Bessie Page 3

  CHAPTER THREE

  Castle Crump was built along elegant lines, not at all like its owner had been. Bessie put the thought aside the moment it surfaced. The entire keep had been built for comfort, not to keep out intruders. Neither drawbridge nor portcullis hampered their progress into the courtyard.

  Lights glowed from all fourteen front windows, easily lighting the yard. Bessie wasn’t looking about, though. She was watching Devon as the glow touched him. She smiled slightly at the surprise on his face.

  “Whose castle is this?”

  “I believe it belongs to the family of Crump. Perhaps you have heard of him?”

  “Portly man with no manners?”

  “Apt enough.” Bessie shuddered at the description.

  “Ah. He will set a good table then. The conversation probably won’t be the best. I look forward to the entertainment, though.”

  “It’s better than traveling through the night?”

  His eyes sharpened on her, although she was certain no light was penetrating her covering.

  “How is it you know of our welcome?”

  “Crump is...one of my relatives. Through...marriage.”

  “That description probably fits half the countryside.”

  Bessie ignored his answer. It wasn’t easy to sit conversing idly with him while her mind raced ahead. There wasn’t any at Crump who wouldn’t mark their mistress on sight. She made it a habit to visit her properties annually. She’d not been at Crump Castle in nearly a year though. She enjoyed the coldest months at Bargerelle’s estates in the South. She’d been planning her journey there when her royal summons had interrupted everything.

  The staff was also used to seeing their mistress and not the shrouded nonentity she was portraying. That was another point in her favor. She was going to need more if she were to keep Devon in ignorance, however.

  The door opened and their coachman shoved a step into place.

  “Have the owner informed that the Lord and Lady Hildebrand are visiting.” Devon spoke up before Bessie could.

  “Already seen to, my lord.”

  The fellow’s manners were improving. Bessie knew her husband had noticed. It was in the way he held his shoulders. She watched him step out without assisting his wife. Then, he compounded his lack of manners by walking toward the house as if he were unaccompanied.

  She set her chin and spoke to the coachman. “Would you see if a woman known as Roberta is available to assist me?”

  He tipped his hat in acknowledgment and Bessie sat back with a sigh.

  The efficient-looking woman who opened the door next tried to pierce the dark corner Bessie was hiding in. It was impossible to speak first, but she’d known it would be.

  “My lady? Your man says I’m to assist the Lady Hildebrand? Be you ill, Mum? I’ve many a potion that can cure the worst ague. Or a posset for your poor head if that is what ails—”

  “It’s me, Roberta,” Bess interrupted, lifting her veil over her forehead.

  “My own Bess? But—that man said...he said—”

  “Step in and shut the door, please. What I am about to say mustn’t go any further. I have to trust you on this. I’ve instructions for the rest of the staff, as well. They are not to be altered. I take it...you have met my new husband?”

  To her credit, Roberta hadn’t said a word. She entered the carriage and turned the doorknob behind her. Bessie knew how much silencing the curiosity had to be costing the maidservant. Nothing excited Roberta more than good gossip. Bessie watched now as Roberta sat primly on Devon’s bench and folded her hands.

  “Silence does not become you, Roberta. I know the questions are burning at your tongue. Come along, now that we’ve our privacy, ask away.”

  “I haven’t any questions, my lady.”

  “Oh, dear. I upset you. I’m sorry. Truly, I am. There wasn’t any other way.”

  “I am not upset. Why would you think such a thing? I simply sit down to a nice sup and my mistress, whom I have not seen in nigh a year, arrives to tell me that not only is she married again, which will shock a body, but that she’s got to trust my tongue, too. Like I wouldn’t keep every word regarding you to my very breast! You have not upset me. You’ve insulted me.”

  “Forgive me.”

  The woman snorted. “What’s this nonsense of arriving on the doorstep with a man like that, then?”

  “Like what?”

  “Are your eyes failing you? I forgot to shut my mouth. I was not the only one. Forgive me while I catch my breath.”

  “Oh. Bother. You’ve met him,” Bessie remarked in a flat tone.

  “That is your husband? Truth? How did you arrange that?”

  “The queen ordered it. Earlier today.”

  “Well! I am surprised at that. I am not the lone one. I’m afraid I’ll need smelling salts for the entire staff, I will.”

  “The staff is not to see him.”

  “’Tis a tad late for that, Lady Bess. Begging your pardon, but the entire servant wing is a-twitter as we speak. I will not get a lick of work from any of those girls for a sennight.”

  “Blast the man!”

  “You’re cursing your new husband for such God-given beauty? After wedding with Stansbury? I’ve more than questions for you. I’ve got a tad bit of advice, too.”

  “I don’t want advice. What I want is a nice hot bath, some victuals, and not one person in this entire castle to give away the fact that it belongs to his wife. Oh! I nearly forgot. I also want to keep every female out of spotting distance of him, too. Is that too much to ask?”

  “The moon might be easier, I am a-thinking.”

  “Just see that he’s given a state bedroom, and put me in the adjoining one.”

  “This marriage does not appear to have improved your temperament, my lady.”

  “Ask me that in the morn.” Bessie couldn’t help the wink she gave her servant before lowering her veil back into place.

  ~ ~ ~

  So...the entire staff thought him beautiful. Why should they differ from Queen Elizabeth’s court in that regard? All women had eyes. Of course, Bessie’s night watchmen and guards weren’t female, but they’d stood open-mouthed when Devon had passed them by, too. It was enough to make a newly-wedded bride wince.

  She’d noticed that Devon hadn’t even given it a passing thought.

  Bessie eyed the connecting door as she nibbled on a roll. Roberta had been efficient as always. The looks Bessie had received from some of her closest servants had given her more than a moment of reflection. She wasn’t used to being the brunt of another’s envy. They’d be stupid for harboring that emotion. Just as she was foolish to fancy the breathless anticipation she was feeling had anything to do with love.

  Devon hadn’t taken well to his new isolation. Bessie had Roberta’s gossip for that information. Seems the Lord Hildebrand found bathing without the assistance of a maidservant dissatisfactory in the extreme. He’d been quite vocal about it to the groomsman Bessie had assigned to him.

  She giggled as she watched the connecting door. She dusted the last of the crumbs from the front of her sheer nightgown. Lace frothed from the high neckline to the floor. It wasn’t enough to conceal her form through the open weave of the material, though.

  Bessie stood and debated her options.

  She could always surprise Lord Hildebrand with what his new bride actually looked like. Roberta had brushed Bessie’s hair until it crackled. She’d always thought the red color theatrical. She hadn’t cared much about concealing it. Very few women could claim hair this color. The cloud about her looked alive with its resemblance to a flame. She suspected the fact that Queen Elizabeth paid her wigmakers a small fortune to dye just such a color for her own use was the true reason Bessie wore head cover. She was under orders to do so.

  Grayish strands, indeed!

  The memory of what Devon had said brought another giggle to her lips. He hadn’t been able to see her mouth, either. Surely he’d lose no time accusing her of
using artifice...as Bargerelle had done, so many years before. Bessie had full lips that never seemed to lose their rose color. Against the paleness of her skin, it looked as theatrical as her hair.

  Large, hazel-flecked brown eyes regarded her in the mirror. She didn’t need artifice there, either. She’d been blessed with dark brows and lashes, too. She smiled deviously at what Lord Hildebrand would say when he saw his wife.

  If, he ever did.

  A heavy brocade robe lay across the bottom of her bed. Bess turned away from her looking-glass as she fastened her robe. Roberta had argued with her over wearing it.

  “‘It is your wedding night! What kind of woman wears so much material to bed at such a time?’” the maid had asked.

  Bessie wasn’t arguing. She was going to wear the heavy robe and she was having the brown dress laundered to wear tomorrow. She knew there wasn’t anything as ugly in the entire house. Roberta hadn’t needed to speak of it. Bess didn’t need the lecture. She already knew of the dress’ failings. What she needed was for her husband to want her, regardless of what she looked like.

  She knew what she wanted.

  She wanted the moon.

  The headpiece was tight against her forehead. It was due to her hair’s fullness when it was loose. She usually kept it braided down her back. Now, she had a bit of difficulty making certain the white linen flowed from her jeweled headband to cover her hair sufficiently. She’d made her decision. Devon Hildebrand wasn’t to have the slightest idea what his wife actually looked like. Not until he’d been proven worthy of it.

  The thought of that eventuality made her breath catch as she approached the connecting door. Her new husband was a handsome man, but his wife wasn’t ugly. It was a shame Devon had been gifted with such a superior sense of himself. Perhaps tonight would be the night that Devon saw beyond his own reflection in a looking-glass.

  She took a deep breath, calmed her trembling and opened the door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Devon looked up from contemplation of his fingernails as she entered. His face fell visibly. Bess tried not to let it bother her as he rolled his head back before looking back at his hands.

  “Hello, Devon.”

  It was difficult to find her own voice now that she was alone with him. The breathless sensation was stealing her courage and dampening her palms. Nor, was the sight of him encouraging. It had been whispered about court that the thick curls on the reigning favorite’s head were the result of a wigmaker’s artistry. Bessie now knew that for a falsehood. He hadn’t fully dried his hair before gaining the bed. Strands of dark hair were starting to coil atop his shoulders. Bessie choked as she realized he wasn’t wearing a nightshift.

  He had the sheets hooked beneath his arms. Her eyes widened at the sight. He had a large chest. Muscled. She wondered when and how he’d gained that. Devon hadn’t so much as lifted a sword since arriving at the palace. Bessie was fairly certain of that gossip. Taunting him about the use of padding his doublet had been stupid. He didn’t need to accentuate that portion of himself.

  Bessie colored at the memory of the rest of her taunt. She had to glance away to compose herself.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “I’m your wife.”

  “You are my never-ending nightmare,” he told his palms.

  She watched him look at each one in turn before glancing back at her.

  “You’ve a reason for standing there?”

  “It is our wedding night.”

  “I’ve not drunk enough ale to be forgetting that, Mistress...although I shall remedy it shortly. Regards.”

  Bessie watched him reach for the flagon on the small table next to him. He lifted it to his lips and gulped a healthy draught.

  “There are certain requirements of a wedding night, Devon.”

  She swallowed as he pulled the tankard slowly from his mouth. Green eyes appraised her as he deliberately licked his lips. Bessie was grateful for the concealment of her entire outfit as her eyes widened. She couldn’t have hidden her open mouth, the strange tightening of her breasts, nor the blush that warmed her. He tongued the moisture from his lips with a gesture that made her knees wobble.

  “Good Lord. I do believe you’re serious.”

  He reached to replace his drink. The movement of his body beneath the bedding stilled her tongue and robbed her senses. She had to look away or remain mute. Her gaze moved to the region above his headboard.

  “No sharp answers? No teasing about my...youthful appearance? Perhaps you’d enjoy remarking on my use of padding to improve myself? No?”

  He was deliberately flexing his arms and chest as he said it. Bessie swallowed about the strange obstruction in her throat. He was too self-assured and cocky for his own good. With good reason, she reminded herself.

  “Perhaps...I spoke a bit...hastily,” she stammered.

  “Perhaps.”

  She shouldn’t have come. It was painfully obvious even to the love-besotted fool she was rapidly turning into. “Perhaps I wasn’t the lone one who spoke in haste. Have you considered that?”

  “You are offending my sensibilities now.”

  He sneered as he said it. She didn’t have to drop her gaze to see it, his tone made it simple to envision.

  “You are not helping the situation, Devon.”

  “Need I point out that I am not the one in your bedchamber?”

  The absurdity of it gave her pause. She’d been chased about the conjugal bed by the ancient Earl of Stansbury until he’d collapsed, yet, right now? With a man whose arms she’d leap into, she was being shunned. She took a deep breath and looked down. He’d not know of her inability to meet his eyes.

  “You are my husband. You have certain responsibilities.”

  “I knew I should have chosen the Tower.”

  “Does this mean you’re refusing me?”

  “Bluntness becomes you, my lady wife, but no. I’ll not have it said that Lord Hildebrand was unable to consummate his marriage. There may be those willing to sell rumors of my impotence to the crown, itself. I will not give her the satisfaction. ’Twas she who chose the harpy to wed me to.”

  “You’ve a far blunter tongue than I. I’d not tell a soul of my fate as your wife, be it the worst horror I’ve yet to experience.”

  “You’d have me believe marriage to me is your worst horror? I’d heard more of your past husbands to believe that. Beg off these words and lay with me. I’m as fit as any to withstand whatever you plan.”

  He punctuated his words by lifting the cover. Bessie stumbled back from what appeared as an open invitation. The hooded eyelids and tight cheekbones gave away his disgust at it.

  “I’d naught planned other than the lifting of this veil.”

  Her whisper was barely audible. That’s what came of trying to make sensible words when glimpses of what could only be a naked thigh met her gaze. It didn’t help that Devon’s leg appeared to be as sculpted as the rest of him.

  “Is that the way you usually rid yourself of your husbands?”

  He let the bedding drop as he asked it, one eyebrow cocked enquiringly. Bessie had to swallow hard at the sight. Being tongue-tied wasn’t going to gain her what she wanted, but the moon looked easier to accomplish.

  “My other husbands were men.”

  He gave a slight whistle at her words. “Such a shame it must be to be saddled with me, then. You expect me to believe you long more to find yourself an older gent to satisfy your lusts on, then? Well? Why don’t you find one? I’d not stop you.”

  She colored at his crudity.

  “I did not come here for my lusts.”

  “You expect me to believe that, too? An oft-wed woman such as yourself? Please, Mistress, credit me with a small bit of sense.”

  She nipped her tongue to still the instant reply. She felt like thanking him. She no longer felt the breathlessness. It would be more satisfactory right now to hit him with something. With that thought uppermost in her mind, it was an easy matt
er to give him her full attention. He might be the most handsome man ever birthed. He may also have a physique that would awaken all the emotions she’d thought long-dead. Unfortunately, he was also the most unfeeling, crass, selfish, and uncaring man she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

  “I have not got all night to await your pleasure, Mistress.” He settled down among his pillows and regarded her with folded arms.

  “I’ve already remarked on your witless state, Devon. I really wish you would refrain from proving it further.”

  Those green eyes narrowed. She’d angered him. It was clear by the way he tensed beneath his quilts and the way his nostrils flared.

  “You call me that without cause. I will not allow it farther.”

  “I have cause. Isn’t our marriage proof?”

  “You said it yourself. This marriage is punishment. As was my treatment last night. If they’d given me any time...perhaps this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Were you arrested?”

  “Arrested? No. What reason would they give for that?”

  He shoved a pillow to the floor as he said it. Bessie’s eyebrows rose. He didn’t think writing love notes to another would be offensive to the queen who adored him?

  “You truly weren’t arrested?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Where were you then?”

  “In my rooms. The guards came for me. I don’t know how many there were, though. Too many to fight. I do know that.”

  “You know how to fight?”

  “I am a trained knight, dear lady.”

  “Truly? That raises you in my esteem. Not much, but it does.”

  “Is there anything that would do the same for you?”

  Bessie regarded him for long moments. “You may have been blessed with a handsome countenance, Devon, but the fates seemed to have stopped there. It has been balanced with an unpleasant and selfish disposition.”

  “What do you mean ‘may have’?” he asked.

  Bessie sighed loudly. “You see? That’s the only part of my words you heard.”

  “Oh, I heard the unpleasant and selfish part, too. ’Tis entertaining love-talk you enjoin. Highly original. Are you trying to unman me? Oh, I forget. You think I padded my codpiece, too.”