“Now, you understand this is not to be washed with soap,” Josephine de Chaney said not unkindly to Gabriella a few days later, holding up a fine scarf of pale blue silk. Her voice was soft, gentle and melodious. “Nor is this.” She indicated an embroidered brocade overtunic. “And this should not be wrung out, ever,” she finished, pointing to a velvet gown lying upon the new bed.
It was a large, heavy piece of furniture built of age-darkened oak and made up with the thickest feather bed Gabriella had ever seen. On top was spread a finely embroidered coverlet, Josephine’s handiwork perhaps. There were also several colorful cushions and pillows laid at the head. It looked, Gabriella thought, like something more befitting an Oriental potentate’s harem than a Norman lord’s bedchamber. Why, even her father would have considered it extravagant.
The marble floor had been covered with beautiful, thick carpets, woven with scarlet, green, indigo and blue wool. Additional furniture had been unloaded from the baggage carts by this time, and included a slender, delicate chair, a table strewn with bottles and jars that, by their scent, were perfumes, soaps and perhaps cosmetics, although Josephine de Chaney certainly had no need for artifice, a finely carved table, a multibranched candle stand, and a large mirror that was propped on the table. She wondered if the money she owed the baron and that being collected daily by Chalfront would be used to add more cushions, or provide another silver goblet. The baron had nearly doubled the rents, and sent along his soldiers to enforce the collection. When she heard of this, she did not begrudge William and the others their reaction to the baron’s suggestion that they pay her debt. Of course she had been dismayed by their reaction before the baron, but he was an intimidating nobleman and they were only peasants. If they would not help her, surely it was because they dared not. It had been wrong of her to be upset with them.
Besides, the baron had asked his question before they had any idea what the increase in the rent was going to be, and later, when the amount was made known, she couldn’t find it in her heart to blame them anymore. She would rather continue as a servant than see their families impoverished.
“I understand, my lady,” Gabriella replied woodenly, for Josephine was clearly expecting her to say something.
Josephine sat on the delicate chair and pondered her reflection in the mirror, arranging the folds of her splendid gown of soft, dark green wool. A goldcolored silken shift showed at the neck of the bodice, beneath the hem of the gown, and where the long, pointed cuffs were rolled back. Around her slim waist was a girdle of gold links, and about her neck was a chain, also of gold. An emerald pendant hung from it, nestling above her breasts.
Gabriella instinctively avoided the mirror. She could guess how she looked compared to Josephine de Chaney, without visual evidence.
“I know this has not been easy for you, Gabriella.”
“No, my lady,” she answered, thinking it so obvious, what need was there to say so? She had no wish to discuss her situation with anyone, let alone a woman like Josephine de Chaney, who had used her body to achieve prosperity.
“I am not your enemy, Gabriella,” Josephine said so kindly that Gabriella was immediately ashamed of her harshly condemning thought. “Indeed, I was once in a similar position myself.”
“So Baron DeGuerre told me.”
Josephine was obviously taken aback. “He did? When?”
“The night… the night you arrived, my lady,” Gabriella replied, trying not to blush and not succeeding. The memory of her time alone with the baron was all too vivid as she stood in this particular room.
“When you were here alone together?” Josephine’s lovely, large eyes widened. “You spoke of me?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Josephine leaned toward Gabriella, an intent expression on her face. “What did Etienne say about me?”
“He said that you were from an impoverished family,” Gabriella answered. “He said I could follow your example, and when I said I would rather d—not, he told me I should not be so swift to judge, since I did not know your circumstances.”
“Really? Etienne said that?” Josephine remarked with a pleased and beautiful smile that displayed her perfect teeth.
Was it any wonder she used her beauty, Gabriella thought suddenly. It was a powerful commodity. “He said that, my lady.”
Josephine reclined on the soft cushion against the back of the chair and her expression grew magnanimous. “He spoke the truth about my past, you know. My father lost all our money in drink, and when he died, I was left on my own. I had to make my way in the world, and the first thing I did was find a strong protector.” She eyed Gabriella shrewdly. “There are worse fates, as I believe you are discovering. Tell me, now that you have sampled what it is like to be a servant, are you not tempted to do the same?”
“As I said to Baron DeGuerre, my lady, I could not.”
Josephine adjusted one of her cuffs and laughed indulgently. “You are a woman of principle, are you?” She became more serious. “You cannot shame me with your words, Gabriella. I made my choice, and I am content with it, as you are with yours, for the present. I shall ask you again in a few months how you enjoy being a lady’s maid. You may discover that it is much more pleasant to be waited upon than to do the waiting.”
“If pleasantness was all I wanted, I would have taken the baron’s money and gone to a convent.”
Again Josephine de Chaney’s melodious laughter rippled through the chamber. “I think that would be the most unpleasant place of all, with no men!” The courtesan became thoughtful again. “Is there no one who can rescue you from a life of servitude?” she asked solicitously. “No relative? No sweetheart?”
“If my brother knew what had happened, he would come at once.”
“Ah, yes, this brother of yours. You truly have no idea where he is, then?”
Gabriella shook her head.
“How sad.” Josephine surveyed Gabriella. “You’re a pretty thing. I cannot believe there is no lover to save you.
“There is not, my lady.”
Josephine gave her another shrewd and searching look. “Not Chalfront?”
“Definitely not.”
“I confess I concur with your taste,” Josephine said ruefully. “He is not much of a man to stir a maiden’s heart.”
“I do not wish to marry anybody, my lady.”
“No, of course not,” Josephine replied in a tone that implied she thought that would change soon enough. “I believe I shall go to the hall. Sir George is sure to be there, and he is a charming, amusing fellow. He shall keep me most pleasant company while Etienne is out trying to discover if any of the other tenants have thought to cheat him. Heaven help them if they have! Please tidy up here, and then you may do as you wish until the evening meal.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Gabriella replied as Josephine glided out of the room.
Gabriella began folding the heavy gown of gold velvet with quick, abrupt movements. Josephine de Chaney’s tone, words and attitude were absolutely insulting! She didn’t want that woman’s pity!
She grabbed the lovely scarf of pale blue silk as thin as a butterfly’s wing, then gasped as her grip wrinkled the beautiful fabric. She would have to be more careful.
She grinned ruefully. She should not take her anger out on a piece of cloth, especially one like this.
Gabriella walked over to the large, surely expensive mirror. Now that Josephine was gone, she gazed at her reflection with frank curiosity.
She was rather pleasantly surprised, for she looked better than she thought she would. Her skin was a bit brown from being in the sun, but not overmuch. Her hair was rather unkempt, and after a guilty glance at the door, she picked up a brush and quickly smoothed her wavy locks.
Her face seemed a little thinner, yet that was not so bad. Indeed, it made her eyes look larger, and since she considered them her best feature, this was not displeasing.
Not that she had any intention of appearing attractive. That would only bring mo
re unwanted attention.
A mixture of pleasant scents drifted to her nostrils and she picked up one of the crystal bottles. She closed her eyes and inhaled, catching the smell of roses, a light scent like the first blossoms to appear on a bush. She set it down, then, with another furtive glance at the door and a sigh of regret for her own lost clothing, draped the scarf about her head.
It was hard to give up such luxuries. If she had been as outstandingly beautiful as Josephine, might her choice not have been the same? She still had the hope of Bryce’s return to make her strong; apparently Josephine had been left completely alone and friendless.
She had quite a friend now in Baron DeGuerre.
Who, she suddenly realized as she glanced at the mirror, was standing in the doorway, watching her. Gabriella snatched the scarf from her head with a gasp as she whirled to face him.
“This room is in complete disarray,” the baron observed as he sauntered inside.
His cheeks were ruddy from the cold autumn air, and his hair looked windblown, as if he had just returned from a swift ride or dashed up the stairs. She wondered if he had expected to find her here, and what it meant if he did.
“Yes, my lord. I was to tidy it.” Gabriella swallowed hard, not sure what to do. Josephine’s clothes were scattered everywhere, but she no more wanted to be alone in this room with the baron than she wanted to be alone with Robert Chalfront or Philippe de Varenne.
“Then continue.”
She nodded wordlessly before doing as she was told. She moved as quickly as she could, but her haste only made her clumsy, and even more aware of the baron’s presence as he stood in the center of the now well appointed room.
“So, Chalfront wants you for his wife,” the baron remarked. “Your refusal was rather… unequivocal, shall I say?”
“One of the last things my brother said to me before he went away was that I shouldn’t trust Chalfront,” she said as she arranged the bottles on the table, knocking one over and righting it quickly.
“And you believed him?”
“Of course,” she answered without a moment’s hesitation. “What happened after my father died proved that he was right. If Chalfront had been a completely honest, trustworthy, competent bailiff, I would not be indebted to someone like you,” she said, her tone carefully matter-of-fact as she repeated aloud what she had so often told herself. She folded the pale blue scarf and took it to the large open chest, keeping as far away from Baron DeGuerre as possible.
“But before that,” he said, his tone equally bland, “did you have any reason to suspect Chalfront?” He came toward her and she hurried over to pick up a gown laid upon another chest. “It is my understanding that your brother disliked Chalfront because the bailiff often cautioned your father against giving his son extravagant amounts of money,” the baron continued.
Gabriella’s hands slowed as she folded the gown. “During his final illness, my father continually spoke of something that was not right,” she said quietly, her eyes on the gown. “He often mentioned Robert’s name in the same breath. Then, when the state of my father’s finances became known, it was clear to me that both Bryce and my father were right to suspect Chalfront.”
“Yet Chalfront maintains he tried to warn your father.” The baron’s voice sounded low and soft in her ear and she knew he was standing directly behind her. She tried to continue folding the heavy gown, as if his proximity were not disturbing her. “Chalfront maintains he even gave your father money of his own,” he said. “Did he not tell you of this?”
Gabriella turned abruptly and glared at the baron’s handsome face, frustrated by the strain of his presence and his questions. “Since you seem so fascinated by my relationship with Chalfront, I will tell you all about it,” she said angrily, hurrying to the other side of the room before facing him. “First, you must try to understand that I loved my father very much, something I am sure a man like you probably cannot comprehend. When he died, I was devastated, but I was not given any time to grieve. There were so many creditors to appease, workmen to pay, and little money.
“Nevertheless, I did what I could to pay all his debts, obviously without complete success. Robert helped me, but he made his assistance sound so condescending! And then he intruded upon my sorrow and offered to marry me, this man who I believed could have—and should have—guided my father’s finances better, if he had not actually stolen from him, for which I admit there is no evidence. I ask you, Baron DeGuerre, how would you feel about such a person?”
He regarded her steadily, apparently unmoved by her story or her question, and she took several deep breaths to calm herself.
“Do you still think he cheated your father?”
Gabriella clutched the velvet gown and tried to regard Baron DeGuerre with the same impartiality that he did her. She wanted to tell him, yes, Chalfront had cheated him. That her family’s troubles were someone else’s fault. That her father had been deceived, lied to, tricked.
And yet her sense of honesty held her. Her father was an extremely generous man who enjoyed luxury, and it was not hard to believe that he had not been wise. Would Chalfront have stayed to face the wrath of a man like Baron DeGuerre if he had been dishonest? Would he not have gone as far away as he could?
Her love and loyalty to her family might have made her blind to the truth, and honor demanded honesty. “I don’t know, my lord,” she said at last.
The baron’s gaze went to her hands, then back to her face, his expression unchanging. “I saw the rent rolls. Your father was much too lenient with his tenants. The rents, the pannage, the heriot should have been higher. Poaching is completely out of hand. The mill rate was appallingly low.”
“My father was beloved!” she protested, as much to remind herself of the parent she had loved as to give the baron an explanation.
“I’m sure he was.” Baron DeGuerre eyed her coldly. Another man, one who valued seduction over honesty, might have told her that her father was merely too beneficent and too kind. Etienne, however, was not such a man. “Anyone who lets his underlings take advantage of him is a fool.”
Gabriella’s lower lip started to tremble and she stared down at the soft fabric in her slender, shapely hands. It was far too easy to imagine those hands on his body.
“Anyone,” he repeated firmly, commanding himself to pay attention to his own words, “and I have no intention of being made a fool. My steward found no evidence of tampering in the accounts when he first examined them. Still, such a crime would be easy for a bailiff to hide. I will make sure Jean Luc checks them all again, carefully.”
She nodded slowly and chewed her lip, her sudden vulnerability nearly overwhelming him. She had always been so strong before, and he had desired to partake of her passionate strength. Now, however, he wanted to take her in his arms and simply hold her, to offer her the comfort of his embrace.
This was a feeling so new to him that he suddenly felt hopelessly ignorant and alone, as he had all those years ago when he had entered his first tournament. He had been an untried youth, thrust into the world of arms and men, at once frightened and thrilled.
However, he had displayed nothing of his emotions then, and he wouldn’t do so now. “If Jean Luc discovers that Chalfront spoke the truth, you will owe him an apology,” he remarked calmly.
She raised her eyes to look at him, strong again. Thank God. “If I must, I will make him one,” she said just as calmly.
“If you give your apology with that same lack of grace,” he observed, “I think it would be better not done.”
“I have my work to do, Baron DeGuerre.”
And so did he, but he was strangely reluctant to leave her. “Look at me, Gabriella,.”
She glanced quickly at his face, then away.
“No, look at me,” he commanded, approaching her. He took her chin in his hand, the contact as exciting as another woman’s most passionate kiss would be. “I regret what happened in the solar with the reeve and the others.” His voice was s
oft, almost gentle, and Gabriella thought she saw kindness in his eyes that was nearly as surprising as his comment about her apology.
She wished he would let go. Or leave the room. Or that Josephine de Chaney would appear. Anything, other than to be alone with him, too well aware of the hot heaviness in her limbs, the rapid beating of her heart and the unbidden blossoming desire in her breast.
“It is never easy to lose one’s innocence, but the world is a harsh place, and we all must learn that lesson.” He let go of her chin but didn’t move away. “Nevertheless, I do not enjoy being the instrument of enlightenment.”
“I was not aware I was being taught a lesson,” she said, trying to sound angry or cold and failing miserably.
His piercing blue eyes seemed to lock onto hers. “We are all alone in this world and can count on no one’s help.”
“I … I have my brother!” she protested weakly.
“Who is nowhere to be found. And those others in the village, the ones you are so loath to leave, they would not help you.”
“They would! If I were truly in danger—”
“They would save themselves first. It is the way of the world, Gabriella, and you have to learn that.”
She shook her head as she lowered it. “No, I won’t believe it!”
“Then you will be disappointed many times.” His voice dropped to a deep whisper, like the low moan of the sea. “I would spare you that, Gabriella. I would help you.”
Suddenly Gabriella had a clear vision of herself in the baron’s arms. Kissing him. Caressing him and being caressed in turn. Lying m his bed and making love.
She emitted a little gasp and drew away, horrified by her own reaction. This man had taken her home, made her a servant—and she wanted him to love her?
“I don’t want your help!” she wanted to say, but the words would not come as he put his muscular arms around her and drew her toward him. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she lifted her face to him, her gaze searching his face, seeking…what? The look of blatant desire in his eyes, or something more … ?
The Baron's Quest Page 7