Betrothal (Time Enough To Love) (8 page)

If he could have sunk through the stones of the castle floor, he would have done so gratefully. He could feel the tremendous hurt he had caused her, even though she tried to keep it tightly wound within her. But her face! She did not scowl or frown, but the set of her mouth—lips drawn into a tight, straight line—spoke eloquently of the pain he had inflicted. He could scarce meet the wounded look in her eyes.

And there was no way to make it right. He knew nothing he could say now to reassure her of his trust or to induce her to tell him her choice. Silently, he cursed Thomas, though the fault lay not solely with him. His friend had only planted the seed; Geoffrey had reaped what he had sown.

“May I go now, my lord? The princess awaits me.”

The clipped words stabbed like a knife in his heart, and he knew all the patient, clever work he had done to win her trust these last days lay in ruins. He nodded, too miserable to speak, and watched as she turned on her small, slippered heel and stalked down the corridor. The door slammed with a hollow
boom
as she left the castle.

He clenched his fist and with a muttered curse strode away in the opposite direction, back to the king’s chamber.

* * * *

By the time Geoffrey returned to the reception room, Thomas had moved closer to the door in anticipation of the king’s customary afternoon ride. His entrance drew no one’s attention as the courtiers were milling about, waiting for the king to rise. He took the opportunity of the unguarded moment to seize his friend’s tunic and shove him out the chamber door.

“Geoffrey! Have you lost your senses? What are you doing?” Thomas grasped his arms, tried to break his hold, but to no avail.

Geoffrey bore him into the corridor and threw him unceremoniously into the far wall. Thomas whirled, and reached for his knife. Geoffrey darted forward, struck the blade from his hand and grabbed his clothing again.

“You had to interfere, Thomas. Had to plant doubt in my mind.” Geoffrey’s voice lowered in deathly calm, though he seethed with anger. He adjusted his hold on the dull red fabric, screwing it into a tight knot against Thomas’s chest.

“What are you talking about, Geoffrey? You are not making sense.” Thomas glared at him, though Geoffrey caught a flicker of fear in his friend’s eyes. Good.

“I went to Alyse to learn her choice because
you
thought it would be ill-advised.” Geoffrey leaned his full weight into Thomas, trapping him against the wall with no hope of escape. “Now, in trying to prevent one disaster, I have created another. She thinks I do not trust her judgment and has withdrawn from me. Christ, she may not even speak to me again. Everything I have worked for the past two days, the trust, the companionship, the regard, has vanished.” He shook Thomas roughly, like a terrier with a rat, and turned a cold eye on his friend. “And you are going to help me get them back.”

Thomas’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Why does this matter so much to you, Geoffrey? The girl must wed you. What does it matter whether she comes willing or not to your bed? You are acting the lovesick fool!” He managed to wrest his tunic away and put some distance between them.

“Better a lovesick fool than a man incapable of feeling.”

“By God, Geoffrey…”

“Peace, Thomas.” Geoffrey put out a dismissive hand. “My regard for Lady Alyse is none of your concern. But the grief and mistrust I have brought down on my own head are, for you certainly had a hand in that.”

After ten years of friendship, how had they come to this?

An unwilling chuckle erupted from his lips, causing Thomas to glance at him suspiciously. “Two friends at odds over a woman,” he offered ruefully. “We sound like a tale from the Round Table.”

Thomas grinned at that, and the tension eased. “We do indeed. ‘Sir Thomas and the Lovesick Fool.’” He sobered. “My pardon, if my words have brooked a quarrel betwixt you and your lady. ’Twas not my intent.” He offered his hand and slowly Geoffrey reached out his as well. “So relate to me what has transpired and I will devise a plan of action to win back the regard of the fair Alyse.” His mouth turned up into a knowing smile. “For who knows better than I how to seduce a woman?”

Alyse made an appearance at supper that night only because her duties required her to attend Princess Joanna. When seated at her accustomed table, she fidgeted, uncomfortable on the narrow bench. Nothing had seemed right since Geoffrey’s betrayal. She sighed and tried to pay attention to the tale Patrick was telling of his latest troubles with his horse. It did no good. She simply could not concentrate on anything other than her own plight with Sir Geoffrey.

Inconstant oaf. When he asked me to choose our knight and lady, I believed he understood how much of a helpmeet I could be for him. I would never have chosen someone ostentatious. If he knows anything about me at all, it is that I shun attention
.

The servant brought her a trencher, filled with braised eels in a thick sauce. Alyse cringed and shoved it away, her stomach
roiling. She reached for her cup of ale, but the thought of swallowing anything right now made her shudder. Between the smoky torches, the rank odor of the food and her own woes, there was little wonder her head had begun to pound. She would not have to feign illness to leave, as she had arranged with Maurya.

When the new musician, Gracias de Gyvill, recently arrived from Spain as a gift to Princess Joanna from Prince Pedro, began to play softly on the lute, she tried once more to drag her mind from her misery. His lilting melody soothed her and she relaxed a little.

Until an outburst of laughter from across the Hall made her jump and drew her attention to the table. But both her courtiers were absent tonight. Still, the sight of their usual haunt rekindled her ire against them.

She could not decide who had angered her most. Geoffrey’s betrayal stung mightily, but she believed him led astray by his friend. She was more than willing to heap blame on that conceited lord, whose earlier disregard incensed her anew. Bitter memories of Lord Braeton blatantly ignoring her at court functions flooded her mind, and she winced to think how she had tried to dally with him the few times they had conversed.

Well, she had gotten the better of him last night. She smiled for the first time that day at the thought of her banter with him. He had seemed more respectful of her after she had taken him down a peg. And appreciative. She recalled his appraising look after their exchange.

As if he saw me for the first time.

Alyse sat straight up on her bench. Had her spirited wordplay drawn his attention at last? Perhaps he had sowed seeds of discord between her and Geoffrey out of jealousy. Perchance he was angry that she had to marry another.

Too late.

She slouched again. She was betrothed to Geoffrey. Nothing could change that. Could it? Had she ever heard of a betrothal being broken?

She glanced around the room, recalling as much gossip as possible from the past months. Had there not been talk about Lady Mary Percy and Sir Roger Delaney? One person surely knew.

“Maurya.”

Her companion turned to her and shook her head. “’Tis too early to retire yet, Alyse. Wait a bit and I shall get John to escort you.”

“Nay, ’tis not that.” Alyse glanced at Patrick on her left and lowered her voice. “Tell me about Sir Roger’s betrothal. ’Tis no longer contracted, is it?”

Maurya met her eyes with a hard stare. “Do not think of it, Alyse. Your spat with Sir Geoffrey will blow away like a March wind. He is an honorable and chivalrous man. If you give him a chance, I believe he will make amends for his behavior.”

Alyse gazed back at her, undeterred. “They were betrothed, were they not? And now she is to wed another.”

With a sigh, Maurya turned all the way around until she faced Alyse. Her voice lowered and she glanced around with sharp eyes to see who might overhear. “Aye, she and Sir Roger were to be married in March. Their families had arranged the alliance years ago. But Mary is His Majesty’s cousin…” She paused, scanned the surrounding tables once again. “’Tis said the king wished an alliance with another noble family. The Delaneys acquiesced, of course. One does not gainsay the king.”

“So His Majesty could set a betrothal aside?”

Maurya nodded slowly. “If there existed a compelling enough reason, yes, of course he could. But a quarrel with Sir Geoffrey would hardly qualify as such.” She captured Alyse’s gaze and her face seemed to harden. “Especially since King Edward favors the Longfords.”

“He does?” Alyse cocked her head. She had no idea Geoffrey’s family had the ear of the king.

“Why do you think Sir Geoffrey was given such a prestigious position in Princess Joanna’s retinue?”

She had not thought of that. Her betrothed would be second in command during the journey to Spain. Only Sir Robert de Bouchier held a higher position.

“And do you not know to whom Lady Mary is now betrothed?”

Alyse shook her head, a coldness stealing through her.

“Sir Roland of Longford. Sir Geoffrey’s elder brother.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Thank the Lord she had eaten nothing yet. There seemed little left to hope for. Only the king could put the contract aside, and she certainly had no influence over him; neither did—

Alyse’s breathing sped up, as though she could not drag air into her lungs quickly enough. Lord Braeton had spoken ill of her. Had tried to paint her as an unworthy wife. If Geoffrey came to believe this, might he and his father not petition the king to put the betrothal aside?

Would Lord Braeton be that cunning to betray his best friend? Such an action did not speak well for his character, even if he did it for love of her. She frowned, confused by the tangle of her emotions.

Because she had to admit, she had discovered many excellent qualities in Sir Geoffrey in the short time of their acquaintance. His kindness and compassion, his willingness to appease her demands to know him better. A strong and handsome man as well, though very different from his friend.

Yes, she knew more of him and liked what she had found. His lapse this afternoon might indeed be simply part of his friend’s plan to gain her hand. A flattering thought, to have two such men vying for her.

But such sweet dreams did little to stem the humiliation she had suffered in the princess’s chamber. She had had to endure Anne’s snide remarks and the princess’s pitying looks after she told them she was no longer choosing their knight and lady for the procession. Her face grew hot at the memory, and she stifled her charitable thoughts toward Geoffrey. Had he truly trusted her, nothing his friend had said would have swayed him from his belief in her.

She sighed and deliberately turned to her most immediate problem. Her instincts told her Geoffrey would try to approach her this evening, to which end she had enlisted Maurya’s help. A glance at his accustomed spot across the Great Hall reaffirmed that neither him nor Lord Braeton had appeared. Still, that meant nothing. They could enter at any time during the meal.

Geoffrey was the last person on earth she wanted to see this night, or any other, but her situation was impossible. They were both courtiers in the service of the royal household. And, of course, they were betrothed. She might as well hope to avoid the sun as Geoffrey Longford.

Her impending marriage loomed ever larger in her mind. The event that had held so much hopeful promise this morning once again dragged her into despair. She forced herself to acknowledge the reality of the situation. She was marrying a man with little regard for her feelings, one who gave and withdrew his favor as carelessly as he would order about his hounds.

If Lord Braeton cannot gain my freedom from this betrothal, Sir Geoffrey will learn I am not as submissive as his favorite bitch. If I must be his wife, he will accord me the honor and trust of that position or find me nipping at his heels.

She straightened her shoulders and shook her head, gazing around once more for sight of Geoffrey.

Seated next to Maurya and her husband, with Patrick on her left and beyond him Anne, Alyse deemed herself well-fortified against any foray led by her betrothed. She silently thanked Maurya for inviting her brother to the table. Patrick’s quick wit had always been able to lift her spirits. She exchanged pleasantries with him, though only gave half an ear to his banter as she searched the Hall in vain for her betrothed. Unsure if his absence annoyed or comforted her, she found that when the servant brought the next course, she ate more than she had expected. Perhaps her ire had indeed dimmed a smidgeon.

Patrick, meanwhile, continued to beguile her with tales of the king’s afternoon ride. “’Twas a pleasant ride out to the lists, for the king wanted to look over the lay of the land for the coming tournament. ’Twill be most exciting for you, I am sure, with Geoffrey competing.”

Alyse wrinkled her nose. “Such excitement I would cheerfully forego, Patrick.”

“Ah, lady, but you have never been to a tournament here, have you?”

“I attended one at Merwyck. A small affair of but two days. Even that was enough for me.” A memory she would happily forget.

Patrick leaned his head to the side, regarding her quizzically. “You did not fancy the tournament, Lady Alyse?”

“Nay, Patrick. ’Twas painful to watch.” She paused, swallowing her bitterness. “Knights I knew were injured. I lost much that day.” She closed her eyes, willing the horrible images away.

“You are too tenderhearted, Alyse. I hope you will enjoy this tournament. It should prove most entertaining. Many are drawn here for the prizes, and for the chance to receive riches from hands such as yours, my lady.” Patrick took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on the top of it. Alyse sighed and smiled at him. He had a way about him that always put her at ease. Would that that were the case with others she could name.

Patrick continued, with a studied lack of concern that did not quite fool Alyse. “I did hear today, as we were walking the lists, that one of the jousting matches is to be a challenge match. Sir Geoffrey challenged Lord Braeton to a joust.”

Alyse’s eyes widened. “Was there reason for the challenge? Or is it just a match between friends to test their skills?”

“I know not, lady.” Patrick’s voice dropped. “But there seems to have been a rift between them. They barely spoke and black looks passed between them, where usually they are the best of companions. If some offense was taken, I know not.”

Alyse’s appetite fled, and she pushed her trencher away. Had Geoffrey blamed his friend for their quarrel and challenged Lord Braeton to a joust for her honor? She shuddered at the thought. She hoped this was not his way of making amends to her, though she feared it likely.

Though thought of Geoffrey in combat unsettled her, the idea of him trouncing Lord Braeton in a feat of arms held even less appeal. What if one of them was injured? They were seasoned knights, true, and the weapons were blunted, but accidents did happen. If anyone knew that, she did.

She rubbed her hand over her eyes as a real headache sprang forth. “My head has gotten worse, Maurya. Would you make my excuse to the princess? May I trouble Sir John to escort me to my chamber?”

Before Maurya could reply, Patrick spoke up. “I would be most honored to escort you, Lady Alyse.”

After a brief, curious glance at her brother, Maurya shrugged and said, “He may talk you to distraction before you arrive, Alyse, but you shall arrive safe indeed. ’Twill be all right for Patrick to take you.” She fixed him with a cool stare. “See that you come back in good time, Patrick. I will brook no foolishness.”

“Your servant, dear sister, as always. My lady.” He rose and bowed to them then assisted Alyse to rise. She scanned the room one last time but still saw no evidence of Sir Geoffrey or his friend. Patrick presented his arm and led her quietly from the Great Hall.

They walked leisurely toward the stairs that lead to the upper levels and her room, but instead of mounting the stairs, Patrick continued past the staircase and outside to a small courtyard abloom with roses in the waning sunlight.

“Where are we going, Patrick?” More mystified than alarmed, Alyse leaned on the young courtier’s arm. Now she desired only her bed.

“I thought the fresh air, especially with the sweet smell of the roses, would help your headache before you retire.”

What a lovely gesture.

Patrick Sullivan certainly knew how to act the chivalrous knight. He led her toward a small bower, concealing a bench under a canopy of pink and red roses. The fragrant, heady scent intoxicated her.

“They do smell heavenly, Patrick.” Alyse touched the silky petals of a fragile, sunset-pink rose. “So beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, my lady.” The deep familiar voice made her heart stop.

Alyse froze then spun around to face Geoffrey Longford as he came forward from the lengthening shadows of the courtyard.

“Patrick Sullivan, how could you?” She turned her head to glare at him.

He had the temerity to grin at her as he turned to go, his part in the treachery now apparently over. “Oh, I would have done much worse to help my friends resolve their differences.” He leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Forgive the man, Alyse. He meant no harm and has been a terrible bore all afternoon. Throw him a sop, lest we have to endure his grumps another day.”

With a swift bow, Patrick withdrew, leaving her to Geoffrey and the cloying smell of roses.