Bessie (19 page)

“Very good, my lady.”  Roberta dipped into a curtsy and her braid fell over her shoulder at the same time.

“Oh. Will you look there? I didn’t know she had red hair,” Regina commented.

~ ~ ~

“I hear you try to frighten my sisters with tales of court life.”

Bessie gasped as Devon spoke from behind her. She hadn’t seen him since yesterday evening. In the library. When he’d held her. Nor had he been noticeable just now in the dimness of the hall.
But she should have felt him!
The moment he spoke, every sense she owned came alive. Alert.

And supremely aware.

“I rather wonder how that suits your purpose,” he added.

“Word certainly travels quickly through this castle.”

Bessie took her time letting go of the door handle. She’d barely finished preparing for an appearance at the family sup. She needed a moment to modulate her breathing. Control her emotions. Gather her wits.

“We’re a close-knit family. And you’re avoiding answering. You are very adept at that.”

“I didn’t hear a question.”

“Oh. Interesting. Let me specify, then. I would like to know why you’d want my sisters afraid of their every gesture and word. It seems...short-sighted, at best.”

“I don’t want them afraid. I wanted them forewarned. Being at court can be a hazardous place for the innocent and unaware.”

“That wasn’t my experience.”

“That’s because you were Her Majesty’s favorite—oh! Wait a moment. You obviously should have been forewarned, as well.”

“What makes you say that?”

“There was a game played, Devon. You might not have seen it, or been aware at the time, but someone definitely played a game. On both of us.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Don’t be obtuse. Our marriage is the end result. And, as I recall, it wasn’t much to your liking at the time.”

“Oh. That.”

“Exactly.”

“Perhaps someone should have proposed a possible alliance between us earlier. Introduced us. Given me some advance warning. I might have kept my tongue and opinions of my first impressions to myself. You know, Bess? Call me difficult, but isn’t it enough that I must speak to your weeds?”

“What?”

“Could you turn about please? Or have I done something to merit the back of your head now?” 

She took a deep breath, and did as he asked.

The hallway outside her room was a wide span, but he made it small as he stepped into the torchlight. Bessie’s heart gave her trouble again. He didn’t look to have taken much time with his appearance. He was wearing brown leather riding trousers and a thigh-grazing tan jerkin. Rawhide strips had been laced at each shoulder, attaching sleeves that ended just below his elbow. From there he wore gloves that looked well-used. He hadn’t taken any effort with his hair. Or, he’d just arrived and hadn’t time yet. To comb it. Secure it in a queue.

Or, he’d had an assignation, and the woman had run her fingers through it.

Stop it, Bessie!

She looked at the floor. His thigh boots were caked with mud until well above the ankles. Well. If he was at an assignation, the wench needed better surroundings, Bessie thought snidely. She brought her gaze slowly back to his face. She nearly sighed aloud. It still amazed her how handsome he was, even dressed like one of the servants.

“I’ve just returned from hunting.”

“I...didn’t say anything.”

“You ran your eyes over me. I am guessing as to why.”

She gave an exclamation. Such arrogance!

“Are you saying I am wrong?”

“What do you want?”

Devon ignored her question. He pulled the glove from one hand before turning to his attention to the other. Not once did he relinquish his gaze from hers. Bessie watched him. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. But thanks to her veil, that was her secret.

“I think you owe me an explanation,” he said.

Bessie gulped. It was audible. And painful. But her voice didn’t betray any of it. “I’ve been rather busy lately, Devon. You’ll need to be more specific.”

“Your veils are in the way. Of everything. And you’re not a widow anymore.”

“I’m practicing.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Have I grown a third eye lately?”

“Not that I noted. Why do you ask?”

“You bar me from your bedroom, ignore me at meals, and find ceaseless things to keep from my side.”

“Your side has been conspicuously absent, Devon. Along with the rest of you.”

“Do you want to know where I’ve been?”

“Not...really.”

“Why are your hands clenching at your skirt, then?”

“You annoy me. Why else?”

He took a step toward her. The hallway shrank accordingly.

“Don’t do this,” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Whatever you’ve in mind.”

“You’d be surprised at what I’ve in mind, Bess.”

“I...don’t want to find out.”

“You’ll need to stay your reaction, then.”

He took two more steps. Bess backed into the wall. It hadn’t been smoothed here yet. Unrelenting stone pressed against her back in random places. She’d also put her hands up. That was a mistake. Devon’s jerkin might be leather, but it wasn’t very thick. Or new. She felt his heartbeat against her right palm. Each breath raised his chest, moving her hands up and back down.

“I tire of your game. I want you to know that.”

“What...game?”

“This one.”

She didn’t actually hear the answer. A rush of sound rose in her ears, dulling his words. He’d bent his head his head toward her, and that blocked it, too. She felt the words, though. And the slight touch of his breath against her upper chest. His lips touched her throat. Then her shoulder.

“Don’t play it over-long.”

The words accompanied a move of his lips, starting at her shoulder and sliding down the lace edge of her bodice. It had been cut low, barely covering nipples. And those bits were smashed against the material. Tight. And erect.

“You can only tempt a man so far. Your other husbands should have taught you that much.”

She couldn’t answer. He didn’t seem to expect one. He’d reached a bottom corner of her bodice and was moving along the top of a breast, sending shards of lightning through her flesh, raising goose bumps in its wake.

“You are very tempting. But I think you know that.”

She shook her head. He’d reached her cleavage and was running his tongue up from the spot. He didn’t stop until he reached the base of her chin.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t walk the halls by yourself.”

“I...didn’t know you were home.”

He chuckled. Bessie’s knees became the consistency of pudding. Her legs joined in. She tightened her thighs, and forced her legs to support her. Otherwise, she’d be in his arms again. And being there sounded like the best place she could imagine.

Oh.

What was she thinking?

She already knew that it was.

“You’ll not force me to wait much longer, will you?”

“I don’t know what...you mean.”

Devon lifted his head. She could only guess at his expression. It wasn’t due to the concealment of the veil. It was more the hall’s dimness, and the fact he blocked the available light.

“I don’t wish a kiss through veiling. I already tried it. I received a split lip for my trouble. But I just may get desperate enough.”

“Desperate?”

“A man kept at arm’s length is a desperate man. Add that to your dreams tonight.”

“I am not keeping you...anywhere.”

He looked down at her hands. Then, back to her. And then he smiled. And she should have been prepared for the lurch her entire frame made.

“A desperate man is also a dangerous one. I will not abide my wife receiving missives from other men. Remember that when you open your notes.”

“What...notes?”

“That Sir Gadfly writes you from Stansbury.”

“Sir Geoffrey,” she corrected him.

Devon pushed away from her and walked across the hall to lean against the opposite wall. It wasn’t a vast span. It felt like it. She felt the loss of warmth immediately. She also found it easier to breathe.

“The day I say his name correctly, is the day you need worry.”

“What does that mean?”

“I will not stand for another man writing my wife. Is it so difficult to understand?”

“I don’t see the problem, though. I receive missives from all my stewards. Daily.”

“What did his note say?”

“It’s about the upcoming festival...for introducing your siblings to eligible parties. Today he sent a listing of families who have accepted. Yesterday, he asked permission to purchase additional kegs of ale.”

“Is that all?”

“Read it yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Bessie was trembling. She couldn’t locate the note easily. It was supposed to be in a pocket of her skirt. She found it at the same moment he answered.

“How can I read it? I never learned how.”

“You. Never learned. To read?” 

She broke the question into three distinct parts. The last two words were at a much higher pitch than the previous ones.

“Why is that so surprising? I had a family to support, crops to plant and harvest. Meat to hunt. Wood to chop. I hadn’t much help, save James. He doesn’t have any book learning, either, if that is your next query.”

“You truly cannot read? Does that mean...you also can’t write?”  Hope colored the words. It sounded like light. Joy.

“I fail to see your merriment.”

He called it merriment? He was mistaken. Iced water had invaded her body, replacing the blood, and then it got overtaken by a surge of such heat, she almost fanned herself.
He couldn’t have written any notes! Not to Mirabelle Bryant or anyone else!

“You truly can’t read...or write?” she asked.

“How many times must you hear it?”

“You couldn’t have been sending and receiving notes about the palace.”

“None accused me of it.”

“Oh, Devon. Oh, my.” 

Bessie stepped away from the wall and entered the pool of torchlight. She felt raw. Open. Defenseless.

“Bess. Please. I daren’t assign meaning to anything. Not when dealing with you. I do not understand what has just happened. I cannot read or write. I never gave it much importance. And yet...? It sounds as if this is enough to get you to lift that accursed veil. Am I mistaken?” 

His voice was extremely low-toned, even for him. She couldn’t see his expression.

“It...might.”

She didn’t have to see his sigh. It was audible.

“You speak with such warmth, and then it becomes yet another tease. What new game is this?”

She was close to shoving the entire headdress-affair from her head. He’d passed every test, but the main one. Did she dare?

“I...have a servant,” she began. There was a tremulous quality to her voice. She should have waited. Or cleared her throat.

“You have many. Are we speaking of one in particular?”

“Yes. A redheaded woman. The one...from the joust.”

He groaned. It was followed by a long silence.

“You aren’t even going to answer?” she asked.

He stepped into the pool of torchlight with her. Close enough to touch. Far enough away that it mattered. The light wasn’t helping her. He was much taller, and the torch was behind him. All it did was carve a sinister shadow along one side of his face. Bessie shivered. She didn’t even know why.

“One day you may tire of this, Bess. And we can be truthful with one another. Enjoy your evening. As I shall endeavor to enjoy mine.”

And she almost asked him with whom.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Roberta, why haven’t we changed the latch on my shutters?”

“We have. I saw to it myself.”

“That is strange, then.”

“What is?”

“Look at them. One side is loose. Wasn’t that the problem with the last set?”

“You’d best keep your eye on that Will fellow. Looks like his handiwork. I’ll see to installing glass as soon as we’ve finished.”

“It isn’t Will. It couldn’t be. I sent him to Stansbury yesterday.” 

Bessie walked to her dressing table, ignoring Roberta’s effort to secure the window. It was a waste of time. One side was loose. She turned to her reflection. She was wearing a moss green dress today. Fashioned of taffeta with darker green velvet trim. It was very lovely. More expensive than required. But it helped her confidence, especially if she had another run-in with Uncle Francis. She was almost ready. She just needed to don her headdress, and tuck any loose hairs out of sight.

“What would you do that for?” the maid asked.

“He’s making certain of my instructions. I want this gala to be the most magnificent thing ever hosted. I want everything to be perfect.”

“Why didn’t you send me?” 

Though the mirror, Bessie followed Roberta’s progress across the floor. To the chamber door. As if she’d leave. Bessie’s heart hurt.

“You’d...leave me?”

“Heavens no. Never. I was just thinking how it would get me out of wearing this accursed thing.”

Roberta scratched at her scalp beneath the wig. Bessie smiled. Then, her face dropped as Roberta opened the door without any warning. Alicia rushed in.

“My lady, you must come immediately! I can’t thank you enough! I’ve never seen such tapestries, and they—”

Alicia’s words stopped the moment she saw Bessie. Roberta was smiling from beside the door as she shut it.

“Oh my goodness! You—! You’re her? You’re the redhead? You! Oh!”  Alicia squealed before continuing. “And Devon thinks—Oh! Oh! This is wonderful!”

Her maid frowned. “Wonderful? Are my ears deceiving me?”

“Stop your grousing, Roberta. You’re the one who let her in. You can’t bemoan it, now.”

“He searches for you...and you’re right here. Oh! This is like a—a fairytale! I still can’t believe it! Is your hair real?”  Alicia was at Bessie’s side before she’d finished.

“Much more so than mine at present,” Roberta answered.

“I truly am in shock. But thrilled at the same time. What a grand plot! This is so exciting! So, tell me. What is your next move?”

Bessie met Alicia’s gaze in the mirror. The girl did look shocked. And pleased. Her eyes were as wide as her mouth, and her hands were clasped at her breast.

“Grand plot? What nonsense! The gentry need more to do with their time. That’s the trouble. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.”

“You’re just put out because she’s on my side, Roberta. Admit it.”

“I must have let the wrong Hildebrand lass in. I was so certain, though.”

Bessie swiveled on her stool and looked up at her sister-in-law. “I didn’t plot anything. It just...happened. And now, everything is distorted and confusing. I don’t  know what to do now.”

“Just as I’ve been saying.”

“Roberta.”

“I’m sorry, my lady. Did my mouth slip and say something?”  The maid was humming as she fussed with the coverlet on Bessie’s bed.

“Oh! Devon is in so much trouble! This is priceless. Does Olivia know?”

“Not yet.”

“Will knows, I’ll bet.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“The way he acts. Like he knows everything. Worse, yet. It’s usually true. He does seem to know all the happenings of the house. I don’t know how he manages it.”

“Oh. I do,” Roberta interjected.

Bessie ignored the maid. “Will you keep my secret, Alicia?”

“Oh! My lips are sealed. I still can’t believe it. I can’t. But...you say you had no plot, so why did you do it in the first place?”

“Your brother...thinks me ugly.”

“He thinks you wondrously fair. I’ve heard him.”

“No. He thinks the redhead me is fair.”

“But, the redhead you is the real you.”

“But he doesn’t know that! As far as he’s concerned, I’m the woman whose presence he has to suffer because the queen wed him to me.”

“Oh! My oldest brother is in such a pickle.”  Alicia giggled. “That doesn’t happen oft to him...or he’s hidden it. He’s always been so confident. He’s not that much older than me. Or James. But we all obeyed whatever he said because he seemed so certain. This plot has a dark side, doesn’t it? What happens if he chooses her?”

“I’ll just have to live through it. I will still be his wife. True?”

“Will your heart survive?”

“My...heart?”

“Begging your pardon, Bess...and if you feel I am overstepping my place, please don’t hold it against me, but I would say you love him. It’s fairly obvious. Your voice softens when you speak of him and your face just now held such a dreamy look. If that’s what happens when he sees you as the redhead, no wonder he’s enamored.”

“I think I need a few days off, my lady. I am more confused than I was before, pardon the lack.”

“Sit down, Roberta. Maybe that will help.”  Bessie stood and gestured to her empty chair.

“Might I take this confounded thing from my head, too?” the maid asked.

“It’s not fair, you know,” Alicia interjected.

“I get quite enough of that from Roberta, here. She lectures me night and day over it. I am trying to be fair.”

“But, you’ve seen him.”

“True enough. I have. What of it?”

“Would you have loved him if you hadn’t seen him?”

“Ah ha!”

“Roberta. Please.”

“But she’s put correct words to what I’ve been saying for days.”

Bess sat on the edge of her bed. She looked at the headdress in her hands before setting it beside her. “I never thought of it that way before, Alicia.”

“Oh, my. My. I might have let the correct lass in, after all.”

“Can’t you let me stew in my own troubles for one moment?”

“Oh. Pardon, my lady. I’ll just sit here and pretend not to hear a thing. Or see. Or care. If that’s what you wish.”

“No. That’s not what I wish. Oh! How I wish I’d never started this. And then continued it. And now, I’m afraid it has gone too far.”

“How so?” Alicia asked.

“He appears to favor both of us. What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Oh! Poor Devon!”  Alicia giggled. “He never seemed to have women troubles before. This is priceless. I don’t suppose you’d allow me to embroider it into a tapestry, will you?”

“You sew?”

“Not very well in comparison to the examples that have just arrived, but I do try. Actually, I shouldn’t have said anything. You’ll think it a poor effort.”

“I doubt that. I’ll probably find it a grand one.”

“I’m not near as perfect. That’s why I rushed here. I was so impressed. Your stitches are exquisite. Will you show me how to do them?”

“I had plenty of time for practice. That’s the trick to anything, I think.” 

Bessie picked up the headdress, shook it out before donning it, tucking any stray hairs beneath the material folds. And then she pulled down the front for a veil.

It was starting to feel normal.

~ ~ ~

“There’s something strange going on. I just can’t seem to figure what it is.”

James spoke from his position beside Devon. As Bessie was at the opposite end of the table, she shouldn’t have heard it as easily as she did. She took a sip of her broth as Devon answered finally.

“What do you mean, strange?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d know.”

“Why would I know? I’ve not been around, either. Ask one of your sisters.”

“I know what it is!”  Lizzy crowed from a spot down the middle of the table. “Everybody’s got red hair anymore.”

“That’s it! And not one of them is comely. I’ve never seen such lust-crushing women in my life. Especially the portly one that greeted me this morn. Why did you hire so many of them, Devon?”

Bessie fought the chortle over James’ description of Augusta.

“Ask my wife. Even a witless sort can see her hand in it. Well, Bess?”

“I haven’t the smallest idea to what you refer.”

“Why did you suddenly decide to hire every wench with red hair in the country? And how was such a thing possible?”

“You must be mistaken. I put out no such order. What makes you think my hand is in such a thing?”

“Because they all have red hair, they’re servant wenches, and you’re hiring the help. Need I add to that?”

Alicia stifled a giggle by covering her mouth with a linen napkin. Bess knew exactly what it was. To both brothers, it probably sounded like she was choking.

“Are you all right, Alicia?” 

She answered Devon by nodding her head.

“I am still waiting for an answer, Bessie? Or need I specify the question further?”

“Well. You show a certain penchant for serving wenches with red hair. I was simply making certain you had plenty of them. Was I mistaken?”

“But, these are all ugly!” 

“Not all of them, James. Surely. It would have been too much to expect my wife to procure that, although she probably tried.”

“What happened to the pretty one, then?”

“I’d rather know what happened to Will,” Devon answered.

“Will? Is he missing, too?”

“You’re an observant sort, James. I look forward to finding the perfect wife for you, I do,” Bess said sweetly.

“I’d rather have Devon pick her out, I think. You’d pick me an ugly one.”

“It would be my fondest wish, yes.”

“Like Devon got stuck with?” James continued.

There was an audible gasp about the table. Bessie waited for a moment before answering.

“You should be as lucky,” she replied.

“If that’s luck, he needs a change of it.”

“That’s enough, James.”

“But, Devon—!”

“Enough.”

James sent one more glare her way before turning back to his meal. Devon regarded her without any expression from his end of the table.

“So, tell me. Where has Will gone to? I’ve not seen him about for more than a day. He always was a shady sort, but he’d never miss a meal. Has anyone seen him?”

“I sent him to Stansbury.”

“What the devil for? They’ll not welcome him, there!”  Francis blustered and slapped down his spoon.

“Calm yourself, Uncle Francis. If he wasn’t going to be safe, I wouldn’t have sent him.”

“You see what I have to put up with each and every day, Devon? I’m at my wit’s end dealing with your wife. The least you can do is stay and handle her.”

“What has she done?”

“She’s got Henry building floors and drawing up plans, Byron up to his elbows in books, Will is at the enemy’s camp, the girls are trotting about to what she calls music, and God knows what else.”

“Sounds terrible. No wonder you’re up in arms. I’d suggest you move to the North wing. I understand it’s near livable, again.”

“Well! I don’t have to stay and listen to this!”

“I will have your supper warmed over for you, then.”

Uncle Francis had shoved his chair out and glared from Devon to her. Bessie was too surprised to say anything. She hadn’t had to fight for herself and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. She’d been defended twice by Devon in less time than it took to finish one bowl of soup. It was an exhilarating feeling.

Uncle Francis’s belly won out. Bessie wasn’t the only one watching as he sat back down and began eating again.

“You see? I told you my brother, Devon was wonderful,” Lizzy said.

~ ~ ~

Bessie started up from her pillows in fear and clasped the blanket to her chin. It took a few moments to calm her heartbeat. Something had startled her awake. She rubbed at her cheek with a hand that trembled.

She wasn’t the bravest sort, but she had to find out what it was. It could be a rat, and there was nothing worse. She’d never be able to sleep with rats about. Bessie fumbled across the top of her covers for her dressing gown. Her hands stilled in worry as she came across a warm indentation near the side. She kept her hands there for the longest time as it cooled.

She couldn’t have made it. She always slept in one position. In the exact center of her mattress. She rarely moved.

Perhaps, it was a cat. Hilde Castle had several of them. That would explain the brush against her face and the warm spot on her bed. It was better than envisioning rats, too.

Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark. She could make out lumps of furniture about. She could also see her shutter was ajar, again. Bess forgot all about the dressing gown. She’d fastened those shutters herself, and no cats climbed through windows four stories from the ground.