The Bride Tournament (26 page)

Because never before in his life had his best not been good enough. He’d tried to convince Eleanor to care for him and failed. He’d thought the answer was to persist. So he had.

But Eleanor would never be truly his. She’d made that clear by pursuing her tournament. When he’d held her close, when she’d returned his kisses, he’d thought he could win her. He hadn’t mistaken her interest, of that he was certain.

Eleanor wouldn’t value him as a husband unless he loved her. Love. The one thing he didn’t know how to give. Without it, the pure gold he thought they could share transmuted to lead. Alchemy in reverse. Nor could she accept his quest. Given those significant differences, how could he force her to continue their marriage? He’d asked Edward for the annulment, had persuaded the king it was for the best. For Eleanor.

Was this the purest form of love, willingness to do whatever it took to make the other person happy, even if the doing came at a high cost and made you miserable? Or was it mere self-preservation?

He’d accept this “better” bride.

“Household Management: Lady Mary Whyte,” the herald shouted. “Lastly, I shall cry Overall.” He paused dramatically, until he claimed the attention of every person in the stands. “Are the esteemed Judges ready to pronounce their decision?”

Richard tensed as if a cannonball had been launched directly at him.

He hadn’t called the tournament off because he’d been so certain Eleanor would, proving she wanted to stay with him without his love and with his alchemy pursuit as no other action could. If he’d asked Edward to cancel it, nothing would be different between them. Even his need to be with her didn’t outweigh his desire to see her happy.

When the rowdy crowd finally quieted to await the judgment, the herald strutted to the center of the field. He turned in a slow circle, clearly savoring the expectant hush.

“The Judges offer a unanimous decision. The winner Overall is Lady Isabel Buntyng.”

Some spectators cheered, others booed. Isabel squealed, rather like a stuck pig.

Richard squeezed the arms of his chair, carvings of lion’s heads digging into his palms.

He’d failed, but she’d succeeded. She had her annulment, now he’d have a new bride. Her efforts to be rid of him had finally come to fruition.

Should he admit defeat with Eleanor or wage one final attack?

Eleanor forced herself to keep her face and body still as Richard rose. Without a glance in her direction, he made his way onto the field.

She had to leave before she suffocated.

Alyce clutched her arm. “Eleanor, stay,” her sister ordered. “You can’t depart so soon or everyone will think you’re upset with the outcome. This is supposed to be what you wanted. Act pleased.”

Why did she care what people thought? Only Richard mattered. Eleanor managed a half smile. Alyce held her hand tightly, as if to ensure she remained until the bitter end.

Richard joined Isabel, soon to be Countess of Glasmere, on the field. Eleanor swallowed as he took Isabel’s hand, kissed it, then held it high. They basked in the crowd’s cheers. His bride to be took a ribbon from her headdress and tied it to his sleeve, as a woman would bestow a favor upon her knight before a joust.

That must have been one of Hastings’s ideas.

As trumpets blared, the throng cheered as happily and loudly as if the king’s champion had won the day. Coincidentally, Isabel’s velvet gown matched Richard’s tunic. They made a perfect pair.

Two horses draped in cloth of gold were led out. With knightly courtesy, Richard helped Isabel mount. His smile pierced Eleanor’s heart. As they rode off the field, eyes only for each other, golden cloth glinting in the setting sun, jealousy flooded her so forcefully she thought she might actually drown.

She’d never have the chance to win Richard back now. He had his better bride.

Chapter 17

“Are you going to take the four remaining women to market?” a man shouted as Eleanor trudged toward her horse with Alyce hurrying by her side. His companions laughed.

“Or are you going to hold a husband tournament next?” called another.

She stopped listening. Each question, comment and snide smile scraped Eleanor’s insides. She couldn’t wait to leave Smithfield in the dust.

“Are you satisfied?” Edmund caught up with her

“Father, keep your voice down.” Alyce took her hand. “Eleanor is tired. Please leave her be.”

“Now both daughters disappoint.” He shook his head. “Alyce, I take no orders from you. Court life has made you too bold. And Eleanor, you’re no longer a countess. Just my spinster daughter, practically penniless if not for my good will. After all you’ve wrought, how am I to find you another husband?”

More knives to her gut. Because all he’d said was true.

She raised her head. “The tournament went well. Perhaps I will hold more. Men will pay me to find them excellent brides. Rich widows, too.”

“You gave away an earl. Now you think to ply a trade?” he demanded. “Why do you live to embarrass me and our lineage? You’re under my rule again. You’ll live at Middleworth until I decide what to do with you. But for certain I’ll keep hold of the keys. All of them.”

Eleanor bit her tongue to prevent an argument. She’d go to Middleworth, but only until she could figure out how to get others to pay for her matchmaking services. She’d said it as a jest, but maybe, if she could surmount the challenges, her own business would be her path to freedom. To control.

Keeping busy might be her path to forgetting Richard.

“What would your mother think?” Edmund hammered the final nail into her coffin of catastrophe.

The next day, Eleanor dropped another gown into her open trunk. Her narrow room was a jumble of clothing, veils and the like. With each item packed, she felt as if another part of her disappeared, never to see the light of day again.

Alyce moved with unusual sluggishness as she gathered up several pairs of Eleanor’s shoes. “How can you leave?”

“How can I stay? The king will no longer accommodate me. I’ve no coin to rent a room. You should be happy. You can go to your church now,” she said. “Mayhap I’ll join you.”

No matter how miserable she felt, no matter how worried about her future, never could she cloister herself from the world and spend her days in prayer.

Did every woman need a husband and children to make life complete? Surely some felt fulfilled by responsibilities, work, music and books. But she couldn’t be a true chatelaine, as she’d been before her marriage, without her keys. Going to Edmund every time Cook needed something from the storeroom would be too demeaning. And unless she could break the door down, she wouldn’t have the satisfaction of undoing her father’s work. Not that it would’ve been enough.

“I don’t want to leave court,” Alyce whispered. She put a pair of leather boots in a trunk, then sank to her knees. “Or give myself to the Church. I’ve been right about you, and you were right about me. I like it here. There’s so much to do, so many interesting people to meet. I can no longer imagine a life devoted solely to good works, prayer and God.”

Her little sister had grown up since leaving home.

“That’s a significant decision. Are you sure?” Eleanor folded a veil. The shimmering fabric slipped and slithered out of its tidy packet.

Alyce nodded. “Yes. Like you, I but followed the path I’d agreed to take long before I knew what I really wanted. I believed our parents. Now I know for myself. The life of a nun is not for me.”

“Father will stay disappointed with us both, then,” she cautioned. “Perhaps there is a way for you to remain here. You could talk to Richard. I’m sure he’d help you to a place. At least one of us could be happy.”

“Surely you weren’t serious about holding more tournaments. Maybe Richard could find you a place, too. Then we could both stay. Better here than stuck with Father.”

Better to endure gossip about her choices or Edmund’s censure? Better to see Richard with Isabel? Eleanor dropped the pile of veils and burst into tears.

“Oh, Eleanor.” Alyce rushed to her side and enfolded her in a hug. “How can I help?”

“Tell me how I can convince Richard to wed me again instead of his better bride.” She’d come to hate the term she’d once thought so clever and apt. She clung to her sister, indulging in this rare opportunity to reveal her feelings and confess her misery.

“I knew it!” Alyce crowed, releasing Eleanor. “You do love him. Have you told him how you feel?”

“I do love him, I do.” Saying the words aloud felt strangely comforting. “I should’ve been brave enough to tell him. Mayhap he needed the words in addition to the— Well, we kissed.”

Alyce’s face brightened. “You did? And you didn’t tell me? There’s naught wrong with that, you were wed.”

“Not all the times. Our best kiss came after the annulment.”
 
And so much more.

“Oh.” Alyce frowned, as if not sure what to make of that. “Well, neither of you belonged to another.”

Eleanor blew her nose even as more tears fell. “I thought he’d know I couldn’t be with a man I didn’t love.”

“‘Be with?’ Then you also—”

Eleanor couldn’t conceal a smile. “Yes.”

“Ah. I wish I knew more about men and their ways,” Alyce said. “Tell me how it was.”

“Now that you’ve decided to forego the Church, I will enlighten you,” Eleanor began. Memories of the wonderful embraces she and Richard had shared replaced her tears. “I felt so comforted, safe, warm, and things words can’t describe. I’ve learned why girls are kept close to home. For if they knew how wonderful kissing and other things with a man can be, remaining a virgin could be difficult.”

Alyce smiled. “Now I know I’ve made the right decision. I want those feelings, too. Do you think it would be thus with any man?”

“No. I can’t imagine it would be that wondrous. I knew I loved Richard when we shared…ourselves, which made it more meaningful,” Eleanor said. “To me, at least. He’ll always have my heart. Oh, Alyce. How can I ever wed another?”

A knock sounded at the door. Alyce opened it.

“Richard,” she announced, surprise evident in her voice.

Eleanor wiped the remaining tears from her face. He looked even more handsome in person than in her thoughts. A short green velvet tunic enhanced his fine form. Anguish washed over her anew. She’d missed his company so very much.

“I suppose I have an urgent errand to attend to,” Alyce said. “Though I’d rather stay.”

Eleanor stared at Richard, and he at her.

“I’ll be back. Soon,” Alyce said.

Richard stepped inside and closed the door.

Eleanor savored being alone with him, a state she’d never thought to experience again. Yet the wood paneled walls seemed to close in on her instead of providing intimacy as they had the last time he was here. When they’d made love and she’d been happy.

“What do you want?” Eleanor couldn’t keep rancor from her voice. “Have you come to gloat about your upcoming marriage?” And drive the dagger deeper into her chest?

A miniscule sliver of hope gleamed. Was there any chance he missed her, too? Mayhap he wanted to pull her close for a kiss as much as she wanted him to.

“You’re leaving.” He indicated the piles of clothing. The sound of his voice increased her longing.

“I’m returning to Middleworth.” In case he wanted to find her. Would she sit there, pining and waiting like a lovesick lunatic? “Why have you come?”

“To say fare thee well,” he replied.

“Ah. Fare thee well, then.”

Such banal conversation when they’d once grown close. Eleanor feared she’d throw herself at him if she continued to look at him. She picked up the mass of veils and began to fold one.

“And to retrieve my mother’s brooch,” he added.

Her hand covered the jewel, which she still wore. More than her wedding ring, the ruby pin represented Richard to her. Touching the smooth, rounded stones brought him near even when they were apart. Gave her hope. She unfastened the brooch and placed it on the bed.

“Here,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “Take this too.” She fetched the sapphire band from a small coffer and dropped it beside the pin, then returned to folding.

The finality stunned her. Though their marriage had ended with the annulment, despite the tournament it hadn’t felt truly over until this moment. Only pride kept her standing.

“The ring is yours. I bought that for you.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Richard close his fingers around the brooch. “This is for my wife. Have a safe journey.”

She wanted to be close to him more than ever, but watched, taken aback, as he reached for the door. He opened it halfway, then closed it and faced her.

Her heart leapt. Richard couldn’t bring himself to leave her.

“I am to wed Isabel in three weeks,” he said.

The spark of hope died. He lingered only to speak of his future, which would be spent with someone else.

“When is your wedding?” he asked.

A gauze veil dangled from her fingers. “My wedding?”

“To Arthur. Your dream can finally come true. You’re free, he’s free. Nothing, no one, stands in your way.”