Lady Trent (34 page)

“I wonder if he strayed from his other
wives.”

“From the second? Not that I know of—only
after her death. Now the first, if those with loose tongues are
truthful, was a different story. He bedded many, so I have heard.
But he was young, still. Since you came into the Great City…well,
there have been no others. Otherwise I would certainly have
heard.”

“What sort did he choose?” She came to
ask.

“During events in the Great Hall they are
quite simple to locate.”

“I have noticed those who prance and attempt
to lure him vary a great deal in appearance if nothing else.”

“They are all the same in this: that he did
not care about them…not in the slightest. Women to be used as they
had been used before, acquainted with the ways of lovemaking. I
imagine he has taken great delight in guiding you in the way of
passion.”

Thinking of the truth to the statement, she
smiled with satisfaction.

Zaria laughed very quietly. “You should know
by now, milady, that he desires no woman but you, and will have no
other. I do believe not only I but every other in the realm and
beyond by now certainly know he is not an available man…not at
all.”

A space of silence fell. She found herself
considering Marcus who had returned a few days before, and who had
avoided her, it seemed, on purpose. In fact, she rarely saw him at
all. She recalled the magnetism between him and this maiden, Zaria
who was attractive in her own right, and had expressed some
intimate interest in Marcus. Before she could even bite her tongue,
she said, “Sir Marcus is to be wed. Had you heard?”

“If there’s any news to be spread, milady,
trust me…I will hear of it. If not on my own, well, Percival and I
do get along. But yes I know. I heard it from Sir Marcus,
himself.”

“Oh?” Her gaze went to the ceiling while the
maiden’s hands continued to fasten the back of her gown. “Then you
finally made it into his bed,” she guessed.

“Twas not such a difficult task, milady. I
seduced him—not that he wasn’t seducing me all along as well with
those handsome, seductive eyes of his. He is a very gifted lover, I
must say. He does know how to please a woman.”

Rachel tried not to suck in the deep breath
of air her lungs instantly seemed to require, and she tried to get
the visual out of her mind, for it disturbed her. Everything about
the man always did. But this was by far the most disturbing thought
of all.

“He said little about this woman. I do not
think he loves her. But his land, now this he loves, and his dream
of building his own realm, so to speak. The emperor would let him
do as he chooses. If he rules as well as he makes love, I imagine
he will become the greatest noble in all New Ebony after the
passing of Lord Trent. Not to mention it, milady. I imagine many
years lie ahead of him. Who knows? He may be the very one to
outlive them all. Nonetheless, I requested a place in this manor
house of his. He seemed delighted by the idea, and agreed to
it.”

“Then you will leave here?”

“There is still a matter of time, milady. And
yes, I will miss you as well.”

She stared out into nowhere before saying,
“Then you and he shall be lovers.”

“Until he tires of me,” she shrugged, “which
will certainly happen with time. Yes, there will be much
opportunity for him to stray, I imagine, just as with any noble,
especially one so, um, well, hmm, how does one truly describe
Marcus Wren. He is dashing by nature. But I am not one to compete
for the sake of a man’s affections. When it ends, it shall
end.”

“But he will be married. Zaria, surely you
would not resume an affair with a married man. It would not be fair
to her.”

“Some ladies are thankful as they do not wish
to be troubled by their husband’s demands.” She shrugged. “They
welcome such companionship. Not in the open, mind you, they simply
turn another direction and act to pay no mind. Then again, this
lady, she may prove herself desirable, capable of pleasing him. She
is likely a virgin. Perhaps she will become a good lover. Perhaps
he will eventually fall in love with her. For the sake of them
both, I hope it.”

“
Then
where will you go?”

“I have not thought so far ahead.”

“You speak as if there’s no meaning to your
life at all, Zaria”

“I am a drifter, milady. I do not stay in one
place any longer than three years. Only this time because of you.
You interested me so that I stayed when I had considered taking
myself elsewhere.”

“I am glad you stayed,” she found herself
saying. “You have been a great help. I would much rather you stay
and not go. But if you ever find yourself in need of a place...you
must come back.”

“Tis still a while longer till he weds. You
will adapt. Another will take my place—they always do. Just as
another will take Marcus’s place. Lord Trent will adapt—
he
always does.”

There was that word again. Adapt. She
silently disagreed. Marcus was too much one of a kind. She was
certain there was nobody else like him in the entire world.

Zaria urged her to turn and look at her.
“People have their importance, milady, but when all is said and
done, we disappear, we die, we flee, and those we leave for
whatever cause, they adjust and continue on until it is their time
to disappear, to die, to flee. Tis a cycle we all live by. Tis
life. As with you coming here, as with others all over the
world…they adapt. They always do.”

That night, while the dubbing ceremony was
conducted, she found herself searching the room with her eyes for
Marcus Wren, but did not see him…then she searched for Zaria, and
exhaled a breath of relief when she spotted her. Better to see her
in person than to imagine her alone with Marcus. At least in such a
way as she’d admitted to having him.

How horrible of her to even think of it.

And later on, how horrible of her to think of
him while her husband made love to her.

******

The following days went well. Jacob attended
many meetings with the Higher Nobles in close range of the Great
City. Still, there had been rumors of the king of Roark starting a
war. The nobles were being safe opposed to sorry; concocting plans
to retaliate if need be by joining their forces together, arranging
to have their armies prepared in the case of a potential war. But
this talk of battle did not mean life could not go on.

Rachel hired an expert painter to make
portraits of herself to hang about the palace. She and Jacob even
posed together for one of these. Franklyn De’Juan occupied the
palace for an entire month, time well spent as he collected a
generous wage for creating these likenesses. His work was
exceptional.

She also updated the furnishings in her
chambers, not that they were terribly outdated…she’d simply
discovered a fondness for the most recent decorations, ones rumored
to be very popular amongst the Noble Class.

She also embarked upon planning an event of
her own for other ladies such as herself; to bring attention to the
impoverished of not only those of Orland, but in all of New Ebony.
It was an issue she felt inclined to do something about. She felt
she could certainly win over the hearts of some of the other
ladies, those who had manors of their own but doubtfully
acknowledged the need.

She imagined her invitations would be
accepted. She had, after all, received dozens and dozens from these
same ladies, although kindly declining them but with reasonable
cause. Surely they would be pleased to receive one from her in
regards to any matter at all. Then again it dawned on her that they
may have possibly tired of her rejections—which is what the
declines may have appeared to
bluntly
be.

Nonetheless, she was willing to take the
risk. Whether one or all…no matter how many accepted the
invitation, it would benefit someone somewhere in some way.

She was in the solar sifting thru invitation
cards, humming quietly to herself as she did so, when a voice
interrupted her.

“Milady,” she heard the nonchalant greeting,
and turned so as to see Marcus leaning in the doorway, hands in
pockets. One could only wonder how long he’d been standing
there.

She would have expected Tilly or Zaria or
Percival, maybe a guard or squire or her husband upon returning.
Not Marcus. He’d avoided her for a long while now. Perhaps he’d
seized this occasion to speak to her as she was alone and the door
without guard at the time. But there was sure to be one down the
hall a pace.

She redirected her attention to the cards in
her hands, inhaling a slow, deep breath. Her heart skipped a beat,
palpitated, and then began beating faster than normal.

“Sir Marcus,” she casually returned and then
without thinking added, “You finally choose to speak to me?”

“I did not expect you would want me to.”

“Your purposely avoiding me makes me uneasy,
as if people may think something is being hidden.”

“I doubt they pay it any mind.”

Her hands moved a bit quicker as she shuffled
through the cards. “I have heard you set a new date for your
wedding,” she said as simply as possible.

“Yes,” he agreed and came inside. “I
postponed it for the end of Fall opposed to the beginning. The
seers are predicting harsh weather. I didn’t want to risk it.”

“Seers,” she mocked. “I wouldn’t have thought
you the sort of man to rely upon their predictions.”

“On most occasions they have been
correct.”

“They are malevolent and should not be
condoned in any way.” She shuffled thru the cards feeling the peer
of his stare upon her back.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Planning an event.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Just to bring attention to the impoverished.
I imagine other noble ladies would join me in the cause. I must
only bring it to their attention. I am planning an event for those
I feel would take part in assisting the poor with their donations.
Not just here but—“

“—it’s over, isn’t it?”

Her hands instantly went still, but for a
very short time. She proceeded to sift thru the cards, now much
slower than before. She placed a few of them to the right, most to
the left, depending upon whom she would or would not invite.
“What’s over?” She quietly asked.

“I notice yet another change in you.”

“You are imagining things…there is no
‘change’.”

“…change that is usually only brought about
in a woman after she has given up her virtue.”

“As usual, you are out of line.”

“He walks about whistling. You walk about
humming. The two of you behave as if you were just recently
wed.”

She said nothing at all.

“Well?” He urged.

Still she said nothing.

“Would you answer?” It was a calm
request.

“I cannot see where you have any right to
make such a demand. This is not your business, Sir Marcus.”

“You are correct, milady, in saying so. But
as I said before, I am a very curious man, especially when it comes
to you.”

“Am I to be reprimanded for sharing my
husband’s bed?

She heard the slow sound of his boots taking
him to the cabinet where a generous assortment of wine and goblets
were set out for the taking. He proceeded to fill a glass. “No,” he
afterward said, and stood with his back to her, emptying his glass.
He refilled it and she watched while he looked up toward the
ceiling and spoke as if to God. “Why?” He asked. “Why am I
disappointed? Why?”

“I, too, would like an explanation although
it’s really quite plain. As if you were awaiting his death,
thinking you may be the one to lie with me for the first time.
While you frolic with maidens at random you expect me to be
virtuous and deny my own husband.”

“Then you have taken thought for my love
life.”

“Love life,” she mocked. “Is that what it is
now referred to? As a love life?

She turned about and could feel him getting
closer and closer to her. “Of course I knew this day would come,”
he commented. “I even predicted it. Before he draws his final
breath,” he recalled—a portion of what he had, indeed,
predicted.

“It should not have been predicted at all,
neither meditated upon nor anticipated nor dreaded. He is my
husband, and I did what is even my duty to do.”

“He did not pressure you, Rachel, I know
this.” He turned, glass in hand, a gleam of distress in the pupils
of his eyes.

“He would not pressure me into doing anything
nor would he disrespect me as you continually do, speaking to me as
if I were a-a-a harlot or a whore.” She quickly turned away,
calming herself and preparing her voice to be calmer before
continuing. “Why are we even discussing this? I love him, Marcus,
and I wanted to do this. I am glad I did. Now I can have some peace
of mind and . . . “

“And what? Forget me?” He came to stand
directly across from her. With each step, the air became harder and
harder to breathe. He stopped, staring her deeply in the eye. “Look
me in the eye and tell me you have not thought of me.”

She did look him in the eye, searching them
for a short time. She shook her head. “I have not.”

“This lifestyle has now made you quite the
little liar.”

“You must think very highly of yourself, Sir
Marcus, to suggest such a thing.”

“Do you think I was jesting when I said I
could see through you?”

“You can see nothing.”

“What I do see is a woman who is too proud
and pious to admit her own shortcomings. I can face mine. You, on
the other hand, cannot.”

“You think you are so wise,” she began with
slanted eyes, her teeth nearly ground together. “When you know
absolutely nothing about me.”

“I know you have become quite skilled at
deceiving even your own self. I imagine you have always been.”