“Good evening, my dear.” Lord Varden joined her, kissing her hand. “What is it that you would tell me?”
“The French intend breaking off the king’s betrothal to Margaret of Austria in favor of Anne of Brittany,” Arabella said low, and then proceeded to tell him everything that the duc had told her.
“God’s blood!” Lord Varden said, whistling softly. “That is a piece of news, my dear! King Henry will be most pleased with you.”
“I want to go home now,” Arabella said. “The king said no more than a year, Tony, and a year has passed. I have gotten the information that we sought, and I want to go home. I need to see my daughter, who has undoubtedly forgotten she has a mother by now. I long to be at Greyfaire which will surely be mine once again. I have more than earned it and expiated my debt to the king.”
“I must send this news to England first, Arabella,” Lord Varden said.
“Let me be your messenger,” Arabella pleaded softly.
Lord Varden shook his head. “I cannot allow you to return to England without the king’s permission,” he told her.
“I cannot continue to be Adrian Morlaix’s whore, Tony,” she replied. “No matter how hard I try and convince myself that what I have been doing is right, it is wrong! I have done what I must in order to save my home. I shall have to live with the memory of that for the rest of my life. I can continue no longer, however. Let me go home!”
“You shall go nowhere, Arabella Grey, but to the Bastille!” a familiar and venomous voice hissed. Sorcha Morton, now Duchesse de St. Astier, appeared from behind a tall rosebush. “And you also, my lord! Neither of you will go anywhere but to the executioner.”
Lord Varden paled momentarily. Arabella, however, but a moment ago near tears, suddenly became a tigress.“Indeed, Madame la Duchesse?”she snarled back. “And why do you think I should go to the Bastille?”
“You are a spy,” the duchesse said low. “I shall inform on you, and not only endear myself to my husband, but to my new king as well. This is my revenge on you for all your insults at King James’ court. You will end your days unloved! A toothless old hag far from your beloved Greyfaire!”
“Beware, Madame la Duchesse,” Arabella warned her. “You are far from home and think your past a secret thing, but if you dare to expose me, I shall expose you! How do you think the most noble and proud Duc de St. Astier will appreciate grafting on his ancient family tree a brand new bride who whored her way through the Scots court with shameless abandon? I know some rare tales of you, Sorcha Morton, including the incestuous relationship you had with not one, but several of your cousins. Say one word to anyone about what you have just overheard here this night, and you will find your marriage quickly annulled. As for you, my dear Sorcha, you will be sent home in disgrace to face an embarrassed king. There is nothing for you in Scotland now, and I doubt that Jamie Stewart would be happy to see you back under any circumstances. He has fallen in love, I hear, and indiscreet, cast-off old amours are certainly not welcome in his life. Betray me and you will end your days in the gutter from whence you surely sprang! I have not come so close to victory to have you snatch it from me. I will kill you first!” Arabella declared, her green eyes blazing dangerously, her hands clenching and unclenching themselves into fists.
“Bitch!”replied Sorcha, now near tears herself. “I hate you so much that I shall be unable to hold my tongue. I fear you will ruin me!”
“Hold it but three days, madame,” Lord Varden said coaxingly in gentle tones, “and we will be gone from France. With the temptation removed, Madame la Duchesse, you may, in good conscience, remain silent forever.” Taking her hand, he smiled winningly into her eyes.
“Why can I not expose youafteryou are gone?” the duchesse demanded petulantly.
“It will look as if you were in collusion with us, my dear,” Lord Varden warned, still holding her hand and gazing into her amber eyes.
“Can you not be content knowing that you have driven us from France before we have fully completed our mission?” Arabella lied, her tone sounding most aggrieved.
The duchesse brightened. “I have stopped you, haven’t I?” she said, and she smiled happily.
“Indeed you have, my dear,” Lord Varden told her, smiling back at her warmly. “Be content in having done that,andin your incredible good fortune at marrying your duc. The little knowledge we have been able to glean in these many months of trying is certainly not of any vital importance to France’s safety. No wars will be caused over it.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it lingeringly. “If you can keep our little secret, my dear duchesse, I shall send you a pretty bauble from Calais.”
“A wedding gift, my lord?” Sorcha said coyly, moving against him provocatively.
Anthony Varden smiled slowly down into her face. “Something for you alone,my dear,”he said softly, and then, “What an adorable mouth you have, duchesse. I do not believe I kissed the bride, did I?”
To Arabella’s intense amusement, Sorcha giggled girlishly and presented her lips to Lord Varden for a kiss. He obliged the lady with a deliberately unhurried embrace that left her frankly breathless.
The new duchesse, however, recovered quickly. “I am sorry you must leave France, my lord,” she said boldly.
“I,as well, my dear duchesse,” Lord Varden told her sincerely.
“We are going to be missed,” Arabella said practically.
“I am afraid Lady Grey is correct,” Lord Varden said with a great show of reluctance. Releasing the duchesse’s hand, he then tucked it through his arm. “You will allow me to escort you back to the entertainment, of course, my dear.” Ignoring Arabella, he began to lead Sorcha Morton back up the gravel path from the rose garden.
Alone, Arabella strolled once more through the fragrant bushes. It was unfortunate that the new Duchesse de St. Astier had overheard her conversation with Anthony Varden. Arabella was not comfortable with the idea that Sorcha Morton would keep their secret willingly. Hopefully, the threats of exposure regarding her past conduct, and Tony’s sensual charm, would keep the bitch in line, but Arabella did not want to trust either of their lives to chance. One good thing had come from all of this, however. She was going to get to go home immediately. When and how they would travel would, of course, be up to Lord Varden.
“Here you are,ma Belle.” Adrian Morlaix was by her side. “Did the entertainment bore you,chérie?”
“Aye,” she responded languidly. “And I am warm in this gown as well. I thought perhaps to cool myself amid the roses, but there is no breeze,” Arabella complained, fanning herself rapidly to punctuate the point.
“Mayhap you will be cooler out of your gown,” he murmured, and kissed her mouth lightly. “I have a surprise for you,ma Belle.”
