Mary Gillgannon (34 page)

Marguerite’s eyes narrowed, and her lips curled mockingly. “A lover! Astra, I am scandalized! Richard has truly corrupted you.”

“But you said yourself...” Astra hesitated, confused by her friend’s scornful words. “You have always told me that most marriages are little more than business arrangements, and most wives sought out lovers to satisfy their other needs. I thought that you... that you might seek such an arrangement yourself.”

“Perhaps I would have,” Marguerite answered coldly. “But now I have no choice. In truth, it is not so much Will I object to as his reckless meddling in my life. How would you like to have your fate decided by others? To have the reins of your future rudely stripped from your hands? Now I know how Richard felt when you so callously tricked him into wedding you.”

Astra gasped. “It was
you
who urged me to entrap Richard. In fact, you well nigh insisted upon it!”

“Perhaps I suggested the ploy, but you were the one who enticed him in the chapel. And now you’ve had a hand in plotting my marriage as well. It is conceit, Astra, wicked conceit, to think you have the right to rule others’ lives.”

Astra gaped at her friend. It was obvious Marguerite was beside herself. She was not thinking clearly at all. “I beg your pardon for my meddling,” she said in a quiet voice. “If you will excuse me, I’d like to lie down. I have a terrible headache.”

Marguerite gave her a cold, disdainful look and then stalked out of the room.

“R
ichard’s gone!” Will burst into the bedchamber as soon as Astra opened the door. “I’ve looked everywhere, and I can’t find him. Worse yet, his squire, his weapons and horses have also disappeared!”

Astra backed toward the bed and sank down on it, a sick, cold dread washing over her. She’d known something was amiss but refused to face it. Now she could no longer deny the truth. Richard had left her. His extravagant lovemaking had been his way of saying goodbye.

“I can’t imagine where he has gone, or why,” Will continued. “I was so hopeful he had finally resolved his conflicts, that he was at last willing to accept your love for him.” He approached Astra, his eyes full of tender concern. “To leave you like this—it is madness. He is throwing away happiness by the fistful.”

“Perhaps that is what Richard wishes. Mayhaps he cannot allow himself to be happy, nor to be loved.”

Will’s eyes widened. “What do you know of it, Astra? Did you expect him to leave you?”

She sighed. “I have known, aye, that there was something wrong. Richard has been most attentive and loving the last few days, but I could sense great turmoil in his heart.”

“Oh, Astra, I am sorry.” Will sank down beside her on the bed. “I never guessed he would leave you. Do you do you want me to go after him?”

Astra shook her head. “Your wedding with Marguerite is supposed to take place in a few days, and I don’t want you postpone it. Besides, if Richard has fixed his mind on this, you will not be able to sway him from his course.”

“But, my lady, what will you do?”

Astra clenched her hands together. What, indeed, was she going to do? Her husband had abandoned her, and there was no assurance he would ever return. The cold horror of it clutched at her heart. “I will pray, Will,” she said softly.

Will nodded, then turned and left the room.

* * *

Wearily, Richard wiped the sweat from his brow. They would never make it to the English port of Dover today. His voyage across the channel would have to wait. He glanced behind where his squire, Nicholas, struggled with the mare. She was an obstinate animal, for all her delicate beauty, and she did not like the way Nicholas sat her. She had been prancing and tossing her head since they set out. Richard considered trading horses with his squire, but that would only exchange one discomfort for another. The huge destrier was not meant for ordinary travel. Sultan had a plodding, bone-jarring gait that was surely worse than the mare’s balky ride.

He leaned forward to idly pat the horse’s sweaty neck. If he were reasonable, he would sell both animals and purchase new ones in France. But he knew he would not be able to bring himself to do it. Sultan had served him well in too many battles to abandon him now, and the mare, Kismet, was a prize not to be forsaken. Few nobles, no matter their title or wealth, could boast of owning such an animal. Kismet was a mount fit for a prince. He would not give her up.

He shifted restlessly on the destrier’s broad back, trying to find a comfortable position. The heavily loaded saddlebags crowded his legs. He could have brought a sumpter pony to carry his possessions, but that would have slowed them down. He had taken only what he needed to barter for supplies until Gascony, and he had enough to buy food until he reached Paris. Hopefully, he would be hired on long before then. He had heard the French countryside was preyed upon by bands of ruffians, and he did not like the thought of traveling alone with Nicholas, the two of them guarding his dwindling store of booty.

The rest of his treasure he had left with Will’s squire, with the direction that it should go to Astra. He could not help worrying what would happen to her. He had no doubt the King and Queen would help her, but an annulment took time. Even then she would need gowns and jewels if she was to find another husband. He winced, thinking of the message he had left her. The knight who wrote it for him was not the most learned sort, but he had agreed to keep it secret until Richard was well on his way. That was important. Richard did not want to risk Will coming after him until he was across the channel and it was too late to turn back.

Still, it was worrisome. The message did not adequately convey what he felt. How could he convince Astra that she was better off without him? That he left her not because his love was lacking, but because he loved her too much? He sighed and rubbed his chest, as if that would ease the dull ache lingering there. He had not known it would hurt so much. He was doing what was best for Astra, but it seemed to be wrenching his heart out. He was not yet three days from London and already he was starved for the sight of her.

He dare not think about Astra, he admonished himself. If he drove himself to exhaustion, plunged himself into the raw, immediate battle for survival, he could trick his mind into forgetting about her. Then, eventually, the pain would ease. Someday Astra would be only a beautiful memory, an enchanted fantasy he could seek out when his spirit needed soothing. For now she was a torment, an ache that gnawed his heart.

He turned and shouted over his shoulder, “Nicholas—I see an inn up ahead. We’ll stop there tonight.”

* * *

The banquet hall was abuzz. Those who weren’t whispering over the sudden announcement that Marguerite Fitz Hugh and Will de Lacy were to be wed were gossiping about the even more shocking news that Richard Reivers had disappeared, leaving behind his wife of less than a fortnight.

Astra sat stiffly beside the Queen, who had rallied to Astra’s side as soon as the news reached her. In truth, Astra was too miserable to care about the whispers swirling around the room. Her worst fears had been confirmed. Will had questioned the other knights and finally found a man who admitted he had inscribed a message from Richard to his wife. The message was not to be delivered to Astra until two days hence, but Will had convinced the man, by rather brutal means, that she should have it immediately.

Even now Astra’s fingers clutched blindly at her skirts, as if they still held the precious parchment that sealed her fate. The note had been terse, but pointed. Richard had left her, and he had no intention of returning. He wanted her to seek an annulment, to forget she had ever known him. He wanted her to marry another man and begin her life anew. He loved her, but he could never bring her the happiness she deserved. It would be best for everyone if she forgot they had ever met.

Astra leaned over her heaping trencher, the tears threatening again. Hours had passed, but still the awful words retained their ability to reduce her to despair. Forget him? How could she? Richard had filled her heart and soul to bursting. Without him she was naught but a ruined, empty shell.

“Astra, my dear, if you wish to leave,” the Queen murmured. “Perhaps seek the privacy of the bedchamber...”

Astra shook her head. She would not hide away and act like a grieving, abandoned wife. To do so would imply she had lost hope, that she did not believe her husband would return. Besides, she owed it to Marguerite to attend the banquet honoring her betrothal. For all that her friend had not spoken to her since their angry encounter earlier and even now regarded her with cold, hostile eyes, Astra would not dream of leaving the banquet. Will needed her. He seemed nervous, almost bewildered, and Astra knew his mind was on Richard as well as his worries that Marguerite would not forgive him for his machinations with her father.

Astra took a deep breath, and forced herself to down a bite of her food. They would endure, she told herself silently. They would all endure.

The meal was almost over. Soon she would be able to leave the hall and lie down, she thought with relief. There was a tap on her shoulder. She looked up in surprise to see Lord Fitz Hugh regarding her with a kindly smile.

“Dear Lady Astra, how are you faring in all of this?”

“I... I am as well as can be expected, my lord.”

He patted her shoulder soothingly. “My new son-by-marriage assures me your husband will come back. That he loves you too much to stay away.”

“I must believe it is true.”

When Lord Fitz Hugh did not leave, Astra rose to face him. “Are you troubled by something, my lord?”

Lord Fitz Hugh nodded and led her away from the King’s table. He paused when they reached a quiet corner between the tables and the braziers brought in to heat the chilly hall,

“What think you, Lady Astra, of my daughter’s wedding plans?”

“Will is a fine man. I’m sure she will be happy.”

Fitz Hugh’s broad forehead wrinkled. “It is strange. I have heard rumors about de Lacy....” He averted his eyes from Astra. “They say the man is afflicted, that because of some impairment he can never marry or father children. For all that Will claims the child Marguerite carries is his, I do not believe him.” Fitz Hugh’s dark eyes probed Astra’s face. “You are Marguerite’s closest friend. I’m sure you know the truth of it. Do you know who begat the babe?”

Astra’s throat felt dry, her tongue suddenly too big for her mouth. Sweet Jesu, what was she to say? She knew Will wished her to lie and say the child was his, while Marguerite... what did Marguerite want? She licked her lips and faced the older man steadily.

“The truth, my lord... The truth is that Will will love the child and care for it as no other man can. He will also cherish Marguerite and seek to make her happy. I ask you, Lord Fitz Hugh, what more could you wish for your daughter and your grandchild?”

Fitz Hugh stared at her a moment and then nodded briskly. “You are very wise, Lady Astra. It was foolish of me to listen to gossip. The babe is de Lacy’s. There is no doubt of it.”

He turned to leave her, then stopped and slapped his forehead.

“Hellfire! I near forgot—the manor!” He grabbed her hand and began to drag her toward the King. “It’s all been arranged, the papers were drawn up by Henry’s clerks yesterday. I’m giving you Riversmere as a wedding present. We merely need the King’s blessing and the matter will be settled.”

“Your Grace.” Lord Fitz Hugh bowed before the King. Astra curtsied beside him.

The King nodded. Fitz Hugh straightened and spoke. “Lady Astra has been like a daughter to me, Your Highness, and I could not let her marriage to Sir Richard go unremarked. I am giving her Riversmere, one of my manors near Wallingford along the Thames. The grant will be held in her name, but I will expect Reivers to see to its defense.”

King Henry’s right eye drooped deeply, giving him the look of a sleepy feline. “What if Sir Richard doesn’t return? What if he is gone for good?”

“Of course he will return,” Fitz Hugh asserted loudly. “He loves Lady Astra, and he will do his duty by her, I can assure you of that. If all else fails, I will track him down and drag him back to England myself!”

Henry nodded. Astra expected the King to dismiss her. Instead, he reached out and took her hand. “And you, Lady Astra, do you expect your husband to return?”

Astra met the King’s eyes and opened her mouth to assure Henry that Richard would indeed be back. A harsh laugh sounded in her ear before she could speak.

“Reivers is a faithless bastard. He’ll never return. The lady is well rid of him... as you are as well, my liege.”

The King released her hand, and Astra turned to see Guy Faucomberg standing next to Lord Fitz Hugh, smiling mockingly. Astra’s dislike of the man abruptly congealed to hatred, and she searched her mind for a properly cutting remark. The King’s voice rang out before she could respond.

“Once again, Rathstowe, you meddle where your opinion is unwished for. To attack a man behind his back is low and cowardly. To do so before his wife is an even greater affront. I will not have you speak so before Lady Astra.”

Faucomberg flushed, and his green eyes glittered all the brighter in his florid face. “My words are true, Your Grace. I’m doing a kindness in informing Lady Astra of her misplaced loyalty.”

“I find it hard to believe you are truly concerned for my welfare,” Astra said coldly.

“Of course I am.” Faucomberg’s thick fingers reached out and grasped her hand. “I thought it a pity when you wed the man. Your beauty is utterly wasted on such a vulgar lecher.” He raised Astra’s fingers to his fleshy lips. “I had considered offering for you myself. Then I found out your exquisite charms had been besmirched by Reivers’s crude lust.” He released Astra’s hand with a look of distaste. “It is a pity, a grave pity.”

Despite her fury, Astra managed to meet his gaze with a slow, sweet smile. Even as Lord Rathstowe mocked her, a marvelous, vengeful scheme had come to her mind. Someone needed to put this man in his place, and she knew the exact person to do it, the very one. The plan was utterly perfect!

“Really, my lord,” she said calmly. “I had no idea you were seeking a wife. Perhaps you are too bashful to pursue the more desirable maidens effectively.” She gave him a sly smile. “I will speak to the Queen about the matter immediately. I’m sure she will be pleased to arrange a suitable alliance for you.”

Astra curtsied and walked away, glancing back only once to savor Faucomberg’s puzzled frown.

* * *

“Christ’s balls, you did not!” Marguerite gave a delighted shriek and hugged Astra. “It’s marvelous, Astra, simply marvelous. Even I could not think of such a wicked revenge.”

Astra smiled wanly. “Are you sure it is not too cruel? You don’t think he will actually hurt her, do you?”

“Oh, no! Mark my words, Isabel Vipoint will more than hold her own in the marriage. Besides, she has only to complain to the Queen, and Her Highness will see to it that Guy is put in his proper place. So, tell me,” she added. “How hard was it to convince the Queen that Lord Rathstowe should marry her cousin?”

“Oh, not hard at all. I played upon Eleanor’s pity. I told her Faucomberg’s family had been negotiating with the Fitz Hughs for your hand, but that he had lost out to Lord de Lacy. Then I mentioned he had pursued me as well, but of course I ended up wedded to Richard. I made a case that the man was hopelessly shy. He clearly needed the King’s assistance in obtaining a royal wife.”

“And Isabel—how did she come into the conversation?”

Astra gave a sweetly innocent smile. “I merely mentioned that she seemed distressed at my wedding. The Queen guessed the rest.”