Читать книгу The Bride Thief - Susan Paul Spencer - Страница 9

June 1426

Three days left. Only three. I wonder if she’ll ever forgive me?

The view from his chamber window did nothing to ease the tension that had shadowed Sir Justin Baldwin like a plague for the past month, since he received the missive sent by his brother, the earl of Siere. London, spread out before him like a crazily patterned tapestry, wasn’t the sort of inspiration that gave a man—any man—an overwhelming feeling of confidence. Of course, it didn’t help that he hated cities and towns. If he’d been home at Talwar, or even at Briarstone, everything would be different. With space to move and clean air to breathe, he might be able to think clearly enough to avoid his chosen course, but here, bound tight in London’s stench and madness, he could barely think at all.

She’ll forgive me. She must. If I had more time to woo her gently, I would. But with only three days left…

Pushing from the window out of which he had spent the past half hour gazing, Justin moved to stand before the polished steel mirror in his rented chamber. His dim reflection gave him little pleasure. His hair was overlong, he thought, frowning and running his fingers through the dark strands to smooth them. He should have had it cut—would have had it cut, if he’d had more notice. But with so little forewarning about the match that had been arranged for him, he’d been fortunate to achieve London as quickly as he had. Not that it mattered. The bride who’d been chosen for him had greeted him with less enthusiasm than Justin, himself, exhibited.

“I owe you for this, Hugh,” Justin said aloud, softly. “I most assuredly do. Could you not at least have chosen a willing lady for me?”

A knock fell on his chamber door, and at his spoken invitation, it opened.

“Good day, Chris,” he said in greeting as Sir Christian Rowsenly, the lord of Briarstone, made his way into the room, dressed in finery that equaled Justin’s.

“Almost time,” said Sir Christian. “Are you ready?”

Ready? Justin thought silently. Oh, yes, he was ready, whether he wished to be or not. If he failed in this final attempt, everything he had spent so many years working for would be taken away. Lost to him completely. All for the lack of a bride. Thus the duke of Gloucester had commanded, at the earl of Siere’s bidding, and thus it would be.

“Yes,” he said, bending to pick up his light dress sword. With a sure movement, he sheathed the beautiful weapon, which had been skillfully fashioned by his own hand. “I’m ready. ‘Twould not help our cause to keep Lady Evelyn waiting. My friend,” he said as he approached Sir Christian, setting a hand upon the other man’s shoulder, “I thank you for all you have offered to do to aid me in this matter. Only promise that you will take every care this day. If Lady Evelyn or her father should discover our intent before we have done, I will not want you sharing my rightful punishment.”

Sir Christian’s smile was fully amused. “You don’t think I’ll let myself be caught? Come, Justin, be serious, I pray.”

“I know you’ll be your excellent self, as you ever are,” Justin replied with a weary sigh, “but as everything that could have gone wrong with Lady Evelyn has, I fear I’m not optimistic about the rest of this unhappy venture.”

“Never fear,” Sir Christian said reassuringly, motioning for Justin to proceed him through the open door. “All will be well. You set your mind and skills toward charming the lovely, stubborn Lady Evelyn, and I’ll dedicate mine toward taking care of the rest. Depend upon it.”

An hour later found both men bowing, by turns, over the hand that Lady Evelyn smilingly offered.

“My lord, Sir Justin,” she said. “How kind of you to visit me again, so soon.”

The words had their intended effect, despite her gentle manner, and Justin inwardly cringed. He felt like a damned dog, sitting by her door night and day, and could only imagine how Lady Evelyn felt—probably like some prize calf at a fair being handed away to the highest bidder. She’d borne the matter admirably, and much more kindly than he would have done. Finding herself so suddenly betrothed to a complete stranger by the duke of Gloucester’s command must have been, for a beauty of her renown, quite an unpleasant shock. Until now she’d held court to an impressive assemblage of admirers, every one of them more suitable as a husband than Justin knew himself to be.

She was beautiful, educated, intelligent. At least Hugh had done that much in choosing a wife for him. And yet, Justin wondered if Lady Evelyn knew what she would lose if she married him. Talwar, with its simple comforts that appealed to Justin’s own nature perfectly, was like a stable compared to the grand wealth of this home where Lady Evelyn had been raised. Was that why she so firmly resisted the match? He was afraid it was only a small part of the reason.

“Thank you for receiving us, my lady,” he said, adding to her father, Baron Hersell, Sir Myles, “and thank you, my lord, for your long suffering in this unusual matter.”

Then, aware that the action would probably be viewed as extraordinarily rude, Justin walked past Lady Evelyn and Sir Myles, fully ignoring their surprise, and strode across the room to where another lady, dark-haired and plainly dressed, sat at a small table behind a stack of large leather-bound books. Seeing his approach, which she’d clearly expected even less than Lady Evelyn and Sir Myles, the girl flushed brightly and clumsily slammed shut the particular book in which she’d been making entries.

“Lady Isabelle.” Justin took the cold fingers she shakily proffered. Her heavy skirt caught beneath her chair as she awkwardly attempted to stand, causing her to stumble forward. Justin set a hand upon her waist to steady her, and the girl’s color became a fiery red.

“Sir Justin,” she murmured with what sounded like horror, her sapphire eyes wide.

Justin bowed over her hand. “It is a pleasure to see you again. I hope this day finds you well?”

“Oh, yes. Yes. Thank you.”

“Will you have a glass of wine, my lord?” Lady Evelyn asked behind him, displeasure clear in her tone.

Justin smiled into Lady Isabelle’s worried eyes. “Will we have the joy of your company, as well, this day, my lady?” he asked, holding fast the fingers that she attempted to tug free.

“Oh—I don’t think—”

“I fear that my niece is too occupied with her work to join us, Sir Justin,” Sir Myles stated over Justin’s shoulder. “Isn’t that so, Isabelle?”

“Isn’t she always?” Justin murmured, too low for anyone but Lady Isabelle to hear. He released her and stepped away, turning to Sir Myles with a pleasant smile.

“Have you received the satisfaction you sought from the duke?” he asked as they walked together toward the table where Lady Evelyn was filling golden goblets with wine.

“I regret to say, my lord, that I have not. I spoke with Duke Humphrey yesterday, as I promised you I would, but I remain unconvinced of the legality of his dictates. To that end, I’ve sent a missive to France for the duke’s brother, John of Lancaster.”

Justin’s brow furrowed. “John of Lancaster? How can he have any say in the matter? His concerns are only for France, as England’s regent there. Surely he would not gainsay the duke of Gloucester in any such domestic matter as this.”

“This may be true,” the baron admitted kindly, accepting the goblet his daughter handed him. “Nonetheless, I will await word from him until I make my final decision.”

“But that may be many weeks, my lord. I have been commanded to wed before this month finds its end, three days from now, else I lose all that I hold as my own.”

Sir Myles’s smile never wavered. “I understand, my lord, and I appreciate your concerns, but I cannot—will not—force my daughter to wed you or any man unless she freely consents to do so. It was her mother’s final wish that Evelyn be allowed to have a husband of her own choosing. ’Tis an oddity, s’truth, but I gave my oath of honor and cannot turn from it.”

Justin’s steady gaze moved to Lady Evelyn’s lovely face. “And you, my lady. Every day for the past month I have come, asking the same question. Has your heart experienced a change since yesterday? Do you have a different answer for me?”

The expression in her eyes told him that he was the most desirable man on God’s earth, while her lips said, “You must know how flattered I am by your declarations, my lord. I can think of no finer fate than to be wife to a man such as you are. And yet, if I only had a little more time to think on the matter… You could not wish me to come to you, to wed you, unless I can bring my whole heart?”

There it was, Justin thought. The same as every day. They must believe him to be a fool ten times over. He felt the trap being laid out as surely as if Lady Evelyn and Sir Myles were spreading a net on the floor beneath his feet. They were a cunning pair, he admitted, but come the morrow, they would know who it was had played their game the better.

“Nay. I would not.”

“Perhaps,” Sir Myles said lightly, “if Evelyn could be more certain of your regard for her, Sir Justin, such a step might become easier for her to take. After all, you were chosen for each other by the duke and your brother, the earl of Siere. It is understandable that any maid, under such like circumstances, would question the sincerity of her betrothed’s feelings.”

“I have come every day to ask Lady Evelyn to become my wife,” Justin told him. “If, after twenty-seven proposals, my desire to wed her is not evident, I cannot think that a hundred more would make the matter clearer.”

“But you would not be making such proposals if ‘twere not for the duke’s command,” Sir Myles argued, while Lady Evelyn blushed prettily. “If there were some way that you might make your own feelings in the matter more sincere, I’m certain Evelyn would feel secure in becoming your wife.”

Justin’s eyebrows rose. “More sincere?”

“Certainly,” Sir Myles said pleasantly, setting his wine goblet aside. “If you truly desire to make Evelyn your wife, could you not prove it by perhaps gifting her with some evidence of that desire? The dowry she brings to her marriage will be exceptional. A suitable marriage gift from you, in turn, would be proof of your consideration for her as a bride.”

“Father, please,” Lady Evelyn protested. “You make it sound like the veriest extortion. I’ll not be bought, nor bargained for. I want only to be certain of Sir Justin’s honest hope to wed with me, nothing more. Is it too much to ask, when we are to be bound together for life?”

“Nay, of course not,” Justin assured her, praying that he sounded fully sincere. He had never been good at plotting and deception, but if he failed in this, all would be lost.

“Perhaps,” Christian said gently, putting his own wine goblet down, “we should leave Lady Evelyn and Sir Justin to discuss the matter more privately.” He turned to Sir Myles. “I’ve been fascinated by the architecture of your fine home, my lord. Would you be so kind as to let me examine it more closely? There are a good many improvements here that I should like to have made at Briarstone, and I would very much appreciate it if you could explain the workings of some of them.”

With a bow, Sir Myles acquiesced. “A wise consideration, my lord. Indeed, perhaps Sir Justin and my daughter will be able to find their way more readily without company present. I will, of course, leave Isabelle.”

“Father, nay,” Lady Evelyn said quickly. “We have no need of an attendant.”

Sir Myles gave her a wry smile. “Haven’t you, my dear?” To Justin he said, “We will leave you for half an hour’s time. No more.”

“I am grateful,” Justin replied. “Thank you, my lord. You will have no cause for worry. I vow it on my honor as a knight of the realm.”

The baron was apparently reassured, and shortly left the chamber with Christian following behind. Justin waited until they had gone before turning his attention to Lady Evelyn, who, with a smile, had taken the liberty of refilling his wine goblet.