A Rose for Lancaster (The Tudor Rose Novella series) (2 page)

My thoughts spun in circles to find an escape from the inevitable. Henry must be enjoying this moment—the complete and total rout of the York line by the simple act of marrying York women to eligible Lancaster men. Stealing their inheritance out from under them without nary a thought for the family lineage. Henry’s maneuvers were not subtle. I must find a way to delay my impending marriage until the York side rallied. I remained one of the last unwed females in an unsullied line and my duty, as I knew it to my father, was to get heirs for the good of York.

I entertained an idea to stave off his advances and remain untouched. If our marriage proved unconsummated it may be possible to seek an annulment from His Holiness, the Pope.

The riders drew close. Hoof beats echoed against the walls of Langley. I prepared to greet my betrothed in dreary attire, with my hair arranged in a severe style. Never in my life had I shunned pretty things but today I stood firm in my intention to rebuff this cocky youth in word and deed.

Chapter Two

~ Giles ~

My liegeman, Murdo, dug me in the ribs with a sharp elbow. The glint in his eye told me enough of his thoughts.

“Lady Langley is not inclined to accommodate me,” I grumbled.

He chuckled at my disappointment. “The lady will come around in good time. She has no choice but to bend to the will of a king. You are one lucky bastard, as always.”

“She all but named me one. Take heed, or I
may believe you in league with the woman.”

“A fine one to be in league with, if not too bold to say.”

I snorted in frustration. “The king gave me land and titles on the condition of marriage, but with the added proviso of bringing children into the marriage, preferably sons.

“You’ll have one in her within the week.” A sly grin spread over Murdo’s face. “Mayhap, by tomorrow’s eve. A fine young lad such as you, with the vigor of a stag.”

“I intend to lie with her after a priest binds us as man and wife in the sight of God and not before.”

“Like I said, Sir Giles, you’re a lucky bastard. Many thought her an old maid but we’ve seen the truth. She’s ripe like a peach.”

The solid presence of Murdo by my side calmed my inner doubt. I held no issue with marriage. A man should wed early and quickly, especially those in need of heirs, but to force a woman into marriage for political reasons churned my innards. She had no choice. And Henry commanded it.

“I admit relief at having seen her with my own eyes.”

I stood in the courtyard among the men, absently watching them prepare for weaponry practice. A horseman, a man of Langley, rode out of the gates toward the main road.

“Where is he bound?”

Murdo replied with his usual insightful wisdom. “Your lady has friends in high places. ‘Tis wise for a solitary woman to counsel with those she trusts.” He snapped his fingers at one of our men who instantly ran to his side. ‘Follow yon fellow and do your utmost to seek his purpose.”

He lowered his voice as our man ran to the stables. “Don’t sleep with your back to any woman until you know her mind.” His hand slapped my shoulder hard as he bellowed with laughter. “You should see the look on your face, Sir Giles.”

I returned his laugh but secretly wondered if there wasn’t a grain of truth in his jest. My cousins had warred with one another for a generation and no one truly believed it had ended. Henry’s throne, far from secure, lay open to many pretenders and, mayhap, even he did not sleep with his back to Elizabeth of York. Our lovely queen, heavy with his child, may sit by her husband’s side contemplating his demise, eager to restore the days of her father’s Yorkist court.

****

Late into the night the man returned to Murdo’s side, and after garbled whispers they approached me. A package of letters slid into my hand and I paused, dampened by the necessity of our connivance. Three letters in all, one for the queen, one to the Scottish court and one to a secret recipient in London, burned a hole in my pocket along with my fertile imagination until daybreak when I chanced to read them alone.

The letter to the queen, though merely a formality, held an underlying tone of desperation. The letter to the Scots barely disguised hopes of escape. But the third letter r
oused my suspicion. A jumble of words and nonsensical rhymes revealed a connection with a devious mind in London.

I stored the letters in my locked traveling chest under Murdo’s keen eye. An ever-faithful watchdog to me and my family, I trusted his keeping.

“Close the house to anyone seeking entry and allow no one to leave without my permission.” I thought to take control of the plots brewing around me and if the Lady had a mind to deceive me then Langley Manor would become her prison. I held no anger toward her. Loyal kin worked for their family to circumvent an ill wind. No fault of hers that Henry ruled the kingdom and not her York cousins.

“Bad news?” Murdo read my mood.

“She treads a dangerous path if this reaches the ear of the king.”

“The sooner you are wedded and bedded the better.”

“Not such an easy task with an unwilling woman.”

“You’ve been spoiled, lad. Most men learn to sweeten a woman early in life. Wenches rarely flock to
a bed as easily as yours. It takes the skill and diplomacy of a courtier to find kind words and tender manners in response to a woman’s reproaches.” We paused in our morning inspection of the courtyard. “If you want her as a willing wife, Sir Giles, then win her favor.”

He suggested the impossible but I recognized good advice. At the sound of footsteps he paused, and I looked in the direction of his interest. A woman walked toward us, dressed in a heavy cloak, resembling a great black crow, but the breath flew out of my chest and my eyes riveted to her face.

Lady Blanche Langley stepped through the centre of the courtyard as men moved aside with an accommodating speed. I heard ripples of appreciation at her beauty and marveled at the golden tresses curling out from the fur-lined hood covering her noble brow. For a brief moment I imagined her delighted at my presence and waited expectantly for her to speak before I remembered it was I who held the title of master of the household. Her brow creased in an endearing way.

Murdo’s advice rose fresh in my mind. I signaled for my men to move away. “May I be of service, Lady Langley?”

“You may, Lord Somerset. I wish to send a letter to my kin informing them of the royal order that I must marry. I have it here.” Her soft brown eyes twinkled as she played me for a fool.

“As you wish.” I stared into the face of the woman I must soon marry—a foolish boy gawking over his first love. Her shoulders relaxed and my soon-to-be wife rewarded me with a smile, revealing flawless teeth.

“I regret my distress last evening. Please understand my harshness is not directed at you, but at my situation.”

“I pray to ease your distress and accommodate your wishes within my power.” I withheld the knowledge that her messenger roamed the countryside without a horse or a package of letters to deliver.

She nodded, turning to leave but as though in afterthought she stopped. “May I have your assurance that all communication from my kin will be delivered to my person.”

I understood her purpose. “You will be informed immediately.” The reply from the spymaster would arrive disguised as a family letter, filled with false words and hidden messages. No letters must pass into her hand unread, and my vigilance must increase tenfold.

“In turn may I request your company tonight, Lady Langley?” A delicate blush rose to her cheeks.

“Tonight?”

“In the great hall, at dinner.” My mind conjured her wearing a yellow dress, loose hair flowing around her shoulders like an untouched maid. Undiscovered joy lay beneath her stark cloak and my body responded to the promise of her allure.

Her mouth twitched in distaste but she accepted with a nod. If she thought me easily manipulated then so be it. I had everything to lose and she, everything to gain, if our union failed.

That evening I dressed in my best available clothing knowing I lacked, but Murdo assured me I made a fine impression.

My lady eyed me politely as I took my place next to her at the high table. I met the keen stare of her household and freeholders. They deferred to my position and I knew them to be farmers not fighters. The hall, large and well lit with torches this evening exceeded my expectations. Rich wood paneling, adorned with portraits of her ancestors, lined the room and ceremonial banners and weaponry filled the spaces in between. It proclaimed wealth and position to the guests of Langley, and intimidated potential aggressors. It was mine, all of it, and I marveled at the fortunes of a man when the tides turned and one king fell on the battlefield only to have another pick up the crown and conquer a nation.

“Ale, milord?” A serving wench filled my cup, her eyes holding an invitation. I stared past her to glimpse my quarry lifting a cup of ale in welcome, encouraging her house to do the same. Lady Blanche wore a modest kirtle of dark green, with a high neck and sleeves reaching her fingertips. I noticed the local priest sitting at the end of our table.

“Father, I require your services soon.” My lady’s back stiffened. “To marry my humble person to Lady Blanche, on the king’s order.”

“The dispensation!” she whispered.

The priest nodded in agreement. I reached for the lady’s hand, every part of my body alive with anticipation.

“We await the authority from His Holiness the Pope, but it comes soon.” A murmur ran around the room as talk of our nuptials spread. My intended could hardly complain at my eagerness to share our happiness.

“You’re not the first to talk of a marriage to the fair lady of Langley,” cackled an old man. “She’s buried three of ‘em and married none of ‘em.” A smile reached my lips but the amusement on Lady Blanche’s face caught me off guard. If she longed for my demise, I planned to thwart her hopes.

“We’ll have no talk of what’s past. A new age is beginning—a Tudor age. Henry and Elizabeth unite York and Lancaster, and your sweet mistress and I join as man and wife to end past bitterness.”

The guests sat in silence at my forthright speech. Murdo nodded agreeably, encouraging my men to add their approval. All eyes turned to Lady Blanche, curious for her response. She raised her cup and took a tiny sip. The cup passed to me and I drank the remainder in one gulp, devouring her wine as the men of Lancaster now devoured a weakened house of York.

I escorted the lady to her chamber door, eager to enter but my chances fared low. She bade me goodnight and threw me a chilled look expecting me to wither. As I took her in my arms my heart raced at the softness of her body and the wondrous smell of her clean skin and hair.

“I bid you a goodnight, mistress of Langley.” The span of my hand captured her small waist, and the sight of her rising bodice as she endured the moment drove my desire beyond good reason. I held her against me, enjoying the closeness even if she did not.

“Goodnight,” she replied curtly. Her door closed and for the moment she remained within her rights to refuse me entry, but not for long I vowed. Not for long!

****

Five days later we were married in the morning by the priest. The witnesses, Murdo, Gerda, the head steward of Langley, along with two of my best men stood by us. Every inch a noblewoman in a gown of dark silk, embroidered in relief with white roses, Blanche stood graceful and demure. Anxiously I repeated my vows, staring into the face of a woman I had planned to tolerate, and now ached to bed and make mine. She avoided my gaze, repeating the words slowly, perhaps hoping to be interrupted with news to delay the wedding. None came. The vows were sealed with a chaste kiss on her dainty hand and I concealed the joy of my victory.

I ruled Somerset, I ruled Langley and I ruled its mistress. Fool I was not; I gently guided my wife to the great hall and gifted her with quality cloth and good wine. She accepted with nary a glance in my direction but it mattered not. She would lie in my bed tonight accepting my advances, albeit in quiet resignation. The house feasted alongside us, swept up in our joy and happiness—or at least mine. Milady sat quietly smug, nodding with serenity as the locals and my men sang our praises.

I waited in controlled anticipation, envisioning the coming night and the delights it promised. Men openly congratulated me. I declined further drink, thinking it foolhardy to indulge on the one night that mattered most to a bride. The time dragged on but my good lady wife kept the household in idle chatter.

“The hour is late Sir Giles,” Murdo keenly noted and I silently thanked him.

The hall went quiet. “If you please, my lord, I should like to retire.” Blanche’s voice filled my ears with music. My experience in the matter of readying a bride for bedding lacked, but Murdo, as always, knew the proper practice.

“His lordship will await his bride in the master’s chamber.” I stood up and kissed her, this time on the cheek. The crowd rumbled in approval. As they dispersed to find their own bed for the night my men mingled with the wenches testing their luck. Many a man hoped to plow a fresh furrow tonight while spirits rode high.

I washed and changed into a white shirt and a pair of clean breeches to impress my highborn lady and waited an hour before sending Murdo to inquire after my wife’s progress. He returned with the stern-faced matron, Gerda.

“My lady is indisposed.”

“Indisposed?” My temper threatened to rise at my wife’s defiance. “Explain.”

“‘Tis women’s business.” The matron jutted her wiry chin.

“Is that so?”

Murdo shifted and his head shook from side-to-side. I heeded the warning.

“Return to your mistress with my well-wishes. Inform me of her health tomorrow. Good night, madam.”

The crow retreated into the hall and I waited until she moved out of earshot before I rounded on Murdo.

“She’s a damned liar.”

He chuckled. “Not the first woman to use her monthly course as an excuse, I’ll wager. Be patient. It can’t last forever, even if ‘tis true.”

“I suspect she believes a means of escape will arrive and she holds out until the last moment?”