The Scandalous Duchess. Anne O'Brien
of me. I will pour your wine and tie your laces.’
Which made a breath of laughter rise inappropriately to the surface, but I looked away, absorbing the reality of the threshold before which I found myself standing.
‘I could not bear to be the object of gossip, my lord.’
‘You know the ways of the court.’
‘I know that it is impossible to hide anything for long.’
‘I would never draw attention to you. To us. Is that what you fear?’
I breathed out slowly. ‘Is such discretion possible?’
‘I don’t know.’ He was honest too. ‘All I know is that I have a need of you, beyond all good sense.’
His words slid over my flesh like the finest cloth, like the blue and white damask he had given me. How fatally simple it was, after the recent weeks of heart-searching. His assurance had the power of a battle mace against an enemy’s helm. His conviction could have carried an army to victory against the most powerful foe.
‘Come to me. Allow me to take care of you and worship at your perfect feet.’
He saw no difficulty in my choice, whereas I could count every trap in the path of an unwary woman. And yet in spite of my qualms, all I could do was marvel at the richness of the gift he had placed at my feet. How could I have ever believed that the Duke of Lancaster would invite me to take my place at his side, in his life?
‘Do it. Say yes, lovely Katherine.’
‘Does nothing at all about this worry you?’ I asked instead in bewilderment.
‘Not a thing.’
The silence of the chapel around us grew taut, for had we not turned full circle, to face once more the unpardonable sin? The Duke was so assured whereas I wallowed in a puddle of indecision.
‘I said I would kneel at your feet. Behold I do.’ And still holding my hand he dropped to one knee, looking up at me with all the old glamour in his presence. ‘It is this easy, my lady. I want you. Do you want me?’
‘My lord…’ I studied his handsome features, of which he was very well aware. In a final attempt to combat temptation, I adopted as remote a tone as I was able. ‘I would ask one thing of you.’
‘And I will grant it.’
‘Will you give me one night? To consider my answer.’
‘God’s Blood, woman! What can you decide in one night, that you haven’t managed to decide in six weeks?’
‘It is a dangerous step.’
‘It is a glorious step!’
Which understandable irritation I ignored, for I would not be rushed into a decision that would have so great an impact on my life. ‘And will you agree to abide by the choice I make, my lord?’
‘That’s two things.’ He looked askance.
‘Then make it three. I wish to borrow a book from you, my lord.’
‘A book?’ The irritation was overlaid with bafflement. ‘A missal? Come then, if that is your wish. And perhaps you could practise not calling me my lord with every breath. My name is John.’
‘As I know, my lord.’
With an appreciative laugh, opening the door, we left the angels in no way the wiser as the Duke escorted me to his library, leaving me there to make my choice. For a moment he stood, watching as I lit a candle from a wall-torch.
‘Katherine?’
I looked back at him where he stood by the open door. How had I never realised the caress of his voice on my name, even when the mischief had vanished. The Duke was very serious as he bowed deeply.
‘How you intrigue me. You kisses are sensuous yet you are governed with stark piety. Promise me that you will not allow fear of what the world will say to guide your choice. Promise that you will not give power to past sorrows and present fears to chain you to your bleak widowhood. I swear there is more for you in this life than what you are today. And I should tell you: for me it is no mere attraction. It is an overwhelming desire.’
‘I promise, my lord.’
Briefly I read naked desire in his face, before courtesy returned and he strode back across the room to kiss my fingers with typical flamboyance.
‘When you smile, you are so very beautiful. Don’t look so baffled. Sleep well, my dearest one. I would give you happiness and fulfilment, not anguished soul-searching.’
And with a final salute to my fingers he left me to my search.
The decision I was about to make was hazardous indeed: to follow the hard and narrow but entirely respectable path dictated by morality and virtue, or to step aside to snatch at that bright happiness the Duke offered me. I knew full well what I ought to do. My conscience was a lively creature, prompting me into the way of godly righteousness, for how should I live with so great a sin on my soul?
I swore the Duke of Lancaster stood at my shoulder as I selected my book. My mind was all chaos.
I discovered the Duke in his library, where he would be engaged in business affairs after early Mass and breaking his fast. Quietly, only half-opening the door, I paused. Then, entirely certain of what I must do, I pushed it open, the well-greased hinges failing to announce my presence. There, his back to me, the Duke poured over a large expanse of vellum on which I could see was drawn a map of England and France and the northern reaches of Castile.
I stood, watching him as he worked, unaware of his audience, his finger tracing what I thought was a route to Aquitaine, continuing south to Castile, the object of his new ambitions. The success or failure of this new expedition would rest on his shoulders.
I moved inadvertently, my shoe scuffing along the tiles, but he did not respond, probably did not even hear.
‘My lord.’
‘Leave it over there.’
The Duke was not the only one to be mistaken for a servant.
‘I would rather—’
‘Go away.’ He was more abstracted than I had thought. ‘Come back later.’
With a grunt of exasperation he scrubbed his fist along the edge of his chin, much as young Henry had done earlier in the day when reprimanded for cleaning his inky fingers on the front of his tunic, so that I smiled at the similarity.
I was so sure, my decision clear in my mind. So sure that I walked softly forward and placed my hand on his shoulder.
‘I will return if it pleases you. I thought you wanted an answer from me. I am here to give it.’
‘Ah…have you come to refuse me?’ he asked, staring ahead.
Every muscle in that shoulder was tensed beneath my palm as he anticipated my ultimate rejection. His hands clenched into fists on the map.
‘So you pre-empt me,’ I replied evenly.
‘Why not? You would not be the first virtuous woman to find lechery too painful to contemplate,’ he replied, his voice harsh, his observation grating against my senses. ‘Perhaps you have not the courage to seize what you desire.’
Here was a man who never questioned his own courage, but he would question mine. I lifted my palm and stepped back. Did he think it would not take courage to refuse him?
‘I am here to give you my reply,’ I said with a calmness that belied by leaping heart. ‘Whether I have courage, it is for you to judge.’
Standing, stretching to his full height, quite carefully the Duke placed the pen beside the document, and turned. I remained motionless. I did not say a word: I did not have to. I watched as a smile began, slowly at first, then growing to illuminate his face, enhancing his beauty as he saw