Unexpected Pleasures. Mary WineЧитать онлайн книгу.
affair and threw herself on the ground at the King’s feet to beg for mercy.” Biddeford waved his hand through the air. “To beg for her life, actually.”
Justina felt her own throat contracting. There was no way to ignore the rising horror that filled her; the look of enjoyment in Biddeford’s eyes doubled it.
“The clever woman managed to soothe the King’s ego by spouting some nonsense that she had argued with him only to distract him from his festering wound. She burned her books and told her ladies to follow her example. She therefore kept her head, for the moment.” He reached out to finger the thin stem of the wineglass. “She has been properly submissive ever since, a rather good example of how a woman should conduct herself if she wants to live.”
He took another sip from the wine. “However, Chancellor Wriothesley lost some of his influence over the King during the matter of the Queen’s investigation. Edward Seymour has been enjoying His Majesty’s company a little too much for my taste since then. Seymour will be hunting tomorrow. Make sure you ride with his party.”
“I thought you detested the Earl of Hertford. He must know that I am your servant.”
The viscount stood, his enjoyment fading. “I do hate him, which is why I want you to ride near the man. Since you spent so much time with Ryppon, it is possible the man will believe you have changed your allegiances, even if you can do nothing to change the legal fact that I am your guardian. Let him see you looking pitiful and needy. He’s been known to have a softness for pretty women. We shall exploit that if he is foolish enough to take the bait.”
Biddeford left, his manservant stepping forward to pick up the wineglass before following his master. Justina felt her heart beating softly, as though it was afraid to make too much noise. Now she realized what it was that she had felt around the Queen and princesses today. Fear, thick and choking, it hung over them like a fog that made everyone want to speak only in the most hushed of tones.
The chamber door closed and she winced at the sharp sound it made. Her heart instantly began beating faster, the feeling of being trapped tightening around her until she felt the need to run. Fast and as far as her legs might carry her away from the hideous man who had just invaded her chambers.
Of course that was the entire point of Biddeford’s visit tonight. He knew the art of intimidation well, understood how to upset any sense of balance she might gain for herself. A tremor traveled over her body, followed by another and still more until she was quivering. Fear, thick enough to taste, permeated the air.
The maids returned and helped her disrobe with nothing but pinched looks on their faces. Justina longed for darkness and sleep to give her relief from some of the dread, but when she lay in bed at last, in nothing but her chemise, there was no peace to be found. Instead another face rose from her mind, one that sent tears to burn her eyes. Her fearful mind reached for this memory, needing the strength that shone from his eyes.
Synclair ...
The man she had no right to long for or even think about. He was her opposite, everything honorable, while she was scarlet with sin. The knight had been sworn to serve Lord Ryppon and he had done so obediently. It had been Synclair who locked her away once her treachery was discovered, but he had not done so with disgust. The knight had boldly claimed a kiss from her that she still felt lingering on her lips.
You feel that kiss because you are too weak to ignore the memory. . .
So true, and still she allowed herself to sink into her mind’s recollection of the way the knight had felt against her. Somehow, she had never really thought that a man might feel so good, that she might take pleasure from his harder body. His kiss had been hard and punishing, demanding a response she had been powerless to deny him. For a few precious moments, her mouth had mimicked his, returning that kiss because she longed to, not out of obligation to her husband, or because she had been ordered to by the viscount. One sweet kiss that she recalled because it was genuine, but it was also a cruel torment because after the rush of sweet enjoyment, her mind returned to the times she had used her kisses to deceive. Misery wrapped around her as she saw Synclair standing so stiffly on the walls of Amber Hill, attending to his duty while always casting looks toward her tower-top room.
She had rejected him. Pushed him away and labeled him a blackard.
That was a kindness on her part.
Synclair was noble and pristine. He deserved a wife who matched his virtue with her own. It didn’t really matter anymore. She had left the knight far behind and the memory of his kiss was the only thing she would ever have of him.
The tears fell down her cheeks, but the darkness allowed her the luxury of not having to fight them. Instead she wept for the innocent bride she had been and the disappointment her husband had turned out to be. Knowing Synclair made her pain even worse for she knew that there were men worthy of the innocent she had been. There were knights who ladies might save themselves for and have their affections rewarded with faithfulness and honor.
Of course, that was not her lot, and the Church would tell her not to argue with God for what He had given her.
Well, she wanted to do much more than argue; she wanted to rail against the injustice of her life.
But most of all, she wanted to be worthy of Synclair, and she cried with the knowledge that she could never clean away enough of the sin clinging to her body to ever be good enough for him.
CHAPTER TWO
Attending court left little time for sleep. Justina awoke when the horizon was turning dusty rose. Her maids were blurry eyed and rubbed the sleep away from their eyes when they thought she wasn’t watching. Anyone who drew their pay from the Viscount Biddeford earned every silver penny, and the slump of both girls’ shoulders confirmed that they were enduring the man’s harsh demands.
A hunting dress was pressed and ready for her today. No doubt the maids had spent several hours ironing the dress and polishing her shoes for the morning hunt. Even the hat had its feathers steamed and curled and the wool newly brushed free of every speck of dirt. Like everything at court, hunting was yet another time to observe and be observed. Her dress must be perfect down to the smallest details.
How she loathed it. Putting on a pretty dress was fun so long as it was not another chore.
Justina stepped into hose and shoes once again, only this time the shoes were more practical, lacking the high heels. They were tied with sturdy leather, and her garters were wool instead of silk. The dress was much more comfortable. Instead of a slip set with stiff hoops, there was only an underskirt of soft wool to keep her legs warm. The skirt was hemmed just above her toes, and it lacked the pull on her back of the court gown she had endured the day before. Today she wore a doublet buttoned to her neck and a more loosely fit set of stays. There were no pearls to worry about snagging, and the hat the maids brought forward was felted wool and, beside the feathers, only a ribbon to enhance it.
She liked the dress, liked it full well.
Yes, the time in the borderland had certainly left its mark upon her. There had been no need of court fashion at Amber Hill, and Justina admitted that she had a fondness for the lack of pomp and ceremony.
“You’d best hurry, my lady. The earl will be letting his hounds loose soon.”
It was a bold thing for a maid to say to her mistress but Justina understood what prompted the woman to speak. If the viscount was displeased, they would all suffer. There was no difference between them, no matter who wore the finer clothing.
The maid had spoken truly, though. Justina neared the south gate and heard the hounds howling with excitement. The Earl of Hertford’s household was turned out in large numbers and a great many of the court were also in attendance. The yard was a mass of horses and pages all attempting to ready the animals for riding. The sky was turning rosy pink now with yellow and orange streaking through it. Dark clouds were beginning to drift overhead, promising a storm before afternoon. The sound of trumpets broke through the buzz of conversations and the hounds yelped in response. The large animals pulled against their grooms, knowing