His Runaway Maiden (13 page)

She closed her eyes, but could not get to sleep again, so she deliberated over which gown to wear for the ceremony. Eventually she decided on the dark blue one with the fur-lined blue velvet cloak, fastened with her brother’s silver brooch. She wondered how Harry would feel about her being alive and married to the man who had saved his life. She did not doubt he would be pleased. If only she could see him again, he would be able to answer all the questions that no one else could. She prayed for his safety and then hummed a snatch of the dance music. She had a feeling of warm contentment. Was this akin to happiness and would it last?

‘What are you thinking?’

Her husband’s question startled her into saying, ‘What should I be thinking? How did you know I was awake?’

Alex caressed her calf with his big toe. ‘You were humming. I always think, when someone answers a question with a question that they are avoiding telling the truth.’ His voice was light.

Her brow puckered. ‘You think I’m not being honest with you?’

‘How can I tell if you do not answer my question?’

She thought about that and said cautiously, ‘I was thinking about what to wear for the ceremony and decided on the dark blue gown and the blue velvet cloak.’

‘Could you not have told me that straight away?’

‘I thought you might have considered me frivolous.’

‘Deciding on what you are to wear for an important occasion is not frivolous. It shows sense.’ He lifted her dark hair and kissed the nape of her neck. ‘Besides, why should I disapprove of you being frivolous on occasions? From what you have told me of your previous life, you were
seldom light-hearted and you showed good sense in what you had to say in our discussion last night.’

Rosamund turned in his arm and smiled at him. ‘Thank you. I am glad that you have forgiven me for overstepping the mark. I should not expect to know all your secrets.’

A smile cleaved his cheek. ‘But you would like to do so?’

She thought about that and replied, ‘I think it depends on the secret, but I will not press you. I—I must learn to do well all that a wife must do. Lady Elizabeth spoke of your grandmother and I wish I could have met her. I would like to be like her.’

He frowned. ‘I would rather you be yourself than someone else. My grandmother was not perfect.’

‘You expect me to be perfect?’

‘No!’ he exclaimed vehemently. ‘For I am not perfect.’

Rosamund wanted to ask why he thought that, but did not have the courage. As it was there was a knock on the door that brought their conversation to an end.

‘Time to get up,’ said Alex.

He would have liked to have stayed longer in bed with his wife and risk bringing up the subject of babies. Instead, they turned away from each other and climbed out of bed.

The fire had gone out and it was cold in the room. Rosamund picked up the jug and hurried over to the door and opened it a few inches. She was about to ask the maid to bring some hot water, but saw a jug of steaming water had been placed on the floor. She carried it inside. ‘No doubt all the servants are rushed off their feet this morning.’ Her eyes alighted on their dance costumes. ‘Do you think we have time to see if they fit?’

Alex rasped a finger along his unshaven jaw. ‘You can try yours on whilst I shave.’

‘Don’t you normally have a man to do that for you?’ she asked, watching him take a leather package from a saddlebag.

‘At home in Sweden,’ he answered.

‘What is your home like? Is it large and well furnished, fitting for a Baron?’ She felt in such a good mood that day that she was not going to torture herself with thoughts of Ingrid. She picked up the black silk gown sewn with silver stars and saw that there was a sleeveless surcote to wear over it. She had not noticed it before.

‘My grandfather once had a house in Visby, but now trade has dropped off so I sold it after Grandmother died. I have yet to buy another town house.’ He glanced round at her. ‘There is no rush for me to do so as I have a manor house in the country.’

‘When will we go there? Is it possible that Harry might sail to Sweden rather than return to London?’ Rosamund eased the gown over her head and pulled it down over a fresh white linen undergown. She tied up the silver ribbons that tightened the bodice and smoothed the sleeves down to her wrists.

‘It is possible,’ said Alex cautiously. ‘It depends on the cargo he is carrying. If he does not return to London by the time spring is here, then we will cross the northern sea in May in the hope of finding he has made landfall there.’

‘You said that his ship was given to him by your grandfather,’ she said, fastening the surcote. ‘That was very generous of him.’

‘Aye, it was, but Harry had worked hard for the
business.’ Alex wiped his chin with a cloth and turned to look at her. A slow smile lightened his rugged features. ‘You look enchanting. I’m reminded of a night sky.’

She gave him a delighted look. ‘Do you think that was what Godmother was thinking when she designed the costumes?’

‘Perhaps. Let me see you wearing the mask?’

Rosamund complied with his request, but had difficulty fastening the strings at the back. Alex performed the task for her and then twirled her round so that she faced him. ‘Would you recognise me?’ she asked.

His eyes narrowed. ‘If I were not expecting to see you and it was by candlelight and there were other ladies dressed the same and moving in the dance? I think not.’

‘I’m not sure the same could be said of you,’ she added, removing the surcote. ‘You’re taller than the other men and your hair is longer and fairer.’

‘I am not cutting my hair,’ he said firmly.

‘You could wear a wig,’ she suggested as she tugged at the strings of the mask.

‘Here.’ He untied it for her and murmured against her ear, ‘You are not suggesting I borrow one from Lady Elizabeth?’

Rosamund chuckled. ‘I would like to see her face if you were to do so. Have you worn a wig in the past?’

‘On occasions when I have needed a special disguise.’ He picked up his mask and held it against his face. ‘What is your opinion?’

She met the glitter of his eyes through the eyeholes. ‘How different a mask makes one appear.’ A shiver ran through her.

‘There is naught to be frightened of,’ he said sharply. ‘Now we must stop wasting time and get ready for the ceremony.’

‘I beg your pardon. I did not mean to waste time, but—’

‘Quick, Rosamund! Out of that gown and on with the one you are wearing for the ceremony,’ he said, slapping her lightly on the bottom.

She feared that she had displeased him, for he was still frowning when he picked up the velvet cloak and swung it about her shoulders and fastened it at the throat with Harry’s brooch. Once that was done, he escorted her from the bedchamber.

‘Do we stay together? Edward is sure to be there and might see us,’ she said, a tremor in her voice.

‘Perhaps it is wiser to put a little distance between us during the ceremony,’ said Alex, taking her hand. ‘But do not look so anxious. All will be well.’

She determined to smile more often and told herself that she was looking forward to the day’s events. After all, how many of the King’s subjects were able to attend such an occasion?

Lady Elizabeth was waiting for them and Rosamund thought she looked regal, dressed as she was in a pale green satin gown sewn with pearls. She suggested that they partake of bread and honey and wash it down with ale before making their way to the Queen’s great chamber. ‘One just does not know how long these occasions will last,’ she said hoarsely. ‘What a pretty gown, my dear,’ she added.

Rosamund thanked her. ‘You look magnificent.’

Her godmother shrugged. ‘I would swap all my gowns to be your age again.’

She sat at table with them and gossiped about those who would be at the ceremony, mentioning names she considered obedient to the King. There were others that she
would not trust an inch. Alex listened, but spoke little. As for Rosamund, she tried to commit to memory as much as she could of her godmother’s revelations.

‘Has Bude arrived?’ asked Rosamund.

Alex darted her a glance.

‘Indeed, he has,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘He sent a message asking me to forgive him for not attending the rehearsal last night. He added that I could depend on him on the day.’ Rosamund and Alex exchanged glances. ‘No need to look like that, my dears,’ continued Lady Elizabeth. ‘I have told him that you are partnering each other, so he will be dancing with me.’

Rosamund looked concerned. ‘I thought you had decided not to dance again. Remember what happened the other evening.’

Her godmother pouted. ‘Stop fretting. Nothing is going to happen to me.’

R
osamund was determined not to be nervous as they made their way to the Queen’s great chamber. There, a dazzling array of men and women was gathered. She had never been in such illustrious company. She had no idea where her stepbrother was and could only pray that he could not see her, squashed as she was between her godmother and an unknown lady. She wished it was her husband the other side of her, but respected his decision to keep his distance for the moment.

Rosamund watched with lively interest as the twelve-year-old Princess Margaret entered with her five-year-old sister, the Princess Mary, as well as the Queen, who was large with child. There was a fanfare of trumpets as the King and Henry, Prince of Wales, followed them into the chamber. Accompanying them were the Archbishops of Canterbury and York and the Scottish lords and clergy who had their parts to play. Her godmother whispered in Rosamund’s ear that it was Patrick Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell, who would act proxy for the King of Scotland.
He was accompanied by the Archbishop of Glasgow and the Bishop Elect of Murray.

The purpose of the ceremony was announced with great pomp and the proceedings began. As it was asked whether there was any impediment why the alliance should not take place, Rosamund found herself holding her breath, remembering what her godmother had told her about the King of Scotland’s mistress. Perhaps Kennedy would speak out at this point, but the moment passed without incident.

Soon after Princess Margaret spoke her vows loudly and clearly to the Earl of Bothwell, finishing with the words, ‘Therefore I plight and give to him in your person, as procurator aforesaid, my faith and troth.’

There was a burst of music from the royal trumpeters and in the adjoining chamber minstrels began to play. Rosamund pitied the new Queen of Scotland. She was so young to have to leave her family and country without having met her husband. Terrible to be a pawn in men’s games and for her life to be at risk. But before Rosamund could be completely overcome by a fit of the dismals, her godmother told her that they would have to be making a move now that the royal family had led their Scottish guests to another chamber where a sumptuous banquet was spread for all.

Rosamund had barely sat down next to her godmother when she caught sight of her stepbrother. She was filled with a familiar dread. Fortunately, he was not looking her way, but talking to a nun in a white habit. Immediately, she thought of Ingrid and wondered was it her. If so, what would the Baron make of the two of them sitting next to each other? Suddenly, as if he had sensed her eyes upon him, Edward turned his head and stared directly at Rosamund.

She forced herself not to look away and reminded herself that her husband was somewhere in this hall, keeping his eye on her. Edward smiled his wolfish smile and she continued to stare at him dispassionately, despite her throat feeling so tight she felt as if about to suffocate.

The nun placed a hand on Edward’s arm and put her mouth against his ear. There was something so intimate about that gesture that Rosamund’s suspicions were roused. She watched his lips move and then the nun looked in Rosamund’s direction with a startled expression on her lovely face that turned to fear.

Rosamund was so surprised that she could not look away. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into her husband’s face. ‘Do you see her? That is Ingrid sitting at Fustian’s side,’ he said.

‘Aye. I see her,’ said Rosamund, her trauma intensified by the anger in his face. ‘They must have been together in the Steel Yard that evening I was lost.’

‘Aye. Your swine of a stepbrother and the woman I was fool enough to allow to worm secrets out of me,’ he said. ‘I am glad I know her now for what she is—untrustworthy and an adulteress.’

Rosamund was relieved to hear that was how he felt about his erstwhile lover. ‘Does she ever wear anything other than a nun’s habit?’

‘Aye. She is a woman of many guises, is Ingrid.’

‘What is she doing here with Edward dressed as a nun?’

‘If there is gain to be made, then I deem she has a part to play in the conspiracy,’ said Alex in a low voice, sitting next to Rosamund. He placed his arm about her shoulders, despite continuing to stare at Edward and Ingrid, and
brought his head close to Rosamund’s. ‘I am convinced now that she did play me false.’

‘You mean with Edward instead of Harry?’

‘Aye.’ Alex’s eyes glinted. ‘I am glad I changed my mind about keeping my distance. I decided I was not having him smirking at you and believing you defenceless. I want him to know that I am your husband.’

His solicitude was comforting. ‘Why is she dressed like a nun here?’ she whispered. ‘How did she get an invitation?’

‘It is for us to find out,’ said Alex. ‘I remember her telling me that she was placed with the nuns after her Danish mother died, but as soon as she was old enough she escaped the convent walls because she found she had no gift for the religious life. It was too dull. Besides, she could not bear women
en masse
day after day.’

‘Did you not mention there were the nuns at Syon House, not far from here?’

He nodded. ‘Obviously Fustian must have summoned her here for a purpose dressed in such garb. We need to discover what it is.’

Rosamund gazed at his taut profile and her heart ached for love of him. ‘Perhaps I should go and make conversation with her and Edward. I could act like a lack-wit and that way they might reveal more than they would to you?’

‘No. Your stepbrother knows you are not crazed, however much he might have said so in the past. He also must know you detest him and I am certain by now he suspects that I am aware of his illegal activities. Let us just keep our eyes on them and wait for them to make the first move.’ He kissed the side of her face. ‘In the meantime, let them see that we are enjoying ourselves in each other’s company.’

‘If that is the game you want to play,’ she said, wondering if the kiss was part of it.

‘This is no game, sweeting. This is deadly serious. So, what shall we talk about? You choose.’

How could she start a conversation when her head was in a whirl? But, hesitantly at first, she began to talk about the proxy ceremony and of the clothes worn by the royal family. Whilst they ate, they discussed the food and he told her of the great fish that he and Harry had pulled out of the waters of his own country. In between courses, they discussed jewellery and furniture, dancing, music and architecture.

Every now and again, she noticed he would look surreptitiously at Edward and Ingrid to see what they were doing. And all the time Rosamund wondered why it should still hurt that her husband had once loved Ingrid. She felt so tense that her head ached as she strained to make her voice heard and catch his words against the background noise of music and other chattering voices. She wished the banquet would end.

Fortunately there came the moment when the King gave permission for people to move about whilst the royal family retired for a short while. It was then that Alex noticed Edward leaving the hall and told Rosamund that he was going to follow him.

‘That might be what he wants,’ she said. ‘He might lie in wait for you and—’

‘He generally gets someone else to perform his foul deeds,’ said Alex, his eyes hard and bright as gemstones. ‘You stay here and keep your eye on Ingrid. I also need to send a message.’

Rosamund watched him stride from the hall. Her god
mother and the lady on her right had risen as soon as the royal family had left the chamber and now she was alone at the table.

A group of tumblers entered the hall and began to practise their moves. She watched one of them perform a double-back somersault and then several cartwheels. She marvelled at his agility.

‘Mistress Appleby?’ said a rich, deep voice with a light foreign accent.

Startled, Rosamund looked up and saw Ingrid standing a couple of feet away. The light was better here than it had been in the church and outside the Steel Yard and the face was older than she had thought. There were creases at the corners of the pale blue eyes and lines between nose and mouth. Even so, Ingrid was still a lovely woman.

‘Sister—?’ enquired Rosamund politely.

‘Sister Birgetta.’ She inclined her head. ‘I would like a word with you, if I may?’

‘If you are acting as my stepbrother’s emissary, then you can tell him that I do not wish to hear what he has to say,’ stated Rosamund, proud that her voice was steady.

Ingrid sighed. ‘Master Fustian told me it was hopeless, but I refused to believe him. He said that you were obedient to the church’s teaching, so I thought I could act as peacemaker between the two of you.’

‘What would you have me do?’ asked Rosamund lightly. ‘Agree to meet you in a quiet place where he would creep up on me and carry me off to his mother, who would lock me up, then poison me?’

Anger flickered in Ingrid’s eyes, to be replaced almost immediately by sadness. ‘He told me you needed taking care
of because you were a crazed woman. I see it is true, for we saw you in company with a dangerous man. Unlike Master Fustian, who is a good man and wants to look after you.’

So Edward has already told Ingrid that I am crazed.
‘You obviously do not know my stepbrother as well as you believe you do,’ said Rosamund. ‘I have known him a lot longer than you, Sister. He is a cruel thieving cur and he has stolen what belongs to my brother.’

Ingrid appeared to not have heard what Rosamund said because her eyes were fixed on the silver brooch at her throat. ‘Where did you get that brooch?’

‘The Baron gave it to me. It belongs to my brother, Harry.’

‘But what is this you say?’ Ingrid gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Your brother is dead.’

‘Have you proof of that?’ said Rosamund with disdain. ‘His body was never found, you know. I am certain he still lives.’

Ingrid laughed. ‘Because the Baron has told you so? I would not believe him if I were you. He is a spy and is for ever deceiving people.’

If Rosamund had not already known her husband was a spy, then this revelation might be expected to shock her. ‘And what is your reason for deceiving people? Linger here a while and tell my husband to his face that he is a deceiver.’

Ingrid’s face blanched. ‘Your husband! I deemed you were only betrothed.’

‘Then you have been wrongly informed. Baron Dalsland and I are married.’

‘I don’t believe it. There has been no time.’

Rosamund’s eyes gleamed with a sapphire light. ‘I
married him two days ago in front of a priest in my godmother’s bedchamber.’

Ingrid’s lips tightened into a thin line. ‘Your godmother! She is the one with the white painted face? Why did you marry the Baron in her bedchamber? Perhaps she has not long to live and thought to provide you with a protector,’ Ingrid said in pitying tones. ‘You cannot really believe a real baron would marry you without some incitement. Besides, he should be arrested and thrown into a deep, dark dungeon. He is a pirate and has attacked English ships. I will see to it that he is arrested,’ she said passionately.

Rosamund could feel a megrim coming on, but her curiosity was roused. ‘How can a nun have my husband arrested?’

Ingrid smiled. ‘Now you ask a sensible question and I will give you an answer. I will speak to the new Queen of Scotland and ask her to deal with the matter.’

‘You are acquainted with her Majesty?’ asked Rosamund with genuine surprise.

Ingrid drew herself up and there was an odd expression in her pale blue eyes. ‘I am a representative of the Bridgettine Order at Syon House, where prayers have been said for the Princess Margaret daily. They will continue, even though she is now Queen.’ She smirked. ‘I was appointed to bring her a wedding gift because I have royal blood in my veins. It is a specially printed copy of the gospel of St Luke. She was delighted.’ Ingrid tucked her hands in her wide sleeves. ‘Now I will go and have a word with the Queen and you may come with me.’

‘I would rather not,’ said Rosamund, wondering what the Baron would make of this news. ‘I can see my husband coming. You had better go.’

Ingrid’s self-satisfied expression altered and she hurried away, only to collide into one of the tumblers and send him flying. She steadied herself and suggested loudly that he pick himself up, then she left the hall.

‘Frightened her away, did I?’ said Alex, looking grim.

‘She as good as said that she has the ear of Princess Margaret—I mean, the new Queen of Scotland.’

Alex’s expression was suddenly alert. ‘Did she say how she managed that?’

‘Apparently the nuns pray daily for the Princess Margaret and Ingrid was chosen to bring a present for her from the convent.’

‘She has retreated to the convent in the past, so perhaps some of what she told you was true.’ Alex sat down next to his wife and grinned at her. ‘I don’t know how you extracted that information from her, but it is possible that she could worm herself into the royal confidence and end up in a position where she is able to discover the date of departure and the route Queen Margaret and her entourage will take to the border.’

Rosamund was warmed by his praise. ‘I am glad I please you. I can add to the information I have already given you and tell you that she was going to ask the new Queen to have you arrested for piracy.’

‘Did she now?’ Alex whistled. ‘She would need to provide proof and no doubt she believes Edward could do that due to his own involvement.’

‘He did tell her I was crazed and she wanted to take me to him.’

Alex’s gold-brown eyes flamed with anger and he took Rosamund’s hand and held it firmly. ‘You have given me
at least two reasons why I should kill him. The pair of them remind me of the mythical serpents who inhabited the underworld Isle of Naastrand, dripping venom on suffering sinners.’

Rosamund gazed down at their linked hands. ‘Mockery and criticism and cruelty over a long period does poison one’s confidence and could drive them crazy.’

He raised her hand to her lips and kissed it. ‘But those hurts are now in the past. Right now our concern must be that the new Queen of Scotland does not come to any harm.’