Suzanne Robinson (15 page)

Galen winced as he rubbed his leg, then cursed. How could he have known Aymer Jennings had been murdered? Everyone thought he’d drowned. The signs gathered by the men who tried to find him had indicated such a mishap, and the assumption had never been questioned. But now he knew the truth.

Equally as important was how to keep Honor from revealing his secret. She wouldn’t mean to do him harm, but she was such a bundle of impetuousness
and calamity. Galen straightened, working his bruised fingers as he faced the truth. The de Marlowes had ways of dealing with accidental exposures such as this. Enemies who learned the secret were eliminated. In this generation there had been few such. His brother Simon had been forced to kill one in self-defense.

Honor was no enemy, and she was a woman. Marriage was the only way to ensure a woman’s silence. Many generations of his mother’s family had employed it. It was how his mother had married his father. Once an outsider became a member of the family, he or she shared the risks that came with these special gifts. Not every child possessed a gift, but his mother’s five sons had all inherited it.

Galen had always expected one of his feckless younger brothers to be the one to get himself into trouble this way. Simon would be furious. Macaire would laugh at him. Fabron would smile at him knowingly. And Fulk? Fulk would keep his distance, his dignified, polite distance. But they would all know, and he wouldn’t blame them for resenting this risk he’d forced upon them.

“Blessed God, forgive me,” he muttered. “What else can I do?”

He would have to marry Honor Jennings. He had to keep a tight rein on her impetuous tongue. No one could do that but a husband. She might well become even angrier once she had time to fully realize how shabbily Aymer, the arse, had
treated her regarding marital intimacy. She might blame Galen for forcing her to see the truth.

People who had been hurt often struck out at the nearest target, regardless of culpability. He’d seen Honor when she was in a rage; she might blurt out anything if angry enough. But if she were his wife, she’d be subject to him. She would have to keep any secret he wished her to keep, and she would want to protect any children they had.

Pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes, Galen fought the jolt of fear caused by the thought of marriage. A vicious black whirlwind of terror scourged his heart. He braced his legs apart, pressed his hands against the ivy clinging to the wall and fought the onslaught. Panting, tortured and furious with himself, he remained there in the darkness until at last he mastered himself. Slowly he stood erect, fumbled with the short cloak that hung from one shoulder, and tried the door latch again. This time it opened easily. Had it ever been blocked?

Once in the royal garden, Galen hurried back to the hall, where the banquet was winding down. Music sounded from the minstrel gallery, and soon dancing would begin. Galen didn’t see Honor at first, but then he spotted Sir Walter’s silver head bobbing and shaking in the midst of a group of noblemen. At the edge of this group he glimpsed the edge of a blue gown embroidered with gold stars. Honor.

Galen shouldered his way through the crowds to the corner of the hall where Honor and her father were. As he approached, he recognized the men around Sir Walter. Isidore Jennings, Lord Andrew Swan, and Sir Lionel Titchwell had backed the older man into a corner, and lurking at the edge of the group, casting a lascivious eye at Honor, was Drogo Scattergood. Galen could see the spittle at the corners of the man’s mouth from where he stood.

“De Marlowe.”

Galen started out of his concentration and bowed to the king, who was making a progress around the hall with the queen on his arm. Edward waved a hand at the courtiers around him. They stepped back, and the king summoned Galen to him and lowered his voice.

“Hark you that brawl simmering in the corner over there?”

“You mean that pack of dogs around Sir Walter Stafford, Sire?”

“Aye, of course you’ve noticed. I’ll not have a scene at my banquet. Do you understand?” Edward cast a wary glance at his brother, the Duke of Clarence. “I see my dear brother is exchanging pleasantries with King Louis’ ambassador. No doubt he’s asking for a few thousand men with which to topple me from my throne.” The king glanced back at Sir Walter. “This is no time for a feud among that many powerful barons, de Marlowe.
Find a solution and employ it at once. You have my permission. Get the girl married and her lands safely disposed of.”

“But, majesty, I—” Galen’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure the king must hear it. He forced the words out. “Sire, I wish to ally myself to Sir Walter.”

“What? God’s teeth, you make a jest.”

Queen Elizabeth joined them. “A jest, your highness?”

Edward gave a loud bark of a laugh and took the queen’s hand. “A mighty jest indeed, de Marlowe. Bess, my sweet, do you know what de Marlowe just said? He said he wished to marry little Honor Jennings. It hasn’t been many hours since he begged me to match her with anyone who could get her away from him.”

The queen turned her golden head in Galen’s direction. Galen bowed low to cover the fact that his face was scarlet. When he straightened, he found himself under the scrutiny of a pair of calculating green eyes.

“Sire,” the queen said. “If Lord de Marlowe has spoken of an alliance after years of avoiding one …”

The king was already studying Galen. Galen looked at his boots and prayed no one else had heard the king’s remarks.

“Come here, de Marlowe.”

Galen knelt before the king.

“It’s as I thought, is it not?”

“Sire?”

“You’re in love with the girl.”

Galen pressed his lips together. “The alliance is a good one for both families. Does Your Highness not wish for the union between two loyal families?”

“I’ve nothing against the match, Galen, except that I could reward your service to me with a far richer prize than Honor Jennings.”

“To me, Sire, there is no more valuable prize.”

King Edward put a hand on Galen’s shoulder. “Are you certain, my friend?” He nodded toward the men surrounding Sir Walter. “You’ll make powerful enemies if you take her away from that lot.”

Galen felt cold and hot at the same time. He nodded. “Yes, Sire, I’m certain.”

“Very well. You have my permission, and you may speak to Sir Walter.” The king offered his arm to the queen. “And do it quickly, before Jennings or one of the others causes trouble.”

Galen rose and inclined his head. “Yes, Sire.”

The queen passed by him and gave him a sly smile. “I had not thought to find in you such perception in your choice of a new wife, Lord de Marlowe. God grant you much happiness.”

“Your Highness,” Galen murmured.

He kept his head lowered until the king and queen passed, then he walked swiftly the rest of the way across the hall to the cornered Sir Walter Stafford.

“Peace, good gentles,” Sir Walter was saying. “I have but one daughter, and she can’t marry all of you.”

“I have a right to be consulted,” Isidore Jennings said. “She obviously has renounced her vows, never meant to keep them. I shall be much offended if Drogo Scattergood is not the man.”

Sir Lionel Titchwell snarled at Jennings. “Hold your tongue. I was the first to offer for her.”

“No, I was,” said Andrew Swan.

Sir Walter looked from one man to the other uneasily.

Honor stood on tiptoe to see over his shoulder. “I’ve told you over and over, Sir Lionel. I remain true to my vows.”

“Ha!”

Isidore ignored her. “I demand the right to put forth an offer, Stafford. Are you going to give me offense?”

Galen spoke up. “You’re giving me offense, Jennings.”

“Not you again,” Isidore growled.

“What has he to do with this?” Drogo Scattergood asked in his whining voice.

“I, good sirs, am the only suitor among you with the king’s blessing,” Galen said.

All the men gaped at him, and Honor peered around her father’s shoulder, her blue eyes round.
“What?”

“Being the king’s favorite doesn’t give you the right to interfere in privy matters,” Jennings
snapped. “Go away, de Marlowe. I’m about to arrange a match between my cousin Scattergood and Lady Honor.”

Aware that Honor was gaping at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted horns and a forked tail, Galen shouldered Andrew Swan aside and joined Sir Walter. “Now, making such an arrangement would be offensive indeed since I’ve just come to offer for Lady Honor myself, and as I said, with the king’s blessing.”

Silence spread from the center of the group outward. Several people who had been watching the exchange stirred. Then the whispering began and rippled through the court. Galen paid it no heed, but he glanced at Honor, willing her to keep silent. Foolish wish.

“But I’m a vowess,” she cried. “What fresh trickery is this?”

“Hush, daughter,” Sir Walter said. He eyed Galen for a long moment, then nodded.

“Father!”

Sir Walter turned on Honor. “Be silent, or leave. That is my last word to you.” Honor’s mouth snapped shut, and she gave Galen a glance of confused horror.

Galen looked at Sir Walter with new respect. When the need was urgent, he could be firm.

“I welcome your offer, de Marlowe.” He glanced at the noblemen surrounding them.

Galen joined him in staring and allowed his hand to drift to the hilt of his sword. No one was
going to fight in the royal hall, but the implication was clear. Anyone who challenged him was taking a grave risk. Jennings, Scattergood, and the rest retreated. This at least was one advantage. He would be able to protect her now. When the men were gone Honor slipped around her father and confronted him.

Hissing in a low voice, she said, “By the saints, what madness is this?”

“Smile, Honor. The whole court is watching.”

Her lips stretched into a semblance of a smile. “What are you doing?”

Sir Walter stepped between them and took his daughter’s hand. He placed it in Galen’s and covered Galen’s hand with his.

“This isn’t unexpected, de Marlowe. I began to suspect you had it in mind the moment you offered to help me find Honor a husband, back at Castle Stafford.”

“You did?” Galen asked faintly.

Sir Walter leaned close. “I saw you with her through the window while I was talking to the gardener. I vow I never beheld two more enamored young people in my life. Of course, we must negotiate. You’ll do right by my daughter or you’ll not have her, mark my words.” Sir Walter turned to answer inquiries from several friends.

Honor was looking at Galen differently now. He didn’t understand why she was staring at him with such a wondrous expression.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

She looked around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “What my father said. Is it true? Were you but pretending to help Father make an alliance when all along you intended to make an offer yourself?”

Galen opened his mouth, then closed it. Whatever he said would be wrong. To say yes was a lie; to say no would greatly offend her. His guilt was growing by the minute. He knew she desired him, but she also spent most of her time angry with him. The whole situation was a disaster. At least there was something he could tell her that was true.

“Honor, I have already shown you many testaments to my desire for you.” He should tell her immediately that this, like any other marriage among people of their rank, was essentially an alliance. It was the right thing to do. His other reason must be revealed when they were safely alone. He was going to explain, then her eyes began to shine.

“Oh, Galen.”

His mouth had opened, but the words he’d planned died on his lips when he heard those two words. She said them like a prayer, a prayer that had been answered. To his everlasting shame, he said nothing when her hand moved, with hesitation and timidity. Slowly it reached out, hung there before him, a small peace offering. No, more
than a peace offering. Galen suddenly understood as he looked into those eyes, those shining, love-struck eyes. Honor Jennings was offering her heart.

Mute with self-loathing, Galen took her hand and brushed it with his lips.

Honor drew close. “I didn’t know. You were as confused as I. Neither of us could admit what we felt, but you’re wiser. You discovered the truth first. Was it in the plum orchard? Of course it was. I ask foolish questions, and I’m babbling.”

She squeezed his hand and looked up at him with an open admiration that made him want to howl with frustration.

“I will do everything in my power to be a good wife,” she said. Biting her lip, she continued. “You were kind to praise me in the orchard, but I know I have faults. We both do, but we can improve together.” She smiled up at him shyly. “I’ll even admit I can be quite stubborn. There, I’ve said it.”

“Oh, Honor, don’t.” He was growing more miserable by the moment. He dropped her hand. “You’ll do excellent well the way you are.” He looked away from her glowing face. “I must go.”

“Why?”

He thought quickly. “The king. I must speak with the king, and my family too. You don’t know what my brothers are like.”

“And then you’ll return.”

He was already backing away. “Not tonight. Tomorrow. Tell your father I will call tomorrow.”

“Galen, don’t go.”

“Duty, Honor. The king is waiting.”

He rushed from her as if hellhounds were after him. He lost himself in the crowds of courtiers, then left the hall without looking back. He didn’t want to see her bewilderment, her disappointment. And if he saw hurt in her eyes, he didn’t think he could bear it.

“God forgive me. What have I done?”

T
HIRTEEN