My Lady's Favor. Joanne Rock
flinched, not so much from the woman’s crude accusation, but from the fury that came to life in Conon’s expression.
“Get out, Marguerite.”
“But it is true—”
Seeing Conon’s rigid stance, Elysia silently urged the woman out the door.
“Out.” The word was not shouted, but the fierceness of it sent the young widow hurrying from the bridal chamber.
Arundel wandered over to the count as she left, peering at the man’s body and the bedclothes. Elysia gauged the distance to the door and wondered if she could sneak out before the conversation turned back to her. She wanted to wash and dress and escape the nightmarish scene.
“Too bad the marriage was consummated,” the earl observed.
“But—” Elysia intervened, preparing to explain the matter, no matter how embarrassing it might be. With no consummation, she could not call herself a true widow.
Either Arundel ignored his former ward, or else he did not hear her, for he continued to speak. “She would bring more wealth as a virgin.”
His words shut her mouth. For him to speak of her as if she were no more than an object for sale to the highest bidder…the notion galled her.
How could he think about marrying her off to someone else already? Was he that unfeeling? She had yet to bury this husband.
Perhaps Conon had heard Elysia’s attempt to speak, for he suddenly looked hard upon her. “It was consummated, was it not, Lady Elysia?”
If it had been consummated, she would be considered a true widow to the count, and safe from marriage for at least another year. Maybe longer.
She would be free. Her life would be her own again, and she could return to Nevering. To her linen business. She would not attempt to take a farthing from Vannes, no matter what Conon thought to the contrary.
Yet she could not force the lie past her lips. “I am sorry, my lord but—”
“Jesu, Conon.” Arundel strode to Elysia’s side and put a protective arm about her. “How can you humiliate the girl in front of the whole keep? ’Tis obvious the deed was done.”
Conon stared at her bare shoulders and the linen duvet wrapped carelessly around her body.
“Belle, get her dressed, please.” His voice held a gruff edge. “There will be little sleep for any of us this night.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Elysia felt like a child, but saw the wisdom of clothing herself. It frustrated her, however, that Conon just stepped in and assumed control. The men, she knew, would decide her fate without her. By the time she returned, Arundel and Conon would probably have the rest of her life planned without so much as a glance in her direction.
She needed to tell them the truth of the situation before they began discussing her future. Elysia looked back to the chamber, weighing her options.
But she did not want to return and bring up the awkward situation in front of a crowd of gossipmongers. She would go to the earl later, when he met privately with Conon, and tell them what really had happened.
Belle hustled Elysia down the hall and to a private chamber. She scarcely noticed what garments Belle chose for her as the maid dressed and groomed her with expert thoroughness.
Elysia focused on the upcoming meeting with the earl and Conon. She would tell them she would not marry again unless forced. Tonight’s experience surpassed humiliation, and for all she knew, it was because of her ineptitude as a wife that her husband died.
“Do not fret, sweeting,” Belle soothed. The French maid had served at Vannes prior to Elysia’s arrival, and Elysia had liked her from the moment they met.
“It had nothing to do with you, you know,” the servant continued. “The lord has been drinking with no care for his health for as long as I have been here, and from what I hear, for twenty years before that. No man can abuse his poor body that way and expect to escape unscathed.”
“Perhaps I hastened him to his grave.” Elysia hid the knife wound on her thigh as Belle helped her into a fresh gown. Elysia would tell Arundel what happened, but she didn’t want the servants to hear the news first. “The excitement of the marriage and the strain of the wedding day. It was too much.”
“If so, he has no one to blame but himself. If you had not consented to wed, he would have found another young woman half his years.”
But guilt racked her. Guilt because the count died. Guilt because she let his nephew and Arundel think her wedding night left her a widow.
The whole mess required unraveling. She would proceed immediately to the earl’s chamber and tell them what happened—and hope with all her heart Arundel did not immediately marry her off to some other unfortunate soul.
After giving instructions to the staff for moving the count’s body and cleaning the master bedchamber, Conon sent for his fellow knight, Leon de Grace, to oversee the movement of the count while Conon met with Arundel.
A trusted friend, Leon had fought beside Conon during Conon’s first battle. Some odd command of the Fates had left them standing when hordes of other men had died all around them. They’d stuck together after that, neither one willing to turn his back on a partnership that seemed somehow preordained. Neither man had a family, but for ten years, they’d counted on one another as if they’d been born brothers.
De Grace arrived immediately, offering his condolences by clapping Conon on the shoulder. “He is at peace now, my friend.”
Conon nodded, heartened by Leon’s presence. Ten years older than Conon, de Grace would handle everything with his usual efficiency. The man was endlessly capable.
“You are to meet with the girl’s overlord now?” de Grace asked, peering around the room as the maids removed the linens to clean the chamber.
“Arundel will want every facet of the bridal contract enforced, of course,” Conon remarked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the bitterness from his voice.
“As is his right, of course.” The voice of wisdom returned as he tore off a bit of bread from the food on the sideboard.
“And I will honor it.” Conon swiped a hand over his face, weary of the day. “I am a man of honor if not wealth.”
“’Tis a better recommendation for a man anyhow,” de Grace reminded him between bites of bread. “If only your uncle had possessed a bit more of the former, you would now be possessed of a bit more of the latter.”
“Aye.” Conon knew his friend meant no insult. “He was a good man once.”
De Grace gazed upon Jacques’s bloated body and nodded. “You lost that man long before tonight, Con. Just remember his bride knows naught of his empty promises to you. ’Tis not her fault he did not keep them.”
Conon thought of Elysia’s frightened eyes tonight, the way she had looked when she’d realized the count was dead. Had that been sorrow he’d read in her expression? Or relief? “Nay, but it is her fault I cannot leave Vannes now. I will need to stay here a bit longer while matters are settled.”
If Elysia carried his uncle’s heir, Conon would need to make arrangements for the child’s care and protection. For that matter, he would be honor-bound to protect the child’s mother.
“We will leave when you are ready. I am in no hurry,” de Grace assured him.
Of course Leon was in no hurry to find work as a mercenary. He had a modest fortune stashed somewhere on the continent thanks to more wars fought than Conon. This new delay was a blow to Conon’s coffers.
They parted company then. Conon traversed the dimly lit corridors toward Arundel’s chamber, preparing himself to face the earl and discuss the fine points of his uncle’s marriage contract. No doubt,