believed it would take little provocation for him to become violent. She drew a deep breath to give herself courage.
"What makes you think," she said harshly, "that any woman, who has once lain with your cousin, would give you a second glance?"
She was hoping he would be offended enough to let her go, but it seemed he was still in awe of Richard.
"I may be second best, Rachel," he said, "but at least I care for you."
She just stared up at him, asking herself what answer she could give which would make him leave her alone. She could put about rumours that she was a widow, she could go abroad wearing her black velvet cloak and pretend to be in mourning, and that had worked well for a time. But she could not tell Anthony that same tale and he believed that every woman needed a man to guide them through life. He actually believed that he cared for her, when the truth of it was that he lusted after her like many men before him. She wanted to strike him, to tell him she was her own person, but she did not think that would discourage him. If anything, it would make him think she wanted to be swept off her feet.
At last she reluctantly made up her mind. There was only one thing which might deter him, one thing left to be said, and she had to say it.
"And why should I settle for second best, pray," she said with a sneer, "when I already have the best?"
He frowned at her for a moment, studying her face as he searched for a meaning. At last he spoke and she knew she had pleased him, which was the last thing she wanted.
"Richard?" He asked at last. "It is Richard?"
He immediately released his grip and stepped back.
"It has always been Richard," She went on hurriedly, avoiding his eyes, keeping her gaze on the floor. She had no desire for him to detect the lie. "You did not really think we could part with each other, did you?"
He was bound t
o believe her; she was telling him precisely what he wanted to hear. He smiled slowly, smugly. She could almost read his thoughts, that Bethany was being made a fool of, that his cousin had no real love for his wife, that it had all been an act. And that he had been right all along.
That would please him and make him believe he could talk Richard into casting her out, perhaps even getting rid of her the same way he believed he had got rid of his first wife. Now he had a son, he would have no further need of her, would he? Or perhaps he had some mad scheme to convince Richard the boy was not his.
"What do you imagine he will do when I tell him how you have behaved to me today?" Rachel demanded. "Do you think he will ever forgive you now, take you back into his life? Can you go, now, please, and do not repeat what I have told you."
It was obvious to her that he would repeat it the first chance he got and she felt so guilty for her lie. As soon as Anthony had gone, she sat down to write to Bethany, to confess what she had just done to that lady in an effort to protect herself.
CHAPTER FIVE
Since Rachel returned to her house in Finsbury, Richard had exchanged letters with her, letters which he always let his wife read. She still felt a little insecure about her, and he tried his best to still her fears. Although she was grateful for everything Rachel had done, she would rather forget that she had known her husband many years longer than she had herself. She would especially rather forget that Rachel had spent two years living with him in his Whitehall Palace apartments.
The Summervilles had enjoyed three years of being an ordinary family, with no commitments at court, no battles to fight. Richard was still duty bound to fight for his Queen should the need arise, but so far that had not happened. Even if it should, Elizabeth would have to be very short of soldiers to require the services of Lord Richard Summerville, who had betrayed her sister. That suited them both. After the trauma of Mary's reign, after the violence he was forced to condone for her sake, he did not want that life any more. They lived quietly with their children, they loved them and they loved each other, and now there was another child due.
But their serene happiness was not to last. There came an unexpected and quite unwelcome letter from Lady Rachel, addressed to Bethany, not to Richard or to them both, in which she confessed she had told Anthony she and Richard were still lovers. She did it, she said, because he would not leave her alone, because he was making overtures to her and it was the only way to deter him.
Bethany was torn. Rachel was a lot older than Anthony, but then knowing how he now envied Richard everything, it did not seem so out of place that he would make advances to her. And she had agreed that Richard's protection would still be forthcoming should Rachel need it. So why was she so jealous? Perhaps because she was heavy with child once more and deprived of the comfort of his lovemaking. She tried to put the letter out of her mind, but her jealousy and doubt were the reasons she did not tell Richard about it. Perhaps if she had, none of what happened could have happened.
They had been out in the little open carriage, Bethany, the nurse and the two children. Estelle could barely see over the top of the sides, but she was giggling with joy and mischief every time the horses jolted over a bump in the road.
They had been to see the tenants, who always found time to stop and talk to the children, and Connie's little girl had taken Joshua off to play. There was nothing unusual about that and they had both agreed there would be no class barrier between the Lord’s children and the children on the estate. As he had told her years ago, he was no better than them, merely more fortunate.
Estelle had just started to pull herself up onto her feet and she had been demonstrating this clever new skill against Connie’s legs.
It was a bright spring day, a good day to get the children out into the fresh air, but now it was getting late and would soon be drawing dark. When it was time to leave the nurse lifted the baby into the carriage and strapped her in while Connie went inside her cottage to fetch Joshua.
She came running out with a look of sheer panic on her face.
"My Lady," she cried at once. "Viscount Joshua is not there."
"What? What do you mean he is not there?"
"Seems the children had a bit of a tiff and he went out the back. Janie don't know where he is."
The nurse ran through to the back of the cottages while Bethany stayed with the baby. She was not really worried. After all, this was his father's land and the people who lived here would let no harm come to him. But when the nurse returned and announced that there was no sign of the boy, panic seized her.
"Take Lady Estelle and the carriage back to the house," she told the nurse. "Tell His Lordship what has happened."
"My Lady?"
She did not relish telling Richard that his son was missing, but Bethany could not be concerned with her feelings at that moment.
"You heard me! Go tell His Lordship. He will arrange a search party. Now go, please, quickly."
They spent hours that afternoon and evening, searching the grounds, all the cottages, the stables and barns, every single place they could think of. Richard brought the carriage back and they rode over the grounds, Bethany in the carriage, him on horseback, searching in the woods, calling Joshua's name. He also brought his dogs and gave them some clothing to sniff, but they only got as far as the trees with their search before it went cold. She knew what that meant; so did he.
"Richard," she cried out in panic. "If the dogs cannot find a scent, that can only mean one thing. He has been taken."
"My Lady?" Will had overheard them. "My Lord, who would do such a thing?"
"Someone who thinks they will gain from it," Richard said angrily. "Or someone who hates me."
Given his reputation during Mary’s reign, there could be many who fit that description. It was possible there was someone who had lost his own family during the terror and blamed Richard, decided to make him suffer the same way.
They had no sleep that night. They stayed awake and held each other tight while the men from the estate and the village carried on with their search. He told them it was pointless, that they should rest until morning, but they would not stop.
"It is my fault," she said miserably, burying her face in the warmth of his chest. "I should never have taken my eyes off him."
"It is nobody's fault, except whoever has taken him," Richard replied, "and when I find out who that is, they will rue the day they were born."
"It is dark and cold," she said. "I hope whoever has him is keeping him safe." She pulled away and looked up at him. "They will keep him safe? If they want you to pay for his release, they will have to keep him safe. They will Richard, they will not hurt him will they?"
He hugged her tighter before he replied and kissed the top of her head.
"They will not hurt him, my love," he assured her, but she knew he was lying. He knew no more about the kidnapper’s intentions than she did.
They may not keep him safe; it would depend on their motives for taking him. If it was to get some sort of revenge on Richard, or on her, they may kill their son to achieve that.
***
Three days after their son was taken Richard still had men searching everywhere; now the search extended throughout the county, as far as the coast. There had still been no sign of a ransom note, no hint as to why anyone would have wanted to kidnap the little boy.
Bethany tried to think of reasons, the enemies Richard had made during Mary's reign, perhaps, or the enemies she had made. That idea brought an image of Anthony into her mind, but she pushed it away. He would not do this, surely not.
Richard spent a lot of time out searching as well, but he needed his wife’s comfort as much as she needed his. While half the countryside was out searching, they spent some little time holding each other and praying. Bethany could not eat, nor sleep and the strain was beginning to tell.
As they sat together in the small sitting room, Richard gently placed his hand on her swollen stomach to assure himself that he
could still feel movement from the child.
"You must eat, sweetheart," he said, "and you must rest. We do not want to lose another child."
"I cannot. Joshua is so little. He will be so frightened; he will be wanting his mother. Why have we not heard?"
The sound of hooves outside the window drew their attention and they both looked up, hoping this might be news of their son. Richard's expression hardened as he looked out of the window.
"It is Anthony," he said angrily. "He is all we need right now. I am in no mood to be arguing with him."
Anthony strode into the room with a look of anguish on his face. It had been three years since they had seen him, three years since he told his cousin he should do away with his treacherous commoner of a wife and take another, one who would obey him. Three years since he forced Richard to choose between him and her.
He had matured somewhat and now wore a beard and moustache, which made him look older, and his body had filled out a little. Bethany’s memory was of a boy, but looking at this man who stood before her, Rachel's encounter with him made far more sense.
He held himself with an air of self assurance, as though he expected the deference of everyone around him. There was no hint of apology in his expression or his demeanour.
Now he stood still and his glance passed from Richard to his wife with an inscrutability in his gaze which had not been there when last they met. His expression was unreadable, they could not fathom whether his concern was genuine. All Bethany knew was that he believed Rachel's lie, and he was feeling smug about it.
"I heard about your son," he said with concern in his tone. "I came to see if there was anything I could do to help."
Richard took a step toward him, but she knew he did not trust this gesture of good will. They had said some terrible things to each other when last they met.
"Bethany," he was saying. "Can you both forgive me?"
She looked to Richard for guidance and she saw Anthony grin. He obviously believed she had looked to him for permission; nothing had changed.
Anthony moved toward him and held out his arms and Richard shook his hand; he was not comfortable with hugging him, that was clear, and when she saw Anthony's expression as he looked at her, she did not trust this display of reconciliation.
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