Misbegotten

by Tamara Leigh

  Philippa urged her back up. Then, with a smile and a pat to Joslyn's shoulder, she turned and crossed to the dais, where her husband sat with furrowed brow and down-turned mouth. "The poor thing is in dire need of a bath and a maid, would you not say, my lord?"

  King Edward dragged his gaze from Joslyn to the woman he had made his wife, and though he must have tried to maintain his displeasure, a softening came into his eyes. "I would say she is far more in need of correction," he grumbled. "The witless woman left the palace without escort, and then lost herself in the streets of the city."

  "As you have more important affairs to attend to, my lord, you may be assured I will deal with this myself," Queen Philippa said. Then, as if the matter was settled, she turned and stepped down from the dais. "Come, Lady Joslyn. We must talk most seriously, you and I."

  How had she so easily slipped out from beneath the king's wrath? Joslyn wondered, in awe of the power this woman appeared to wield over the king of England. Stealing a glance at Edward, she saw his smooth brow had creased again—as if he questioned what had just occurred—but he did not call his wife back. Instead, he said, "I am placing you in the care of my queen, Lady Joslyn, but be warned that no more of your behavior of this day will I tolerate. Am I understood?"

  "You are, Your Majesty."

  He waved her away. "I've more important affairs to attend to," he said, announcing what the queen had reminded him of.

  In silence, Joslyn, her father, and Liam followed the queen from the hall and into the antechamber.

  Joslyn turned to the man whose cheeks bloomed with the color of too much drinking. "Father, you must go to Oliver," she said in a low voice. "He is at—"

  "I know where he is. I was readying to leave for the monastery when you returned." Sweeping his gaze over her, he shook his head. "Good God, Jossie, what did you think you were doing going into the city alone? You could have been ..." He sighed. "I should have taken the strap to you more often when you were young."

  As if he had ever taken the strap to her, Joslyn reflected. "The king has named Oliver heir of Ashlingford over Liam Fawke," she whispered.

  "Aye, 'twas what I was told."

  "Then you know I fear for Oliver."

  Humphrey Reynard looked past her to where Liam stood. "I do," he said, "though I wonder why this man would rescue you when he could very well have left you to your fate."

  "I also wonder at it," Joslyn said.

  Her father shook his head. "Had I only not been delayed in returning to Lon—"

  "Why were you delayed?"

  He hesitated. "Ah, daughter, though it grieves me to admit it, the delay was not in returning to London but in leaving it in the first place."

  "And how is that?"

  "The message came belated to me."

  "But it was sent directly to you at Lord Tyberville's manor."

  He shifted foot to foot. "Aye, it was, but I was not there when it arrived, and when finally it reached me ..." He shrugged. "I returned to Rosemoor only to discover you long gone from there."

  She ought to have known. "A game, Father?"

  He shrugged. "'Tis in my blood. You know that. I—"

  "Come, Lady Joslyn," Queen Philippa beckoned from the stairway. "We have much to do ere meal time."

  Humphrey Reynard could not have asked for a better excuse to slip away.

  With an obedient nod to the queen, Joslyn looked one last time into her father's lined face. "You will go to Oliver directly, won't you?" she asked.

  "Of course." He pressed her hands between his. "Worry no more on it, Jossie."

  Still, she would, though not as before when there had been only Liam Fawke and Father Ivo to watch him. The child was more precious to her than anything else in her world. Stepping back from her father, Joslyn resisted looking toward Liam. However, she had barely started forward when he called to her.

  "Lady Joslyn."

  She looked over her shoulder. "Sir Liam?"

  He pushed off the sideboard he had been leaning against but came no nearer. "I always keep my word," he said, a peculiar light in his eyes that might have been anger had Joslyn not already witnessed that emotion in them.

  And why wasn't it anger? Surely he must be unhappy that King Edward had not punished her for her disobedience. "Your word?" she asked.

  "My word," he repeated. Then, addressing her father, he said, "I will accompany you to the monastery."

  To Joslyn's chagrin, Humphrey Reynard accepted Liam's offer—if it could be called an offer. Crossing to the stairs, she followed the queen's ascent, but faltered when she realized Liam's "word" referred to the assurance he had given in the dark streets of London that she and Oliver were safe with him. She sighed. How comforting if only she could believe it.

  So enmeshed in her thoughts was Joslyn that she did not realize where she was until the queen pushed open a door and ushered her into a chamber of such grandeur it dazzled the eyes.

  "My apartments," Queen Philippa announced. Turning, she faced Joslyn while a maid lifted her ermine-edged mantle from her shoulders. "And your quarters for the duration of your stay with us."

  Joslyn gaped. She was to share this place with the queen as if she were one of her attendant ladies? As her own mantle was removed, she noticed at the far end of the chamber a group of five colorfully garbed women gathered before a softly flickering fire. Although they all held lengths of worked cloth in one hand and a needle in the other, they appeared more intent on conversation than on adding even a stitch to their embroidery.

  "I would be honored, Your Majesty," Joslyn said, "but I have been given an apartment of my own."

  "You were, but this is where you will sleep and occupy yourself henceforth."

  Did the queen suspect what Liam believed? Joslyn fretted. Had King Edward intended to visit Joslyn in that apartment? Worse, did the queen think Joslyn had invited him to come to her? Wishing fervently to defend herself but knowing it would be improper to do so, she simply said, "I thank you, my lady."

  The queen smiled and looked over her shoulder to the woman who had taken her mantle. "Send for water," she bade her. "The Lady Joslyn is in desperate need of a bath."

  Until that moment, Joslyn had forgotten her appearance, but now it came back to her. Lord, she was before a queen, and soon to be among the most noble of her ladies.

  "And now I will present you," the queen said as she stepped past Joslyn.

  Joslyn looked down at the gown she wore. True, it had taken little of the abuse which her mantle, slippers, and hair had been subject to, but still it showed traces of her flight through those filthy streets. "I am hardly presentable," she said.

  "Ah, child," the queen murmured, as if speaking to an awkward daughter, "simply smile and none will find anything amiss."

  Hoping Philippa was right, Joslyn followed the regal woman into the first of what appeared to be four chambers.

  "Ladies," the queen called to them.

  Immediately, all five looked around in surprise. Then they rose from their stools, bowed, and murmured greetings to their queen.

  "We've a guest, ladies," Philippa said. "Lady Joslyn Fawke, soon to be of the barony of Ashlingford now that her son has been named its heir."

  "Ashlingford," one lady said. "Then 'tis not the Irish bastard who will inherit?"

  Queen Philippa swiftly interceded. "Unbeknown to any, the Lady Joslyn was wed to Baron Maynard Fawke some years ago. As their son is quite young, Sir Liam will continue to manage the barony as he did for his brother."

  It amazed Joslyn that the queen was so well apprised of the situation. What else did she know?

  A sweet-faced young woman who could be no more than sixteen summers of age leaned toward a lady older by several. "Tis a pity the Irishman did not inherit," she whispered. "He is quite handsome, and a fine husband he would have made with such a barony."

  Another of the ladies asked, "You have seen him?"

  The young woman's cheeks warmed with embarrassment at having been overhear
d. "From a ... a distance."

  "And how is that, Lady Cedra?" Queen Philippa asked, disapproval in her tone.

  Looking thrice more shamed by the queen's question, Cedra bit her bottom lip and shifted her gaze to her clasped hands. "Ah, my queen, truly I did not mean to listen in upon your conversation with Sir Liam, but when I came upon you in the garden late this morn, my ears could not throw back what they had already heard."

  So this was the business that had delayed Liam's departure from the palace.

  "You should always make your presence known." The queen's reprimand was a motherly one. "Tis unseemly in a lady to skulk among other people's conversations."

  Contrite, Lady Cedra bent her head. "I beg your forgiveness."

  Queen Philippa regarded her a moment longer, then stepped forward and tipped her chin up. "All I ask is that you remember this lesson," she said. "Tis of no good if you forget it."

  "I will remember, Your Majesty."

  The queen smiled again. Then, as if the incident had never occurred, she began introducing Joslyn to each of the ladies. "Lady Cedra, as you know." She nodded to the woman. "And this is Lady Amilie, beside her Lady Justina, and these two are the elder Lady Ellen and the younger Lady Ellen."

  Two Ellens. Mother and daughter? Joslyn wondered. But nay, though one was definitely older than the other, there could be no more than a half dozen years' difference between them.

  "Sisters." Queen Philippa answered the unspoken question. "Their mother so loved the name."

  "And why is Lady Joslyn in such disarray?" the tall thin-faced Lady Amilie asked.

  Slipping a wink to Joslyn, Queen Philippa said, "I fear the lady sees herself as something of an adventuress. She thinks naught of exploring the city on her own."

  "Oh ... my!" Lady Cedra breathed louder than the others. "Alone?"

  The queen chuckled. "As you can see, there is much to do ere she takes her place at the barony— and less than a day in which to do it, for on the morrow she and her son journey to Ashlingford."

  Joslyn's heart lurched. So they would go directly to their new home without first returning to Rosemoor.

  "I daresay there is much to do." Lady Amilie voiced clear disdain. "A lady would never even think of leaving the palace without a considerable escort. I know I would not."

  Reaching forward, Queen Philippa gently tweaked the woman's cheek. "Just as a lady would never accept a scoundrel's invitation to tryst beneath the stairs, hmm?" she said, laughter on the edge of her voice.

  Lady Amilie colored.

  "But enough of this," the queen said. She looked back at Joslyn. "Remove your garments and give them to Lady Justina. Then we will have you into a bath."

  Joslyn had never been overly modest, but neither had she ever gone unclothed before any other than her maid.

  "I've a robe you may don until the bathwater arrives," the queen said, as if reading her thoughts.

  "Thank you, Your Majesty."

  "I will do her hair," Lady Cedra offered.

  "I will read to her while she bathes," the younger Lady Ellen said.

  "And I?" The elder Ellen shrugged. "Ah, well, I suppose there is naught left for me but to stroll the garden."

  "Naught but for you and Amilie to tend me," the queen reminded her.

  The woman bowed her head. "But of course." "Enjoy your bath, my dear," Queen Philippa told

  Joslyn. "We will talk afterward." She turned away and left the chamber, Amilie and the elder Ellen following.

  Wondering what else the queen wished to talk to her about, Joslyn began to undress.

  9

  "Do not think I am unaware of my husband's appetites," Queen Philippa said.

  Joslyn started with surprise. Bathed, perfumed, garbed, and groomed, she had been savoring these few moments of solitude when the queen had stole behind her without warning.

  "Your Majesty?" she asked, turning to face her.

  Resplendent in red velvet, the queen smiled. Still, (here was a bitter tug to her lips that had not been there before. "I speak of the apartment, of course," she said.

  With dread understanding, Joslyn forced herself to hold the queen's gaze when what she wanted most was to look away. Liam had said, and now Philippa confirmed, that King Edward had intended to come to her for recompense.

  But did that mean Liam had lost Ashlingford for no other reason than that Joslyn had appealed to the king? Lord, she prayed not—unless, of course, it meant King Edward might reconsider his ruling. Surely she could not be blamed for the loss of Oliver's birthright if the king changed his mind, for even had she not recklessly strayed from the palace, she would have refused Edward had he come to her.

  "I had to leave the apartment," Joslyn said, "to assure my son and myself that all was well."

  The queen stared at her. "Then you did not know what my husband planned?"

  What a quandary Joslyn found herself in. "I suppose I should have known," she admitted, remembering the way the king had looked at her and, later, touched her, "but all I could think of was Oliver."

  As if searching for the truth in her words, Queen Philippa considered her a moment longer. "When word was brought me that my husband had installed you in that apartment, I must admit I was angry, but no more than usual. You see, Lady Joslyn, I love my lord very much, and I am certain he loves me, but it is difficult for him to pass by a lovely face when it is so easily in his power to enjoy it." With a sigh, she caught up the loose ends of her girdle and began rubbing the gold beads threaded upon it between her fingers. "Tis a shameful thing to admit, but I was relieved to hear you had disappeared from the palace."

  "It was the king who discovered me missing?"

  "Nay, but he would have, had your father's arrival not brought it to light first."

  "So you brought me to your apartments," Joslyn concluded.

  Queen Philippa turned and walked to the flickering fire. "Self-serving, hmm?" she mused, putting her hands out to warm them. "Aye, Lady Joslyn. 'Tis rare that I am able to manage my husband's infidelities, but in your case I saw the opportunity and took it. Quite unashamedly, I might add."

  "Even if— " how to say it? — "I would not have ..."

  Queen Philippa turned back. "Now that I have met you, my dear," she said, a smile returning to her face, "I can see I need not have worried." She stepped forward and patted Joslyn's shoulder. "Think no more on it. All is as it should be. On the morrow you will be on your way to your new home, and this need never be mentioned again."

  Joslyn was tempted to appeal to the queen for assistance in the matter of Ashlingford, but she did not. Providing King Edward was not so angered with her that he bestowed the barony upon Liam Fawke, the matter was settled. Naught to be gained from complaining. "I thank you, Your Majesty," she murmured.

  "And I you," Philippa answered. Then, almost to herself, she said, "Methinks Sir Liam is very wrong about you."

  Joslyn should have let it pass but could not help herself. "How do you know Sir Liam?" she asked. "What I mean is, Lady Cedra said you were with him in the garden this morn."

  Philippa chuckled. "Wondering if I am as unfaithful to my husband as he is to me?" Before Joslyn could protest, she shook her head. "I jest. Do not fear to have offended me." With a long sigh, she lowered herself into a plump armchair that looked never to have been sat upon. "As we've yet a few minutes," she said, "I will explain. I was at my husband's side seven years ago when Sir Liam and his brother came before the crown to argue whose right over Ashlingford was the greater. Myself, I thought it was

  Sir Liam whose claim ought to have been honored— even though he was not legitimate born."

  "Because his father had named him heir?"

  "That is part of it. After all, an astute man knows his sons better than they know themselves, and the old baron was indeed wise."

  "And the other part?"

  The queen shrugged. "Though it was more a feeling than anything else, it seemed to me Sir Liam was the more honorable. That he was honest and re
sponsible, whereas his brother ..." She frowned. "I am sorry, Lady Joslyn. I forget you were wed to Maynard Fawke."

  "I do not require an apology. Truly, I am grateful for the insight you have given me into a man I know so little."

  Philippa nodded. "I thought it was that way, but still it is not proper for me to tell you who your husband was when I knew him not. As I was saying, I was present when my lord decreed that Ashlingford should pass to the legitimate son. Throughout the proceedings, Liam Fawke had been so calm and confident that when he lost control of himself following the pronouncement, no one was prepared. Like a lion, he raged, and though that might have been the worst of it, his foolish uncle taunted him. Tis astonishing that one man could capture such strength in anger, but it took three—nay, four—of the guard to pull him off Father Ivo and drag him from the hall."

  The images rushing through Joslyn's mind caused fear to run up her spine. She could well imagine Liam/s anger. "What happened?" she asked softly.

  "The king was so infuriated by Sir Liam/s behavior that he ordered him imprisoned in the Beauchamp Tower, a prison few men leave alive. It is a most serious matter to be sent there."

  Hardly realizing she did so, Joslyn rubbed her hands up and down her arms to smooth the fine hairs that had risen there. "And was he taken to the tower?"

  The queen smiled. "Nay, but only because I humbled myself and pleaded for him." "You did? But why?"

  She sighed. "He is a handsome man, would you not say?"

  The question caught Joslyn unaware. "I . . . well, I suppose ..."

  "He is. Mayhap you do not see it now, but when you fear him less, you will hardly be able to overlook it."

  The truth was, Joslyn already knew it—and more. Though she tried to suppress the memory, she saw him again in her mind, his face so near hers she could feel the touch of his mouth again. Suddenly short of breath, she said, "I cannot believe you went to his aid simply because he was pleasing to the eye, Your Majesty."

  "I did not. As I have said, I felt for Sir Liam. I believed him wronged. Thus, in my mind he was justified in voicing his feelings, dangerous as they were."

  "And the king pardoned him?"