The Scandalous Duchess. Anne O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ the mourning black that he did not like. It was in my cowardly mind to keep my eye on my work, as if stitching the border of an altar cloth would save me from humiliation.

      Would he offer me the position I needed? Or would he continue to pursue the startling proposal of the previous day?

      Not in public, he won’t, I castigated myself. You are a fool, Katherine!

      And indeed there was no need for my fears for it became self-evident, as his regard moved rapidly on from me to the other occupants of the room, that my worries were not his priority.

      This morning there were matters of higher business to attend to. The Duke was uncharacteristically brusque, with a line between his brows, even though he found time to smile at the children, kiss the cheek of Philippa and Elizabeth and brush his hand over Henry’s already tousled hair. The smile was, it had to be said, a bleak affair. I rose to my feet, putting aside the sewing, and, with Lady Alice and Alyne, made the requisite curtsy.

      ‘I will be away.’ His attention was for Lady Alice. ‘I leave the children in your care, Alice, as ever.’

      He was dressed for travel in wool and leather, the metal plates of his brigandine masked in fine velvet. In such a garment he was not travelling far.

      ‘Is it bad news, John?’ Lady Alice asked.

      ‘It could be better.’ It was impossible to mistake the grimace. ‘My brother Edward’s health does not improve and the King is…’ The Duke shrugged.

      We all knew of this terrible cause for concern. The Prince, heir to the throne and with a reputation second to none on the battlefield, was come home from affairs in Aquitaine, gravely ill, and his son, Richard, no older than Henry. Lionel, the King’s second son, was dead in Antwerp these last three years. King Edward’s own powers had waned in the months since Queen Philippa’s death. Suddenly the smooth security of the royal inheritance was under attack: it was not a good prospect for England to have both King and heir ailing and the future king so small a child. Which left the Duke in a delicate situation.

      Some said he had his own ambitions for the English crown, for no man of sense would place a wager on the longevity of either the King or the Prince. If the worse came to the worst, better an able man at thirty-two years and in his prime to wear the crown than a child of fewer years than fingers of one hand.

      Looking at him now, at the authority inherent in his stance from his ordered hair to the fine leather of his boots, I wondered where his ambitions did lie. I did not know.

      ‘The situation in Aquitaine and Gascony rests on a knife-edge,’ he continued, as if picking up my thoughts. ‘The progress of the English troops, without direct leadership—it’s not good. I’m going to Kennington to talk with the Prince. I’ll need to stay if it’s decided that I lead an expedition. We badly need a victory against France, and it may be that Parliament must be summoned to finance such a lengthy campaign. It will not be popular, even though a victory’s in everyone’s mind…’

      He was already moving towards the door, as if the burden of these decisions was driving him into action.

      ‘I’ll send word when I know my future movements.’

      So, after shaking my world into disorder, he would leave without making any decision about me. My mind leaped crossly with indecision.

      I really need to know where I stand.

      It is not appropriate for you to trouble him with your inconsequential needs when the government of England rests on his shoulders.

      I followed him to the door.

      ‘My lord?’

      He turned his head, his hand on the latch.

      ‘Lady Katherine.’ Impatient to be gone, yet as he took in my appearance not without a glint in his eye. ‘Still garbed like a winter raven, I see.’

      ‘And, as a widow, will continue to be until the year of my mourning is ended,’ I replied tartly.

      ‘As you will, lady.’

      Oh, he was preoccupied, and I bristled beneath my widow’s black. If the royal duke had been suffering yesterday from a blast of inappropriate lust for my person, it had been a remarkably short-lived one. Which was hardly flattering to me.

      ‘Lady Katherine…?’ His brows flattened. ‘My time is precious.’

      So I asked him one question. The one question that had troubled me, to which I needed to have the answer. Not why he had impugned my honour. Not if he would consider a position for me—a respectable position—in the household of his new duchess, or even an inferior position in one of his other establishments. But the question that had teased my female interest.

      ‘My lord, why did you laugh at me yesterday? Was it all a piece of mockery?’

      For if he had been amused, perhaps his intent had been to disconcert me, simply to see what a respectable widow, given the chance to become an unrespectable whore, would say. I could not believe him guilty of such dishonour, yet there had to be a reason that I could not see.

      ‘Did my discomfiture amuse you?’ I repeated.

      He seemed to consider this for an inordinate length of time. Then, when his stare had disconcerted me so that my cheeks were flushed the pink of summer eglantine: ‘Amuse me?’ He shook his head, his mouth settling in a wry twist. ‘I was not amused at all.’ There was no laughter in him today, rather a lick of temper.

      ‘You laughed at me, my lord.’

      ‘Then I must ask your pardon, Lady Katherine.’ It did not sound like an apology. ‘If it was laughter, it was because it seemed to me impossible that it should happen twice in a lifetime.’

      ‘What should? What should not happen twice?’ I asked, as confused as ever, refusing to be intimidated by that penetrating regard.

      His hand fell from the latch and he turned to face me fully as he lowered his voice. At least he had the consideration to do that.

      ‘That the woman at whose feet I would kneel in knightly adoration should refuse me outright.’

      ‘My lord…!’

      I simply did not know how to respond as, cursed with fair skin, my face flamed even brighter. I was saved from further embarrassment only when William Parr pushed open the door to appear behind the Duke’s shoulder.

      ‘Your escort is ready, my lord,’ the squire advised.

      ‘One moment, if you will.’

      But Will Parr, well used to the Duke’s manner, persisted. ‘Forgive me, my lord. A message has just been delivered, that the King too will travel to Kennington. He requests that you accompany him.’

      ‘Of course. I’ll come now.’

      He held out his hand to me, the jewels stitched on the cuff of his glove glinting, leaving me with no response but to put my hand there on the costly leather. With a curt little bow, he touched his lips to my fingers.

      ‘It would be unforgivable of me to make you an object of СКАЧАТЬ