Betrayal (Book 2: Time Enough to Love) (4 page)

“My God! What has happened?” He laid a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, only to be pulled into a crushing embrace.

“I am undone, Thomas. I am undone!” Geoffrey’s whisper rasped in his ear.

He stood back to look into Geoffrey’s eyes. “Sir Roland?”

“Died the morning after you left me.” Geoffrey regained his self-control, and his voice became matter-of-fact. His hands were pulled tightly behind his back, his expression as of stone.

“I am truly sorry—” His condolences were cut short, stopped by Geoffrey’s look of contempt.

“Do not be. I would trade places with Roland this minute and count myself the luckier one. At least then I might be in heaven, with hope of...” He trailed off, heaving a great sigh that seemed almost to take the life from him.

There was silence as they stood on the stoop, Geoffrey apparently lost in some personal hell. His friend’s depth of feeling for his brother puzzled Thomas. Although Geoffrey had always respected his elder brother, theirs had not been a close relationship. He shrugged. As an only child, he had never experienced the grief of such a loss. His deep feeling of friendship for Geoffrey, however, gave him an inkling of the anguish his friend must have been experiencing. Should any mishap befall Geoffrey, his own mourning would be as profound.

He sighed at the thought and shifted his weight, causing him to notice the carriage still waiting, with Lady Mary ready to alight. He made a move in that direction then turned back to Geoffrey, frowning.

“If Roland has been dead these seven days, why summon his betrothed to Longford tonight? Surely the funeral was performed days past?” He blanched, aghast at the thought of what the July heat might have done to Sir Roland over the last week.

“Yes, it was carried out the day after his death.” Geoffrey’s voice was flat, distant.

“Then why have I brought Lady Mary here?” He simply could not reason it out.

“I am to marry her tonight.” Geoffrey’s eyes, as he made this pronouncement, had the look of a man peering into the abyss of hell.

The blood drained from Thomas’s face. “Why?” he croaked, his mouth gone dry as sand.

“My…father.” Geoffrey struggled to bring out those words, apparently not wanting to acknowledge any familial relationship. “He is determined to retain the properties and titles that were to come with Lady Mary on her marriage to Roland. The connection to the royal family was most attractive to Lord Longford. Before Roland even died, the bastard sent riders to court, to the king, suggesting that my betrothal to…” Geoffrey paused, barely able to control himself. “To Lady Alyse be set aside and the contract between Lady Mary and Roland be honored by me instead.”

“And the king consented?”

“Aye. The king wanted the connection of our families as well.”

“Have you not protested?”

Geoffrey turned dead eyes to him. “Do you doubt I have tried to move heaven and earth, Thomas? You who know what she means to me?” He sighed. “I talked to my father. I begged, pleaded with him not to doom me to marriage with a woman for whom I felt nothing.” Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed. “He laughed at me. Called me a weak fool to think marriage anything other than an efficient way to exchange property and status.”

“Appeal to the king yourself.” The solution presented itself like a ray of hope. “You have served Edward faithfully these many years, and Alyse has the ear of the princess. Go plead your case before him.” Why had Geoffrey not seen this solution days ago?

“Had I had my liberty, I would have been on the road the moment he told me of his intention. But he bound me here this entire week, imprisoned in an upper chamber, while he persuaded His Majesty to sanction the match. That sanction arrived a few hours ahead of you. Sealed by the king himself. It will not be revoked.”

Geoffrey paused, swallowing with difficulty, then continued. “Lord Longford also informed me that if I tried and succeeded in overturning the sanction, he would disinherit me. In which case, Alyse’s father would deny the betrothal, and we would still not be allowed to wed.”

Thomas looked wildly at Geoffrey. The trap had been too well laid. “Could you not make another appeal to your...Lord Longford? Can you not argue...” But he could think of nothing that might tempt the autocrat.

“Thomas,” Geoffrey’s tone was dull but kind. “You are now where I was a week ago, out of my mind to find a solution.” His voice broke. “I even asked him what he would say if I told him that I had already lain with Lady Alyse, and that therefore, in law, we were married. He laughed again.” At this memory Geoffrey’s eyes shone with black hatred. “He said he hoped for the maid’s sake I spoke falsely, else her father would find it hard to secure a new betrothal for such a sullied wench.”

Fists clenched, Thomas shook his head at this insult to Alyse.

“’Twas then I hit him.”

Thomas’s mouth dropped open. “You hit your father?”

“In the face. He shall carry the scar the rest of his life.” Geoffrey’s voice steadied, cold with satisfaction once more. “But his words convinced me I dared not press forward against this marriage, lest I bring down shame on the head of the one I will always hold as my wife in my heart.” Geoffrey’s voice caught. “I had believed my despair complete at the thought I would never call my dearest love my wife, never again know her warm embrace, her sweet kiss. But at his words, another knife twisted in my torn heart.” The furrows alongside his mouth seemed to deepen. “She will have to marry another. Thoughts of my Alyse in another man’s arms, as another man’s wife…” He closed his eyes, seemed to shrink into himself. “This is why I envy Roland his cold estate.”

As numbed as Thomas had become after the revelations of the past several minutes, his mind raced to the one contingency Geoffrey had not touched on. He put a hand on his friend’s arm. “What if Alyse is with child?”

Geoffrey stared at him, his eyes suffused with pain. “That is the private hell I have endured these last seven days, for I could speak of it to no one. By the time we know for certain, I will be firmly married to Mary. And if she is, she will be dismissed from the princess’s service and sent home in disgrace. I know naught of her father, but I hold out no hope he will be compassionate to her. If she were to marry immediately it might serve, but how is that to be accomplished? If I did not think the king would imprison or execute me, I would defy them all and marry her.”

With the circumstances so horrific, Thomas could think of no reply. He placed a hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder, as much to take comfort as give it. “This is why you asked me to accompany Lady Mary? To tell me what has transpired?”

Geoffrey nodded. “Aye, and to be my witness at the marriage.” Thomas stared at him, stomach sinking. “’Tis then I shall need a friend the most.”

He nodded briefly, though being witness to such a travesty would lie heavy on his soul.

“I would ask another difficult service of you, my friend.”

He guessed what was coming and steeled himself for it.

“I have prepared a letter to my love. Will you take it and put it into her hand? I cannot think what she will suffer, Thomas, but if you are there to comfort her, as you have comforted me, mayhap ’twill be some help to her. I can do no more.”

He nodded again, sighing deeply. Next to witnessing Geoffrey’s wedding, this would be the most heinous task he would ever do.

As if in accord, both men turned toward the waiting carriage. Geoffrey set his jaw. “’Tis time I meet my bride.”

They began to walk toward the conveyance when Thomas asked, “Does Lady Mary know anything of what is to transpire?”

“I doubt it. I know not if her father made her aware of the circumstances. Lord Longford has certainly sent no word to her.”

Geoffrey’s face was stony as he approached the carriage. Opening the door, he peered into the darkened chamber, seeking the face of the woman he would soon make his wife. A pale face, framed by flaxen hair and made paler still by the light of the torches, moved toward them. Huge, dark, frightened eyes stared at them. Geoffrey reached toward the young woman, who flinched from him.

Her face was splotched and streaked with tears. She clutched a sodden handkerchief, though if she had tried to dry her tears it had had little effect. She had obviously been told of her new circumstances, for she cast a tremulous look at Geoffrey’s severe visage, and her frightened tears began anew.

“Lady Mary, you have been informed of the wishes of our parents and the king, have you not?” Geoffrey’s voice boomed in the darkness.

The girl could not speak, but finally nodded miserably.

“Will you then accompany me to the chapel of Longford, to see the matter done?”

A sob then another slight nod.

The little group entered Longford Manor and crossed the Great Hall, turning down a corridor to the right and heading toward the back of the manor house and Longford Chapel. As they moved forward, Thomas’s distress at his friend’s plight increased. So did his fear that the innocent Mary might soon bear the brunt of Geoffrey’s rage.

He laid his hand on Geoffrey’s arm before the party entered the chapel. “A word, Geoffrey, if you please.”

His friend nodded then motioned the ladies into the chapel, where they proceeded up to the waiting figures at the altar.

“Last words of comfort, Thomas?” Geoffrey sneered as he turned to face his longtime companion.

“Nay, Geoffrey. Words of caution.” He glared sternly at the young man who stood sullen and wretched beside him. “I know your pain at these events and had I the power to alter the circumstances, I would do so without hesitation, no matter the cost it would incur. But that is not within my mortal power. You must marry Lady Mary and be husband to her.”

Geoffrey shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But I beg you to do so with honor,” Thomas continued, a reproving tone entering his voice. “And with as much kindness as is left in you. Lay the blame for these misfortunes on the head of your father, who deserves it. Do not take your anger out on this terrified young girl. It serves no purpose but to dishonor you and the love you bear Alyse. For her sake, if for no other, show restraint and respect. Alyse cherishes the thought of you as a gentle and loving man. Honor her by proving worthy of her good opinion.”

Thomas feared he had overstepped himself. At the mention of her name, Geoffrey’s face acquired a hunted look and he winced as though receiving a blow. After a moment, though, he straightened to his full height. “I will heed your words, for my lady’s sake.” With that, he wheeled about and strode into the chapel.

Thomas started from his reverie, and his thoughts returned to the darkening bedchamber in which he sat with Lady Alyse. He reached for the cloth to wipe her face again and glanced toward the bed. Her eyes were open and staring at him, liquid pools of misery.

They
were
blue. Crystal blue.

He leaned forward and took her hand. “Welcome back, my lady. We have been deeply concerned for you this afternoon.”

She stared back at him, and whispered, “I wish I were dead.”

Thomas crossed himself and shook his head at her. “Say not so, gentle lady. I know you are heartsick, but live yet that we may comfort you and have joy of you.”

She turned her head away from him, tears flowing freely. “I can have no comfort in this world, for my lord has left me. I can but seek solace in the next, for there I may see him again and cherish hope of reunion in the spirit.” Alyse buried her face in the coverlet, sobbing aloud.

Thomas arose, almost as miserable as she in his inability to ease her suffering. He paced over to the window casement, looking frantically for the princess and her ladies, who were nowhere in sight.

An appalling sound rent the hushed room, sending a shiver of fear through him. He wanted to stop his ears at the intensity of the keening now emanating from the crumpled form on the bed. She would tear herself asunder if she did not find ease from this torment. His heart wrenched at the idea.

He rushed to the bed, sat upon it, and pulled Alyse into his lap. He dragged her head up and placed it firmly on his breast. She struggled, another raw scream clawing out of her throat. But his hands were unrelenting in their authority over her. At last she ceased to struggle and lay limp in his arms, as though her very strength had fled.

Her sobs lessened as she seemed to draw comfort from his nearness, and he began to rock her gently, as he would a little child. As he rocked, he stroked her hair, aware for the first time of its delicate scent.

Staring over her head, he murmured, “’Twill be all right, my lady. I swear, ’twill be all right.”

Alyse mercifully remembered little of the days following her collapse. Mostly, she recalled Thomas’s comforting presence, explaining to her why Geoffrey had married Lady Mary, encouraging her to walk with him in the gardens, coaxing her to regain her strength and something of a will to live. She was grateful for each of his efforts—except the last.

A week after receiving Geoffrey’s letter, she found herself walking listlessly around the princess’s formal gardens on Thomas’s arm. This had been a favorite place to stroll, for the flowers in full bloom perfumed the air with their sweet smell. Lilies, salvia, violets, irises, and calendula all lent their scents to try to cheer her. She was grateful he never took her near the rose bower. That memory was too painful to bear.

Eventually, he drew her down onto a bench shaded with a spray of late-blooming roses. Thomas detached one and, with deft fingers, stripped the thorns from the stem then presented her with the soft pink rosebud. “For you, my sweet. Though it pales in comparison to your beauty.”

Alyse took the rose, absentmindedly smelling the delicate aroma. “Thank you, Thomas. You are too kind to me. I fear I am poor company these days.”

“Nay, my lady. I would rather have you as my fair companion than any other.”

“You are too gallant, sir.”

“I merely speak the truth, lady. I am most content when in your presence.”

Alyse made an effort to smile at the nobleman and cast about for some topic with which to engage him that would not remind her of her misery. While she struggled for conversation, Thomas continued on his own.

“My sweet, I would speak with you about a matter that concerns you, and your future.”

She met his gaze, and a dread settled over her heart. The events of the past week had convinced her that her best hope was to dedicate herself in service to Princess Joanna. No other possible life could be contemplated. She supposed her father might try to arrange a marriage for her in
Spain, but the idea appalled her. Thoughts of any man other than Geoffrey touching her made her stomach heave and her breath quicken in horror.

“My future? It lies in
Spain with Her Highness.”

“Aye, lady. That I well know. The princess is adamant that you accompany her and will not relent on that account,” he said ruefully.

“Nor would I wish her to. Her Highness has been most gracious and kind to me these past days. I would not let her go so far from home to meet her husband without my aid and companionship, unless ’twas by her choice.” She frowned at him, trying to understand the import of his words. “You speak sadly, Thomas, of my leaving?”

“Aye, my lady. The thought of not being able to avail myself of the pleasure of your company each day has vexed me sorely.”

Alyse smiled at him, her heart welling with affection. “You are a true friend.” She placed a light hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “I shall miss you as well. You have been my rock to cling to these many unhappy days. No one has been more kind or solicitous of my poor feelings. Taking my leave of you will be nigh as grievous to me as...as...” She could not keep the tears from her eyes.

Thomas took her hand. “My lady, there is a way this parting can be thwarted.” He gazed into her eyes, his face resolute. “Alyse, if you consent, I would be honored to have you for my wife.”

Outrage struck like a lightning bolt to the heart. Her body tensed, blood drained from her face, and she started to her feet.

He held onto her hand and went down on his knee. “My lady...”

She stared at the handsome face, furious, wondering just how far into hell she had to go before reaching its icy core.

“Thomas!” She tried to wrest her hand from his, but he would not loose her fingers. Rather than struggle, which she did not have the strength to do, she curled her lip with cold disdain. “I had thought your attentions these many days were out of respect for your friend and the love you bear him. I see now ’twas for your own benefit alone.”

“Nay, my lady.” Thomas rose to his feet but did not relinquish her hand. His voice matched hers, cool and removed. “Not solely for my benefit. Indeed, not for my benefit at all.” Those words jolted her, and she stilled. He took advantage and pressed her down onto the bench again. “Are you with child?”

His question so stunned her that for some minutes she sat completely speechless. How had this not occurred to her in the past weeks? She had not even considered the possibility, but now the thought screamed at her, focusing all her attention on her body. Instinctively, her hand stole over her belly, and her cheeks stung with heat.

She stared at him, her mind in a whirl, and slowly shook her head. “Nay, Thomas. I know not. I have not had...my courses since...since that night, but I am not yet overdue. ’Twill be some time before I can hope to know.”

He sighed and some of the tension left his face. “That is good. Then there is hope yet that nothing untoward has come from that night.”

“Why do you ask this? How does it matter to you?”

He pursed his lips as if impatient with her. “’Tis one reason I asked you to marry me,” he said, his voice emotionless. “If there is a child and we marry now, ’twill be easier thought to be mine.”

“Why would you want that?” Indeed, no man she knew would want to claim another’s child as their own.

He paused, as if unsure how to answer. “When I pledged myself to your service, ’twas in absolute earnest. I mean to protect you in all ways possible, including safeguarding your reputation with the court. If you are with child and unmarried, you will be dismissed from Princess Joanna’s service in disgrace. I would not stand by and see that happen while I have means to prevent it.”

“But, Thomas, I do not wish to…marry.” Alyse closed her eyes and swallowed hard. The thought of being joined to another man—even Thomas—horrified her.

“And yet you must.”

She opened her eyes to find him staring steadily at her.

“If there is no child then perhaps haste is not necessary. You could, if you prefer, marry in
Spain. But remember, madam, you are due to sail in a fortnight.” His gaze became stern. “If your courses do not appear, you will have scarce a week to wed, and the haste of your actions will call attention to you. If the marriage can be accomplished now, ’twill look more seemly.”

Alyse stared at the rose she still held, not seeing it as she fought to take in Thomas’s words. She had thought never to marry. How could she when she belonged heart and soul to Geoffrey Longford?

Relentless, Thomas drove his point home. “Whether or not there is a child, your father will betroth you to someone else at his earliest convenience. My guess is he will take it as an affront that the king put aside your betrothal, so he will not be overly solicitous when allying you to another man. You will be given to either the first or highest bidder in as quick a manner as possible. He may be a man you do not know. He may be a foreigner in Spain.” Thomas paused and sought her eyes. “He may be Guy de Valere.”

“What?” That name sent a chill down her spine.

“He has already begged an audience with the king, who still acts
in loco parentis
. Until your father revokes the guardianship, King Edward can act in his stead. Valere intends to put forth his suit at once.”

Alyse closed her eyes, trying to shut out the thought of Guy as her husband. Knowing him as she did made that possibility less bearable somehow.

“If he succeeds, you will scarcely be better off. He did not strike me as a man who will understand your anguish or take your feelings into consideration. He will simply be a man marrying a woman for two reasons: to receive a rich dowry and to get heirs on her.” He hesitated a moment. “And I doubt he will be pleased that you do not come to his bed an untouched maid.”

Alyse winced. Thomas spoke true. A low moan escaped her. Guy would not be an understanding husband. He would not care about her explanation, only that he was not the first. And the thought of lying in bed beneath anyone not Geoffrey so reviled her that images of death by her own hand danced across her mind. She would not submit to another man, by God.

She turned a shrewd eye on him. “And if I married you, Thomas, would you not demand my obedience in your bed? Do you not also need heirs?”

He smiled broadly, as though scenting victory. “Aye, I do need an heir for my estates. But I can be a patient man.” His voice lowered, sweet and enticing, even as his eyes promised compassion. “I have the advantage, Alyse, of knowing you and knowing your regard for Geoffrey. I understand ’tis not something to be overcome in a few days or even a few weeks. If you marry me, I swear my oath I will not force you to my bed. We are young. There is time.”

“I do not know that I can ever submit to you.” The idea sent a shiver of dread through her.

He reached out to stroke her cheek with one long, sensitive finger. “Time heals many things, my dear. Perhaps enough time will allow an affection to grow between us before the heir must be produced. I am willing give you that time, where others would not.”

She wavered. What he proposed hung temptingly before her, the best outcome of a wretched bargain, but her conscience tugged at her, unrelenting. “I would feel as though I betrayed him.” Her heart ached at the word. “I can never call Geoffrey husband. To call you so would be sacrilege.” Tears oozed down her cheeks once more.

Thomas waited as she attempted to stem the tide, but her grief would not abate. She could not betray Geoffrey. The black claws of such a thought had sunk into her and would give her no respite.

“My lady.” He finally spoke, his tone tender, yet firm. “As much as it pains me to remind you, Geoffrey is married to another.”

She stifled a moan. That wound had yet to begin to heal.

“You cannot betray him by marrying me.”

The words sliced her heart like the slash of a knife. She could stand it no more. As if a dam had burst, she redoubled her harsh sobbing. ’Twas true. No use to deny it any longer. Geoffrey was lost to her forever. She laid her head in her hands. Such misery washed over her that she wished once more for death.

Thomas swore under his breath. He grasped her head and lifted it, forced her to look into his eyes. She shook her head, trying to dislodge his grip, but he held her like a vise, gentle but unyielding. He wiped her tears away with his thumbs and peered into her face, holding it close to his. Her sobs lessened.

“Better now?”

She nodded, and her breathing calmed.

He let her have another moment then continued his explanation. “It has been my honor and privilege to attend and comfort you as friend and champion, for I swore my hand to your service. Now I ask only for the right and privilege to comfort you as befits the duties of a husband.”

Alyse bowed her head, unable to meet his compassionate gaze. “But, Thomas, I do not…” She paused, unsure how to say what she must. She lifted her gaze and looked earnestly into his eyes. A deep breath, and she was ready. “I hold you in the highest esteem. Your care and concern have made me see your great worth as a gentleman and a true friend. In that respect, I find your company most desirable. Yet,” her cheeks heated at the intimate nature of her confession, “my feelings for you do not... I have not the same regard…” She stopped, unable to continue.

Thomas glanced down at her hand, still clasped in his. “You do not care for me as you do for Geoffrey. You love Geoffrey.”

These were not questions, neither were they spoken with regret or sentiment. She supposed Thomas had no illusions about her feelings for him.

“And would it help, perhaps, to know that while I respect you, I do not love you as Geoffrey does?”

Alyse raised her head sharply, but after a moment’s thought, she nodded. “Aye. That puts us on equal footing, mayhap.”

He squeezed her hand and continued. “It is simply an arranged marriage, such as any young woman might hope for. Have you any objection to me as suitor other than your continued affection for Geoffrey?”

Alyse slowly shook her head. “Nay, Thomas. Had I never met him, I would even now be rejoicing that you would have me to wife.” What cruel irony. “But what of you? You might yet wed one you held in tender regard.”

He shook his head and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Fret not for me, Alyse. That day of reckoning has been long past. I have looked many years, yet have not found one I could affect as you do Geoffrey. An you agree to be my wife, you will deprive me of naught, save a lonely bachelorhood.”

She cupped his face and smiled. “Not very lonely, I would wager, my lord. Your reputation gives the lie to that.”

“Mere gossip at the court, lady.” His lazy smile lit his face. “You should know the truth from the lies by now.”

“I should like to believe you, Thomas.” She barely whispered the words, her heart beating too fast. Could she do this? Did she have a choice?

He drew her into his arms. “Then believe, Alyse. Though I am not your beloved, I promise to keep you and protect you for all of our lives.” He bent his head and whispered in her ear, “I would not abandon you to the care of one chosen by your father, with no regard for you at all.”

Her head ached with the swirl of emotions plaguing her. Love for Geoffrey, hatred for his father who had betrayed them, thankfulness for Thomas’s care of her. And despair at the life she must now live.