“Aye, I loved Anne,” he told Luciana. “She was everything you are not. She was beautiful, and Cicely is her image. She was kind and generous. She was genuinely devout. We were blood kin, madam, but not so close that a marriage between us was forbidden. Old families like mine frequently parcel out the responsibilities of their estates tokin, because in most instances blood will not betray you. Your interests are their interests, madam. Whether your estate is large or small, such loyalty is important.
“I might have wed the daughter of another noble, but an honorable family like mine was left with little dower. However, I fell in love with Anne, and we planned to wed. The banns had already been posted when her father was killed in an accident. She was his only child, and his own wife, her mother, had died when Anne was ten. The shock of her father’s death caused my beloved to go into an early labor. She lived long enough to push our daughter from her body, and then with a great sigh she died.
“I was content to remain unmarried, but Cicely needed a mother to teach her the things a girl of her rank should know, and I needed a legitimate son. And then your father learned I sought a wife. As your behavior in Firenze had made you unmarriageable, he had to seek a husband for you here in England. I was poor, but I could give you a title. You could bring me a fat dower, and give me sons. It was an ideal match, Luciana. I swore to your father that I would honor you and respect you. I have done these things. I have treated you well. You, however, have not kept your part of our bargain.”
“I gave you wealth!” she cried. “I have advised you in which trading ventures to invest in, and you have become rich in the process. I have given you three sons! I am faithful to you. What more could you want?”
“I wanted a mother for my daughter,” he said.
“I told you before the wedding contracts were even signed that I would not raise that child,” Luciana said. “You agreed!”
“I believed that once you felt secure, once you had given me a son, that you would no longer feel the need to reject Cicely,” the earl replied. “What kind of woman are you that you could hate an innocent little girl so greatly? What could she have possibly done to you before you even met her that you hate her?”
“You love her! You love her as you loved her mother! Butyou have never loved me, Robert, have you?” the countess said bitterly.
“How many marriages are made for love, Luciana?” he asked quietly. “Certainly not among our kind, nor even among the poor. Marriages are made to gain certain advantages. Among the peasantry they are made for children to help in the fields. And among the nobility they are made for land, for wealth, for a higher position on the social scale. You are my wife. I have a fondness for you. I am grateful to you for the sons you have given me, for the wealth you brought me, for the knowledge you have given me that has aided me in acquiring more riches. You have my respect in all but one matter, and that is your inability to accept my daughter. For you and for your peace of mind I have agreed to foster Cicely out, but I will not send her from this house, from her home, without all she needs to survive, to succeed in the world beyond Leighton Hall. But even now, gaining your own way, you cannot be generous to my daughter, which is why I will have the keys from my storerooms from you.” He held out his hand to her. “Give them to me now, madam!”
Luciana stood up. Her look was murderous, but she unfastened the chatelaine’s keys from her satin girdle and flung them at him. “Here, and be damned to you, Robert! But why the wench needs a fine wardrobe in the house of a widow, I do not know.”
He knew he was being foolish, but she had angered him so greatly he needed to strike back at her. He knew there would be more difficulties with Luciana over it, but he couldn’t help himself. “She does if the widow is the king’s beloved stepmother,” the Earl of Leighton said with a wicked smile.
“Your daughter is going to live in Queen Joan’s household? The queen is fostering her?” The Countess of Leighton was astounded. “How did you manage to arrange such a thing, Robert?” There was new respect for him in her voice, and she was already considering the possibilities for their sons.
“It was pure luck, Luciana,” he told her, “but if Cicely does wellshe will be able to ease the way to introduce our sons into the court one day.”
“Yes,” his wife replied slowly, “perhaps the brat will prove useful after all. And I will not have to see her ever again.”
“Nay, you will not,” Robert Bowen agreed.
“Take whatever you desire from the storerooms,” the countess told her husband graciously, although in truth it was all his to take. “The wench should not disgrace Leighton. Has she manners? Is she educated at all or will she be an embarrassment, my lord? She must not be forward in any way.”
“My daughter has manners, and enough learning to please the queen,” he said, amused by this sudden shift in her attitude.
“Even if she proves of value to us I will always hate her because you love her,” Luciana told him bluntly.
“I love our sons too, madam, and I was never aware that you sought my love. Have I not been a good husband to you? A competent lover?” he demanded.
“I thought it would be enough,” Luciana answered him slowly, “but I find it is not enough for me now. I suppose it is my warm nature that makes it so.”
“I am sorry then that I must disappoint you,” the earl told his wife. “But we need not be enemies, madam.” Nay, they would not be enemies, yet he could never forgive her for the cruel way she had treated his daughter, would continue to treat Cicely. With a polite bow he turned and left her.
“Does he hate me?” the countess asked Donna Clara.
“Nay,” the older woman replied. “But had you made the slightest effort towards little Lady Cicely, had you shown her even a modicum of kindness, my lady, you might have gained his love. The love he had for his daughter’s mother was one born of familiarity, longevity, and kinship. They had much in common because they were raised together. Do you not recall your brother Gio’s first love was your cousin Theresa?”
“He outgrew her,” Luciana said.
Donna Clara shook her head in the negative. “Nay, he did not. He would have willingly wed her had your father and hers allowed it. But they would not because each family needed a wealthier mate for their child. Your husband was not as practical a man. He was ready to wed his lover. Only her death prevented it, and then he did what he should have done in the first place: He sought an heiress bride. He might have given you his love had you accepted his daughter. I warned you, my lady, after little Carlo was born, to relent and bring Lady Cicely into the house, but you would not. Now the earl’s patience is at an end. ’Tis you who have driven him to it.”
“I do not care,” Luciana said irritably. “I do not need his love. I am his wife. I am the Countess of Leighton.” Then a calculating light came into her eyes. “I shall give him a daughter too! When he has another daughter, Donna Clara, he will not think so much on this one. And she will be gone from Leighton.”
Donna Clara did not argue with her mistress. She doubted another daughter would change the earl’s attitude towards his wife. Oh, he would love the child, for he was a good man, but he would not love her mistress. “You are worn with birthing your three sons in so short a time,cara,” the older woman said. “You must rebuild your strength, for if you are to have a daughter you will want her to be strong and healthy, as your sons are.”
The countess nodded. “Aye, I do want a healthy daughter. You must continue to give me that strengthening drink you prepare each day for me.”
“I will, my lady. You may be sure that I will,” Donna Clara promised her mistress. And as long as Luciana drank the potion there would be no more children, but of course the Countess of Leighton did not know it. And if her mistress convinced her husband to have another child Donna Clara would cease adding her special ingredient to the mixture. She was relieved that the earl had taken her advice and wasfostering his daughter out, for her mistress, she firmly believed, would not have let the matter go.
On the following morning Orva came early to the hall and sought out Bingham, the steward. Bingham was filled with gossip. “The earl fought so loudly withheryesterday that you could have heard them in the next village,” the steward informed Orva. “It was about our little lady.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a ring of keys. “These are for you. What’s going on?”
