Her Noble Lords (13 page)

I stand at the window of the fine chamber provided for my use, gazing at the dust cloud on the far horizon. I have been watching it for nearly twenty minutes now, observing the grey, hazy shape grow and shift position as the distant riders approach Egremont. It is the priest; it must be, escorted by the troop of guards dispatched from this castle ten days previously. They are late. Inclement weather might have delayed them, or perhaps they encountered footpads on the route here. The remote northern uplands are riddled with bandits and thieves which makes travel a hazardous undertaking even for heavily armed men.

No matter, the priest is almost with us. And my time for procrastinating is at an end. I must make my decision and inform the St. John brothers what conclusion I have arrived at.

Would be much simpler if I actually did have a clear preference. As it is, my head is full to overflowing with what ifs and if onlys.

A knock at the door to my chamber disturbs my jumbled thoughts still further. It will be Joan, no doubt, who has been elevated to the station of my maid, at least for the duration of my stay here. I turn and call out an invitation to enter.

It is not the smiling servant, however. The door opens and Piers steps though. He looks magnificent as ever, and as formidable as I have ever seen him, even with a switch in his hand. I make an involuntary step back.

“My lord, I was not expecting to see you this morning.” I had understood that both brothers intended to inspect the boundaries of their lands today. There had been incursions by Scots bandits in recent weeks and fortifications may be required on their northern borders.

“We were informed of Father Peter’s imminent arrival and deemed it wise to have one of us on hand to greet him. It matters not which of us remains, he will not know the difference.”

“I see.” It no longer surprises me that Piers will just impersonate his brother without a moment’s hesitation, nor do I doubt his success. I have witnessed this on many occasions now and it is true that no one at Egremont is in the least concerned which of the brothers they deal with. Piers enjoys exactly the same authority that his brother does. I gesture to the window casement. “I have been observing Father Peter’s progress. He will be at the gates before nightfall.”

Piers does not respond to that. Instead he regards me levelly for several moments. Then, “You fear me, little maid.”

This I had not expected. I gape at him. “I do not, sir.”

“Aye, you do. This is why you hesitate.”

“Hesitate? I have no notion what your meaning might be, my lord.”

“Do not waste my time or yours in dissembling, madam. You are afraid of me and this is the reason you have not accepted my brother’s proposal of marriage.”

I can find no words to dispute this. Sir Piers is absolutely correct.

He shrugs and continues. “I cannot blame you, we have not got off on the right foot, you and I. Circumstances have dictated that I be the one to punish you on two occasions already and I know you must consider me harsh in comparison to my brother.” He pauses to bless me with a wry smile. “He was always the more affable of the pair of us.”

I abandon any further attempt to deflect the conversation into safer waters. “It… it is not just the matter of the spankings. On each occasion, I know you had justification for punishing me and you did me no injury. If Ralf’s shoulder had been fully healed, he would have been the one to wield the switch, I imagine.”

“Probably. But it was not, so you had to contend with me. And it was I who had you thrown into the dungeons and who threatened to hang you. You are right to be wary of my temper.”

I tilt my chin at him. “It is not your temper which concerns me, sir. Rather, it is your indifference.”

Now it is his turn to be taken aback. He raises an eyebrow, frowning. “I am not indifferent to you, little maid. Why would you think that?”

“Perhaps that is not exactly the correct word but I think it fair to say you lack your brother’s enthusiasm for this arrangement between the three of us. Perhaps you have other aspirations?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I mean, perhaps you wish to marry another and you prefer not to be saddled with me.”

He narrows his eyes at me, his expression guarded. “I have no desire to seek a bride elsewhere.”

“Then it is the latter. You do not share your brother’s fascination with me.” I draw in a deep breath. “Please do not seek to spare my feelings, my lord. It is better we speak plainly, is it not? I have no wish to create discord between you and Sir Ralf but if this, this—liaison—is his dream and not yours, you should make that clear to both of us.”

He regards me in silence for several long moments. “You are a most surprising young woman, Linnet Routh. I can quite see how you captivated my brother so and lest you should continue to harbour doubts on this matter, I repeat, my own feelings toward you are far from indifferent. On that score you are wrong but much else of what you say is true enough.”

He has me baffled. I advance into the middle of the room and seat myself beside a small table. A flagon of sweet wine was left there by Joan earlier. I pour a goblet, as much to give me something to do with my hands as out of any desire for refreshment. “My lord, would you care for some wine?”

“Aye, I think perhaps I would.” He takes a seat opposite me and waits for me to hand him his drink. “Thank you, Linnet.”

“My lord, I—”

“Linnet, you love my brother, do you not?” He interrupts my question as though he did not hear me speak.

I reply slowly, not certain where this conversation might take us. “Yes, sir, I do.”

He nods. “As do I. And he loves me. It has always been so. Always the two of us, together and everyone else…” He offers me a gesture to indicate—what? Separateness, being set apart? I suppose they may have felt like that over the years, an indivisible duo, bound to each other for all time. “There is nothing I would not do for my brother and in turn, I know I can rely on him, absolutely. It was always that way for us. It always will be. Or so I thought.”

“I see that, sir, and as I have said, it is not my wish to come between you.”

“I know that is not your intent, Linnet, but it will happen nevertheless. A wife will make a difference. If just one of us marries, whichever one of us should do so, his affections, his loyalties will be divided. That would be inevitable and since Egremont will require heirs in the coming years, a bride will be needed. We may have to accept that consequence. If we each marry, each take our own bride, the rift will be greater still and I am not convinced I would consider the potential gains worth the wrench of losing my brother. Can you understand that? Can you comprehend the bond which exists between Ralf and me?”

My heart is sinking, I know where he is heading now. He will accept me, if he must, as the means to avoid severing the bond with his twin. I nod and lower my gaze to study my hands which are clasped in my lap. “Yes, my lord. I understand love. And duty.”

“Do you? For I am not convinced I could lay claim to such knowledge. All I know is, your presence here offers us a different possibility, one which we had not imagined.”

“It does? I am not sure I follow you?”

“If you consent to become our bride—
our
bride, Linnet, then two will be three. We will share you, Ralf and I, as we share all else in this world. But for that to work, you must know you belong to both of us, equally. There can be no favourites; you must give yourself to each of us without reservation.”

I tilt my chin up and meet his eyes. “And what would you be able to offer me, sir? If one of you loves me and the other does not, how could that work?”

He inclines his head, holding my gaze as he does so. “It would not work and it is my responsibility to address that issue, to ensure there is no misunderstanding between us. That is why I am here. This is the only conversation I will ever have with you which I am not prepared to share with my brother.” He stands, walks to the window to observe the progress of the coming priest. He turns to face me again. “I swear to you, Linnet Routh, that I will be a fair but firm husband, should you choose to accept our proposal. I will adore you no less than my brother does. I will protect and honour you and if such be required, I would lay down my life for you. I am a stern man and discipline will be a part of our lives. It is likely I will be the one wielding the switch as often as not since Ralf… well, Ralf has other strengths. But I will love you none the less.”

“Love me? But, you do not even like me!”

“Why would you think that? Spanking and switching aside and the dungeon of course, have I not been kind to you?” He halts, gives a low chuckle. “On second thoughts, I do completely see how you might have arrived at that conclusion. Do you think we might start over?”

I can only stare at him. “No, sir, it was none of those things which brought me to the opinion I expressed. Rather, it has been your distance, your lack of warmth toward me in comparison to your brother.”

“You were to be Ralf’s bride, or so I believed. I would not betray my brother, ever. Whatever I might have felt, how else would you expect me to have behaved in those early days? I am a man of some honour, though I confess it has been somewhat strained of late. Now though, all has changed.”

“Because Ralf knows and approves? That is why, that time in your bedchamber…?”

“Yes, exactly. And it was good between the three of us, was it not?”

I pause but cannot lie. “It was, sir. It was very good.”

“That is what I want, what we want from you, with you. Always. We can promise you pleasure, little maid. I do not believe you would regret this marriage, however unorthodox it may seem.”

“I… see.”

Piers advances toward me, tips up my chin with his fingers. He leans down to kiss me, the touch light, almost brotherly. Almost, not quite. He straightens with a soft smile. “Please consider what I have said. I have but one final remark to offer and it is this. If our marriage is to work, all three of us will need to have absolute faith in each other. Ralf and I can promise you that, the rest is up to you.” He steps away, putting a polite distance between us. “Father Peter will be here in a few hours. We will summon you to learn your decision.”

He offers me an almost formal bow and is gone.

* * *

I get little or no sleep that night and the grey light of dawn sees me creeping across the bailey toward the entrance to the kitchens. I enter and as I had hoped, I spy a sleepy Joan crouching before the enormous fireplace stirring the huge grate into life. Despite her new station in life attending to my needs, she has not been excused her early morning duties here in the kitchens. She glances at me, concealing a yawn as she hurls a large log onto the glowing embers.

“Lawks, Linnet, what are ye doing about at this time? I thought ‘twas only me had to be up afore the sun.”

I peer around, satisfy myself we are alone. “Joan, I need to talk to you. But you must swear not to reveal what I am to tell you. Not to anyone.”

Her glowering expression is difficult to interpret but I finally settle on suspicion. Her words confirm this.

“Ye know I be yer friend and now yer maid but I’ll not be a party to anythin’ dishonest. I value my place here.”

“No, of course not. It is nothing of the sort. I just need to ask you something.”

“Aye, an’ what would that be, then?” I can tell by her face my assurances have not entirely convinced her.

“What do you think of Sir Ralf and Sir Piers? I know they are both fine lords, noble lords, but are they decent men?”

“Decent men?” I suspect Joan would look less incredulous had I suggested that the St. John brothers might sprout wings and fly around the Egremont battlements in the moonlight. She gapes at me for several seconds before responding with an inelegant snort. “Is there any such thing? If there be, I daresay the description would fit.”

“They are very close, are they not?”

“Aye, I suppose. They are twins after all.”

“Yes. And they share—this?” I gesture around me. “The castle, the earldom?”

“Linnet, what are you asking me? I am thinking that spell in the dungeon has addled your brains mayhap.” Joan reaches for another log which she seizes in both arms and tosses on top of the first. Her labours are rewarded as the fire flickers and flames start to edge around the dry timber. She stands and surveys the small blaze with satisfaction. “Help me mix the oatmeal if ye’re going to be taking up my time chattering. Cook’ll have my hide if there’s nothing hot to warm her stomach when she gets down here.”

I reach for a ladle and stir the heavy cauldron which has been prepared the night before and left covered on the table to deter rats. I then aid Joan in hauling it across to the fire and securing it on the hook over the crackling flames. She adds more fuel, gives it another vigorous stir, then appears satisfied all is in order for now.

“So, what has brought all this on, then?” Joan settles onto the bench beside the table and pours each of us a mug of mead.

“All what?” Agnes scuttles in to warm her fingers by the fire, then sits down next to Joan. I see no alternative but to take my seat opposite and share my unlikely tale with the pair of them.

“Sweet Mother of God, you intend to wed both of them? Both?” Agnes’ eyes are wide, her jaw dropping in astonishment as I conclude.

Joan is less impressed. And far more pragmatic. “Ye’ll be needing stamina then. I wonder if we might add a handful more oatmeal to the porridge?”

* * *

Later that morning I enter the earl’s solar in response to a summons from Ralf to find the priest and the St. John brothers deep in conversation. All three men rise to greet me as I step through the door. It is Father Peter who speaks first.

“My dear child, I gather there has been a most unfortunate error. A dreadful business indeed, most shocking.” He wrings his hands, his expression one of righteous regret. “The earl assures me that no dishonour was intended however and more important, that none has been perpetrated. If you are ready to confess your sins and seek God’s forgiveness I am sure the matter may be resolved with alacrity.”