Fool's Paradise. Tori Phillips
house? Is she lost?” Pausing, he raised one eyebrow slowly. “Or, perhaps, she is running away?”
Elizabeth choked, then stared at the fire to avoid his compelling eyes.
“Ah,” he murmured. “Methinks I have hit the nut and core of the matter. Lady Elizabeth, may I ask why are you running away from so great a fortune and so noble a betrothed lord?”
Elizabeth tried to ignore Tarleton’s honeyed probing.
The jester spoke softly. “I believe there is some water in your eye, Lady Elizabeth. Use your sleeve, that’s what the good Lord created them for.” He drew closer to her side. “Tell me your story, sweet lady. I am a patient listener as well as a chattering monkey. You can trust Tarleton. Her Most Gracious Majesty often does. What happened since I left Esmond Manor?”
“All my happiness died,” Elizabeth answered quietly, afraid to give freedom to the words that, until now, she had kept confined in her heart. “The morning after the feast, my father took suddenly ill, and… died.”
“May God have mercy upon his soul.” Tarleton’s voice held an infinitely compassionate tone. “Sir Thomas Hayward was a good man, and a generous one, too. What happened?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath to steady her voice. “We don’t know. Father was well when I greeted him early in the day, but toward the forenoon he doubled over in pain and turned a dreadful color. We put him to bed straightaway, and sent for a doctor. But, by the time he arrived in the afternoon, my father had… had died.”
Tarleton’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Had your father eaten anything unusual? Did he complain of the taste of the food?”
“No-o.” Elizabeth racked her brains to remember the details of that dreadful day. It had been a delightful breakfast. She and her father repeated to each other some of Tarleton’s jests from the night before. Then Sir Robert joined them. “Wait! My father had a dish of mushrooms that the rest of us did not. My betrothed gathered some plump ones that morning, which he gave to my father.”
“An interesting gift.” Tarleton compressed his lips into a tight line. “And what did the good Sir Robert do after your father died?”
Elizabeth shuddered as she recalled what followed. “He changed as suddenly as a weathercock in a high wind. Though Sir Robert was all smiles, I did not like him much. I told my father of my dislike after the betrothal feast. My father, who was kind and loving, said he would break off the match. But, before he could do so, he…he was gone.” Elizabeth blinked rapidly several times in an effort to keep her tears at bay.
“Even as my father’s body grew cold, Sir Robert suggested… nay, he insisted that we should be married at once. He said it would protect my interests.”
“And his,” Tarleton muttered knowingly under his breath.
“I told him it was too hasty. How could I think of marriage when my father had just died?” Elizabeth looked away, fighting back her grief. It must wait for a more private time.
Slipping his arm around her shoulder, Tarleton drew her closer to him. He smeiled of wood smoke, leather and mint, a combination Elizabeth found oddly comforting.
“Surely Sir Robert meant kindly,” Tarleton prompted.
“No!” Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “When I put him off, he grew violently angry. He was loathsome to look at, and he swore such oaths at me! Sir Robert called me a ninny, saying I did not know what was good for me. He said I was stubborn, and, when I told him he was acting as no gentleman should, he… he struck me across the face!”
Tarleton’s grip tightened around her. “He deliberately hit you?” he whispered in a low, dangerous voice.
“Aye!” Elizabeth shivered. “Then he dragged me to my chamber and locked me in, saying I would neither eat nor drink until I agreed to be married immediately after my father’s burial. If not, he threatened he would… force himself upon me!”
“Forgive my boldness, Lady Elizabeth, but methinks Sir Robert La Faye is in desperate need of a sound horsewhipping. How did you manage to escape?” Tarleton lightly stroked her hair. Elizabeth found his touch soothing. She laid her head against his shoulder.
“‘Twas my maid, Charlotte. Last night, she brought me some food after Sir Robert had drunk himself into a stupor. She told me that he had taken over the hall as if he were already the master. After I ate, I made up a small packet of clothing, provisions and money, then I escaped on my father’s favorite horse.”
“Where are you going, my lady?” Tarleton questioned gently.
“To my godmother, the Queen. They say she is at Hampton Court.”
Tarleton abruptly stopped playing with Elizabeth’s fine, soft hair, and regarded her with surprise. “Her Grace is your godmother? But I’ve never seen you at court.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I was too young. For the past six years, I’ve been away in France with my mother’s family. I only recently returned… and found myself betrothed.”
“And what do you seek of your godmother?” Tarleton asked casually, while his mind spun with the complications of the situation. God’s nightshirt! This tiny lady was a prize, indeed! No wonder Sir Robert had been so anxious to wed her!
“I will beg Her Majesty to annul this loathsome betrothal. I would like to become one of her ladies.”
“And you would be an ornament to her court, though not, I fear, in your present garb. In truth, you look a very poor lady but you make a very pretty lad.”
Elizabeth felt his warm breath tickle her ear. She suddenly realized that she was clasped in his embrace, and, more shocking, that she clutched him tightly around his waist. Shivery tingles ran deliciously up and down her spine. Hastily drying her tears on her sleeve, she pulled away from his arms. Her blood pounded hotly in her ears.
“I meant no offense…” Tarleton began, seeing her confusion, but then he thought better of it and changed the subject. “How does it happen you are here and not halfway to Oxford by now?”
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “My horse shied at a hare. I am sure by now Sir Robert is out searching for me.”
“He best not cross my path, Lady,” Tarleton growled.
“As I walked along the road I heard you singing.”
“Ah! So you were drawn by the sweetness of my voice and came spying upon me? And I thought you were a thief!” He chuckled at his mistake.
Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment, her mind weighing her few options. “Tarleton, can I trust you?” she finally asked.
“You are wearing my clothing. You have eaten most of my food. You have even threatened me with a weapon. Yet, you ask me if you can trust me?” Cocking his head, he grinned impishly at her.
Though she did not mean to, Elizabeth found herself smiling back. How could any woman resist such a roguish smile? Stop it! He’s only a player, even if he is a handsome one. Clearing her throat, she stood up. Best to deal with Tarleton in a more dignified manner, despite the fact she was barefoot in a forest. “Will you escort me safely to Hampton Court?” she asked. “I can pay you well for your service.”
Reaching into her shirt, she withdrew the small money bag that she had hung around her neck. The coins inside clinked invitingly.
“Put that away, my lady!” he said gruffly. “Never show your money in public. Not even to me. I fear I am no saint.”
“Please help me, good jester. I have no one else,” she beseeched.
Tarleton whistled through his teeth. “I am a coward of the first degree,” he admitted. “I should be tied up and put into a darkened room to agree to such a mad idea, and yet…”
Elizabeth felt his gaze sweep over her. It made her quiver, as if she had just been