by Julia Latham
“They won’t find you, mistress,” Mary mumbled. “I tell you we’ve left…Bannaster land.”
Cicely gasped. Surely this was the fever talking. When had Diana ever been to Castle Bannaster?
Mary lifted a hand weakly. “He deserved to die for how he treated us all…They’ll never know what ye did to save me.”
“Who deserved to die?” Cicely demanded.
But Mary’s lips had stopped moving, and she seemed to sink deeper into sleep. For another half hour, Cicely bathed her face and arms, trying to encourage her to speak again. Had Diana killed someone at Castle Bannaster? Cicely wouldn’t put it past her, with those deadly skills she’d insisted on learning. But who had deserved to die? The only person she could think of was the late viscount, who was notorious for abusing his servants—although many of them had probably thought they would be rewarded for giving in to him.
But hadn’t Diana just said that Lord Bannaster had been suspected in his brother’s death? And if he was suspected, then the true murderer had never been caught.
Cicely straightened, letting the cloth fall from her fingers onto the edge of the bed. Had Diana killed him to save the women he’d been abusing? Years ago, Diana had returned from a several-month visit with a friend, bringing both Mary and Joan, two new maidservants for the keep. That was when Archie had been infuriated by her conduct, and banished her to Kirkby Keep.
Mary’s eyes began to flutter.
“Mary?” Cicely asked softly. “I have brought soup. Would you like some?”
It took great effort for the maidservant to focus on her, and she looked startled to see her.
“Mistress…Cicely?”
Cicely smiled, uncovering the tray and lifting the bowl into her lap. She spooned some of the broth. “Open wide.”
Obediently, Mary did, swallowing several spoonfuls.
“Mary,” Cicely began, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. “Where did you and Joan live before Kirkby Keep?”
“I…in a castle, mistress.”
“But where? You just now told me that you came from Bannaster lands.”
The woman was obviously too weak to hide the sudden terror in her eyes. “I—I did?”
“Never mind,” Cicely said, feeling a deep satisfaction. “I must have misunderstood.”
She was feeling so happy that she fed the maidservant the half of the soup before getting to her feet. “Sleep well, Mary. I will send someone to look in on you this afternoon.”
“I…thank you, mistress.”
Cicely was late for dinner, but she did not mind. She felt as light as a butterfly, and her future seemed to stretch before her with happiness. She would be able to put Diana in her place. No longer would Cicely have to watch Lord Bannaster’s gaze settle on her sister, while she felt helpless and outraged and confused. It had been like childhood all over again, where no matter how perfect and lovely she was, her parents focused on Diana and her manly exploits.
Diana would now have to stop encouraging Lord Bannaster, or suffer the consequences.
Just after dinner, Diana and Cicely opened the package sent by their brother in time for the holiday. For once Archie had thought of them, and sent them each a necklace—of common stones, it was true, but Diana was grateful to be remembered.
Diana had made Cicely a headpiece and veil, and Cicely had embroidered several handkerchiefs for her. Tom had once again surprised them each with a gift, little gold cups. He had not had those in his saddlebags when Diana had searched them. As Diana thanked Tom, Cicely graciously waited her turn, not intruding as they spoke about the workmanship of the cups. Diana felt unsettled.
During the afternoon, Diana moved through the rounds of the dagger competition and took first place. She thought of what Tom had said, that the men she’d trained with had been men who wouldn’t consider themselves her equal, could never treat her as anything more than the mistress of the castle. But there were other men here, not beholden to her, and several even looked…impressed.
But she found that the only man who mattered was Tom, and he looked at her with pride and even a glimpse of tenderness, which he quickly masked. It struck her heart in a way that made her catch her breath, which worried her.
Diana was in her bedchamber changing for supper when the door opened, and as usual, Cicely sailed in.
Diana knew it was useless to ask her sister to knock. Dryly, she said, “You are just in time to tighten the laces of my gown.”
Cicely’s smile was radiant. “Of course!”
Diana felt a shiver of unease. When her sister was this happy, it usually boded ill. “Go ahead. Tell me what you came to say.”
“Lord Bannaster is finished courting you.”
When the laces were tight, Cicely sank onto Diana’s bed, leaning back on her hands, her skirts puffing around her.
Diana eyed her and carefully said, “I thought he’d decided to treat us equally.”
“He had, but you will now dissuade him.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because I know you killed his brother to save Mary and Joan.”
The truth of her words struck Diana like a blow to the stomach. She had spent so many years fearing discovery, then gradually relaxing her vigil, then ramping it up again when Tom had arrived.
But hearing it like this, from so unexpected a source, had shocked her.
She called on every bit of control to say evenly, “Whatever are you talking about?”
“Do not blame Mary. She is so ill, and you were not here to take her a dinner tray.”
Because I was with Tom, Diana thought distantly. “Poor Mary is still ill?”
“I fed her most of a bowl of soup, so I think she is beginning to recover. But first, she was feverish, and quite talkative. I found it so fascinating. To think you rescued her from the evil Lord Bannaster. I am so proud of you!”
Diana could only stare down at her sister, sitting on the bed like a queen, her beautiful face animated with pleasure.
Cicely tsked and shook her head. “But what would our Lord Bannaster say? You murdered his brother, and allowed him to accept everyone’s suspicion.”
Diana couldn’t even think of a response, just watched her sister with vague puzzlement, not understanding how they could even be related.
“I am certain that you murdered him to save every woman in the castle, and that was noble of you. But perhaps Lord Bannaster—or the king—will not see it that way.”
“What do you want, Cicely?” Diana asked coldly.
“No explanation, no denial? I am so disappointed. I don’t even know why you were at Castle Bannaster.”
Diana linked her hands behind her back, afraid she would slap her sister.
“I can see you are in no mood to satisfy my curiosity,” Cicely said with grave disappointment. “So I will simply repeat what you seem to have forgotten. You will tell Lord Bannaster that you no longer wish to be courted. I freely grant you permission to make up any story that you’d like, as long as he believes you. Then I will have him for myself, and soon, you and I will never have to see each other again. I’ll be free of this dreadful ruin of a castle.”
“And you think it will be that easy to convince him to marry you?”
Cicely’s smile was slow and gleeful. “He is a man, is he not? It will not be difficult to be alone with him, to allow him certain…liberties. And after that, honor will demand that he marry me.”
“If you think it will be that easy, then why do you even need me to dissuade him? It sounds as if you plan to attack him.”
Cicely’s smile vanished, and she rose to her feet. “Just do as I say and I will not have to tell everyone what you did.”
Until her sister had gone, Diana held herself so stiffly that it seemed she had to uncurl each finger from her tight fists. Her shoulders and neck ached with tension as she sat down very carefully on a bench.
She had known that the hidden truth would always be between her and Tom. Perhaps it was be
tter this way, she told herself, her eyes too dry for tears. Her rejection of Tom would be over with quickly, and he was too proud a man to beg her to return to him. After all, he hadn’t even offered marriage. They had just been two people enjoying themselves.
But now it was over. She had the League, which was all she’d ever wanted.
After Tom and Diana’s pleasant afternoon together, and his realization that he wanted to marry her, Tom had been anticipating supper. He had not figured out the best way to let Cicely know he’d made his decision, but he would find a way to do it gently.
He still did not quite know how he’d gone from angry prisoner to besotted lover, he thought with amusement. He sat down at the head table, which was now crowded with other visiting noblemen. As he spoke about the various matches of the day, he looked about idly, waiting for Diana. And then he saw her, dressed in a dark wine-colored gown, her lithe figure delicately rounded. She would make every man here who thought of her as just another competitor remember that she was a woman.
He wasn’t surprised when Cicely again forced Diana to sit on the far side of her, away from Tom. What did surprise him was that Diana avoided even speaking or looking at him the whole meal. He knew she was having difficulties with her sister. Perhaps she was even feeling guilty for their affair, though she should not. He had exchanged no promises with Cicely.
But Diana’s face was almost…pale, too somber, which was unlike her. He remembered his earlier concerns about the League infiltrating the tournament. If she were a member, she would think she couldn’t tell him. He was confident that he could eventually persuade her to share everything with him.
After supper and into the merriment of the evening, Cicely never left his side. She constantly touched his arm, leaned into him as she pointed out a juggler, or proclaimed about the sweet voices of the minstrels.
Diana remained on the opposite side of the hall. Hadn’t she recently told him that her people were upset he wasn’t courting the sisters equally? Then why was she avoiding him, giving him no chance to spend time with her?
Though Cicely tried to keep his attention, he could not miss that Diana danced repeatedly with the same man, Sir Bevis of Richmond. For the first time in his life, Tom experienced the ugliness of jealousy where a woman was concerned. Just this morn, he had been inside of her, pleasuring her, imagining asking her to be his bride.
Something was wrong, and the fact that she didn’t confide in him was his true worry.
If she left the great hall that evening, he never saw it, so he was unable to find her alone. At last he was forced to steal a moment of her time when she was speaking to a servant near the entrance to the kitchens. She turned around and came up short when she saw him waiting for her.
She didn’t meet his eyes. “My maidservant, Mary, is ill. I will be going up to visit her.”
“Diana, what is going on?”
Her gaze lifted, but she looked past him. He saw her eyes narrow, her jaw set. He looked over his shoulder and saw Cicely watching them. But instead of wearing her usual pout when she felt herself ignored, Cicely only smiled and waved, turning away in confidence.
Tom frowned down at Diana. “What is going on between you two?”
“I cannot…be with you anymore,” she said woodenly.
Furious that she had not discussed her change of heart, he said, “Look at me, before I put my hands on you before all of your people and give you a good shake!”
She lifted her gaze at last. He saw the cool gray of her eyes and could read nothing.
“This morn I realized that you might be thinking of me as more than a mistress,” Diana said in a low voice. “But you see that my passion is in tournaments, not in the foolish duties of a wife. I thought you understood that before, but our time alone this morn made me see that I needed to make clear our situation.”
He blinked at her in surprise. “So…you want to be my mistress, not my wife.”
She shook her head, and he saw a crack of exasperation break through her impassive mask.
“It was a brief affair. Surely you have had those. And it is done.” She went to move past him, and when he reached to take her arm, she drew back, saying with fury, “Do not touch me.”
And then she was gone, and he was left to stare at her stiff back.
She could not possibly believe he would accept such nonsense. She was not a woman who trusted easily, and granting her body to a man had required her utmost trust. Something had happened to make her behave this way, and he would find out what it was.
Chapter 18
Diana moved through the rest of the evening in a blur. Somehow she spoke to people, called, “Wassail!” at the appropriate times, kept her guests entertained, and oversaw the servants. She knew Cicely sparkled like the crown jewel of the tournament, but Diana paid her little heed.
Because Diana’s heart was breaking.
Having to tell Tom those terrible things had torn her up inside, and she would never be the same again. She’d seen anger and confusion in his face, but she sensed he was not ready to believe her. She would have to do even more to convince him that she was finished with him, watch his face as she hurt him again and again, until at last, he would only feel disgust for her.
To make everything worse, she saw when Cicely led Tom from the great hall, as if they were looking for privacy.
Diana fled to her bedchamber, barely holding back the tears until she was alone.
When the castle had at last settled down for the night, Tom stood outside Diana’s bedchamber, deciding how to approach her. He knew she’d watched him leave with Cicely, and yet she’d allowed it, as if she thought he would bed two sisters on the same day!
Whatever was going on between them, he did not want to make it worse, so he’d been gentle when he’d refused Cicely’s attempts at seduction. He’d talked about her being a nobleman’s daughter, and how he respected her. He’d left her with the implication that he was still open-minded about his future. And although she’d been understanding in her manner, he knew she had not been pleased.
He knocked on Diana’s door.
“Who is it?” she called in a pleasant voice.
He walked in and firmly closed the door behind him. “Not your sister or your servants, so you can put away the false demeanor.”
He heard a shocked gasp, but for a moment, all he could focus on was Diana, dressed only in a night rail, long linen that skimmed her figure. She stood near the bed, which had been turned down for the night.
Then he realized she had not been the one who gasped.
A maidservant whom he didn’t recognize stood at the washstand, holding a cloth to her chest as if he’d shocked her. Which, of course, he had. But if she was here with Diana, then surely she was loyal and would say nothing.
“Joan, you may leave,” Diana said quietly. “This rude viscount will be on his way soon.”
The girl turned her face away and hurried from the bedchamber. For just a moment, Tom felt an unusual tug of familiarity, but since he’d spent over a fortnight at Kirkby Keep, he’d surely seen her among the servants.
Diana did not break the icy silence between them, so Tom folded his arms across his chest and watched her. She pretended to plump the cushions on her bed, then moved to the washstand to dampen a facecloth.
Tom snorted. “You cannot believe that I will leave just because you’re ignoring me. Not after those foolish things you said to me in the great hall.”
She gave a heavy sigh. “Tom—”
He strode forward and stopped before her. “You saw me leave with Cicely, and you allowed it. I felt like a New Year’s present from one sister to another.”
Red crept into her cheeks. “Was I supposed to scream your name with jealousy? Did you spend so many years without a woman that you demand our constant attention?”
He flinched, but realized that she did, too. He took her shoulders and found that she was trembling. “Diana, tell me what is wrong,” he said softly, urgently. “You kno
w I do not want Cicely. I want you.”
She shrugged off his hands. “Well you cannot have me.”
“Diana—”
“Do not continue this conversation,” she cried, “or I will have to tell you things you do not wish to hear!”
He was taken aback by her passion. “No longer should you keep your secrets from me. Tell me now.”
She moved away from him, and he let her. Hugging her arms, she kept her eyes averted, and then suddenly gave a bitter laugh. “When you first arrived, I thought you’d finally discovered the truth after all these years. And that’s the main reason I locked you in that dungeon.”
The tension and uncertainty crawled up his back, but he said nothing, not wanting her to stop.
“We met six years ago,” she said softly, “at Castle Bannaster.”
His mouth fell open. “I would have remembered you!”
With a shake of her head, she sadly said, “I looked different—I was different. Beneath you. Just another of those poor women in your household. I’d heard about them in London, heard how your brother treated them. And I was so full of my own skills, confident that God had given me a man’s talents for a reason. So I disguised myself as a maidservant to encourage them to demand better treatment.”
Cicely had inadvertently confirmed some of this story, by saying that Diana had been gone several months. And then he realized what she was trying to say.
“It was me, that night in your brother’s bedchamber,” she whispered harshly, closing her eyes. “I had saved Mary from him, but could not escape. And then he tried to rape me, and I was forced to kill him.”
He flinched, remembering the flickering light from the hearth, the image of the woman on the floor beneath his dead brother, her face turned away in shame.
“You set me free, saved me,” she went on in a dull voice, “and like a coward, I repaid you by allowing you to take the blame. This is what Cicely just discovered, what she is now holding over me.”
Something wasn’t making sense, but it wouldn’t come clear to him. All he saw was the guilt and pain that she’d been carrying with her for six years. “I made the decision to let you go. I thought you were a maidservant. They would have hung you for the crime, regardless of what my brother had done to you. Surely you understand that!”