“I intend returning to England, to my home in the north, and neither you or anyone else will stop me! I shall never again venture far from Greyfaire, I assure you. I shall live a quiet, indeed, a most circumspect life, raising my child to be the new mistress of Greyfaire, and raising her little betrothed husband to both respect and husband not only my daughter, but her estate as well.”
The Duc de Lambour looked grieved. “Will you not be lonely,ma Belle?” he asked her sadly. “You speak of your child and of your Greyfaire, but you say nothing of love.”
Arabella laughed bitterly“Love?”she said scornfully. “By love, my lord, I assume you mean that illusion that is alleged to exist between men and women. There is no such thing except in children’s tales, and in the overly romantic songs that are sung by minstrels who wish to please their masters, and the gullible women whom those masters desire to seduce. I have been the recipient of men’s love in the past, my lord duc, and I far prefer the solitary life to such a life.”
“Let me prove you wrong, Arabella,” he begged her. “I know that my conduct several days ago was inexcusable, but if you can find it in your heart to forgive me,ma Belle, I will devote the rest of my life to expiating my sins against you. I love you as I have never before loved any woman!”
“Did you tell your poor Claude-Marie that, Adrian, before you incarcerated her at your chateau in Normandy? That you loved her as no other? Before you cut her off from your life, using her only as a brood mare to sire your heirs upon? Good manners bids me thank you for your proposal of marriage, and indeed I do, for I know you mean that proposal to be an honorable one. Common sense and hard experience tells me that my answer to you now is as it was before.No!Do not waste your time appealing to my heart, Adrian. I do not have one.”
“Mon Dieu!” he groaned. “You are cruel,chérie!”
“And you are kind, monseigneur?”she asked him. “When I bid youadieuin my letter several days ago, Adrian, I was kind. As kind as I dare be, for men are never really kind to the women they profess to care for, I have found.”
“Then there is no hope for us at all,ma Belle?”
“None,”she answered him firmly.
“Come, Adrian,mon ami,” Lord Varden said kindly. He wished to draw the duc’s attention away from Arabella before the duc’s disappointment turned to anger and thoughts of revenge. Adrian Morlaix was a most proud man. “Come and share a carafe of wine with me. You have ridden hard and far, I know. You will need strong evidence to refute the Duchesse de St. Astier’s charges against us, should she speak publicly and indiscreetly. You certainly want to retain your friendship with the king.”
“I will not be guilty of treason,” the duc said stubbornly, but he allowed Lord Varden to lead him to a table in the inn’s taproom in whose entry they had been standing.
“There is no treason involved,mon ami,” Anthony Varden said soothingly. “A bit of pillow talk that may or may not come to anything; and no one knows that it was said. Certainly you may easily silence the viperous tongue of Madame Marie-Claire by an intimate knowledge of her past, which I am certain Arabella will be pleased to pass on to you. As for Lady Grey’s and my disappearance, you can simply say we returned to Paris. That you were able to trace us that far, but after that you lost our trail, that Barbe, Lady Grey’s cook, told you we might be going to Hainault or Cleves, she wasn’t certain. Say that Arabella fought over what you considered a trifle, and then she left you in a pique. Say I accompanied her because I am her friend and was bored. That because she amused you better than any other mistress you have ever had, you sought to bring her back, but alas, you could not find her. Ho hum,mes amis! Soon, another delectable creature will come along to keep you happy, and in the meantime you must go into mourning for Claude-Marie. In a year you will seek a new wife,n’est-ce pas?”
“You make it sound all so inconsequential, Tony,” the duc grumbled as he downed his first goblet of wine and then held out the goblet for more.
“It is all inconsequential, Adrian,” Lord Varden replied, “and by your casual attitude you will make this seem nothing more than a trifle, an amusement. Remember, you have your children to think about, Adrian, particularly your two sons. You do want them to have the king’s favor, do you not? Think of them first and foremost. Not of yourself and your personal disappointment.” He refilled the duc’s goblet and beckoned Arabella, who seated herself at their table. “Why don’t you tell the duc the Duchesse de St. Astier’s history, Arabella?” Lord Varden suggested. “Before he is too drunk to absorb it all, for we are both going to get quite drunk tonight, Adrian, aren’t we? For old time’s sake, eh?”
A small smile touched the duc’s lips. “Oui, mon ami, we are going to get very drunk,” he agreed, and Arabella began her tale of Sorcha Morton.
When she had finished, the duc was already beginning to be in his cups, and at a little nod from Lord Varden, she arose and slipped from the room. In the night she heard them singing bawdy songs in the room below her chamber, and she giggled to herself in the darkness. Tony was going to have a terrible head in the morning, bless him.
Lona woke her before dawn. “His lordship says we’re to hurry, my lady. The tide turns in less than an hour.”
Arabella rose and began to quickly dress. “How is Lord Varden?” she inquired anxiously.
“Perky as a courting wren,” Lona replied.
“But how could he spend the night drinking with the duc and not be ill?” Arabella wondered aloud.
Lona chuckled. “I asked him the same thing, my lady, for I heard them singing too. Do you know what he told me? That after the first gobletful of wine, he kept refilling his cup with well-watered wine. He drank one goblet to the duc’s three. By the way, he and me da put the duc to bed in Lord Varden’s room. The innkeeper has instructions to treat the poor man with tender loving care when he awakens, for he’ll have a sore head to be sure. Lord Varden has paid the bill for all, including the duc’s men who are lodged in the stables with our own fellows.”
Arabella could not help but smile at Lona’s explanation. Tony really was a wonder, considering the circumstances. “Get me some bread and cheese,” she said to Lona, “and some fruit as well, and we’ll need some for the voyage too! I’m starving! It must be the sea air.”
They sailed from Calais before the sun had risen, and with the sun came a brisk breeze from the southeast that sent their ship scudding across the English Channel to land them at Dover before the sunset. Arabella wept unashamedly to be back in England, and even Lord Varden’s eyes were suspiciously moist with emotion, for he had not been in England in almost ten years.
“We’ll overnight in Dover,” Tony told her and sent his men to find a respectable inn for Arabella.
“And tomorrow?” she asked him.
“We’ll depart for Sheen, for the king will certainly be there and no other place at this time of year. He always spends Midsummer’s Eve at Sheen. At least he has in the years since he has been king.”
“Can we start early?” Arabella asked him.
“Before dawn, if you wish, my dear,” Lord Varden told her, and they did. He had already dispatched a rider ahead, that King Henry know of their coming and be prepared to see them. He could see that Arabella had but two thoughts in her head. To be reunited with her little daughter, and to return north to Greyfaire as quickly as possible. Anthony Varden could not blame her for wanting to put the past year behind her. He would have told her of the deep admiration he felt for her had he not been afraid of her scorn. She was, he believed, a very brave woman. Her bitterness was but a defense behind which she hid the heart she claimed to be missing.
They arrived at Sheen, putting up at a nearby inn and finding that one of the king’s servants was already awaiting them.
“His majesty will see you at ten o’clock tomorrow morning,” they were told. “His majesty wishes Lady Grey to know that her daughter is in excellent health and spirits, and most anxious to be reunited with her mother.” The king’s servant bowed, and without another word, departed.
