The Bride Tournament Page 17

  “I cannot say, Lady Glasmere, but he awaits in his office. I shall take you to him.” The page bowed low.

  Still holding the note, Eleanor followed the boy as he wove through the corridors toward the chamberlain’s sizeable, wood-paneled office.

  “Please, Lady Glasmere, be seated.” William, Lord Hastings, stood behind a wide desk. He dressed to match his elevated position in a long, fur-trimmed robe with puffed shoulders and a tall hat with a rounded top that almost concealed his short, dark hair. He wore a necklace of linked suns and white enamel roses, the king’s emblems. Like Richard’s.

  Lord Hastings waved a hand full of documents toward a carved chair on the other side of his desk. He sat, and began sorting documents onto various piles.

  “Since you are newly arrived, I’m not sure how much you know of my duties and offices. I am responsible, amongst many things, for the king’s entertainments.” Hastings paused, his attention momentarily captured by one of the documents. He put the remaining parchments on the tallest pile. “Of course I have heard of the most unusual event you are planning. I wish to offer my assistance.”

  That her tournament should be noted by the man many called the king’s closest friend was flattering, but the unspoken hint that he wanted to be involved and make changes in her decisions appalled her.

  “My thanks, Lord Hastings,” she said with a gracious nod instead of a sharp retort, “but all is under control. I wouldn’t want to trouble you. I can see how busy you are.” She smiled, striving to appear confident and calm.

  Hastings smiled back. He steepled his fingers. “Perhaps you misunderstood my intent. Edward wishes to restore jousting to England. I believe your tournament, though far from a joust, could encourage enthusiasm for related events. So I am offering my assistance. I’m certain you know what that means.”

  Eleanor’s stomach sank. She might not have been at court very long, but she knew.

  “It means you will graciously accept my aid,” he said. He handed her a rolled parchment tied with a pink ribbon. “Within you will find the new plans.”

  She untied the ribbon with fingers she willed not to shake. He couldn’t know how her stomach churned as she prepared to read his proposed changes.

  “You may study them later. The primary alteration is that the tournament will now be held at Smithfield.”

  Eleanor gasped. Smithfield, where royal jousts had been held? A far larger venue than she’d rented. Her stomach roiled again. “But, my lord, I—”

  “And I plan to invite the entire court.”

  She emitted an unladylike gasp. As if it weren’t enough the whole court knew of and gossiped about her tournament, now everyone would witness the victory of the woman who would become Richard’s new bride.

  “I’m glad to see this pleases you,” Hastings commented, an unmistakable note of warning in his voice. “I have everything under control. Of course I’ve mentioned this to the king. You’ll be elated to know he has expressed interest in attending.”

  Eleanor was speechless. No matter where she went, no matter how hard she tried, there was always some man who could overrule her choices and tell her what to do. Was there anywhere in the world a woman could escape a man’s control, could make her own decisions and see them enacted?

  All she could do now was accept with grace. Act like the lady—the countess—she was. “Since the tournament now is in your skilled hands, my lord, you may wish to know I’ve just learned that Lady Blanche Latimer, one of the competitors, lied about her wealth to gain entry.”

  “I see. I’ll have that looked into.” Hastings continued, “Quite interesting, is it not, Lady Glasmere? The king required you to wed the earl, yet now he supports your generosity in seeking…what do the gossips say…a ‘better bride.’ I wonder what prompted such a change of heart. I suggest you think on that, and carefully.”

  He returned to his papers without so much as another look at her.

  She rose, fighting the unwelcome wavering of her chin. “My thanks, Lord Hastings, for your munificence.”

  His head snapped up, likely at the impossible-to-contain sarcasm in her tone.

  After bestowing a simpering smile, Eleanor left the chamberlain’s office. Though the highest hands in the land were now cooking her pies, there had to be a way to gain some jurisdiction over the ingredients.

  Chapter 15

  “Margaret is dead. My new wife is dead.”

  Holding his hat in his hand, Arthur stood before Eleanor in Windsor’s chapel. He looked haggard as the hat’s drooping feather, as if Margaret’s sudden death had sapped his energy.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Eleanor said. She frowned. Sorrow was all she felt. Where was hope, where was longing to be with Arthur, now that he was free?

  “Margaret came down with a fever as we traveled. We had no physician. No one in our group aided her. She died before we reached the next town.” He sat beside her, but she slid down the pew.

  “My sympathies for you and her suffering,” Eleanor said. “But why tell me? Does Richard know of her death? Or that you’ve returned to court?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to see you first.” He turned, as if making sure no one else could hear. “I’ve lost more than my wife. Since she died without an heir of her body, her lands revert to the king. Edward hasn’t accepted me into his good graces. The attainder still keeps—”

  “Ah, so you’re without coin again.” Burning anger replaced sorrow. “That’s why you came to me. You want me to plead your case with Richard so he’ll help you to another wealthy bride. How many do you think he has to hand?”

  Other courtiers gathered nearby. She could almost see their ears grow larger as they strained to listen. She couldn’t wait to be away from court, the never-ending gossip and intrigues, the noisy crowds.

  Eleanor lowered her voice. “You could join Richard in my tournament of brides and take home the lady who comes in second. No, wait, you’ve been attainted and the king hasn’t forgiven you. And Richard’s brother Owen already has a claim on number two.”

  “I have another idea—”

  “Ask Richard if friendship still holds sway. Or has your well finally run dry? Do you fear Richard has done all he’s willing to do, so you seek aid from me?” She couldn’t help her disdain. Everyone, from Hastings to Arthur, wanted something from her.

  “Eleanor, what has made you so bitter?” He moved closer, too close. She slid away. “How could you forget what we meant to each other? I thought you’d be ecstatic to learn I’m no longer wed. After your tournament, we can finally—”

  “Not another word.” She held up a hand. “You made it quite clear you wouldn’t want me whether you were free or not. Now that you’ve lost your bride’s wealth, here you are. Ha. You want my funds, not me.”

  “Eleanor, please.” The devotion in his gaze made her fear he’d go down on one knee in front of everyone. “It was as you said. Duty bound me to Margaret. I couldn’t in good conscience trouble you with my wishes or true feelings. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us, or Margaret or Richard. But I never stopped thinking about you. Missing you. Tell me ’tis not too late for us.”

  Was he sincere? Her long-held dream could still come true. She searched within for the love she used to feel for Arthur, but found nothing. She didn’t know him, if she ever had. He literally paled in comparison to Richard, in more ways than the physical. Why had she taken so long to see it?

  “I love you, Eleanor. Can you doubt me?”

  At last the words she had so longed to hear. But from the wrong man, at the wrong time.

  Suddenly all was as if the sun dispelled thick gray clouds marring her vision. She hadn’t known what love really was. How much time had she wasted believing Arthur in his blond perfection represented the man of her ideals? Because the king, her father and even Richard wanted to control her, she’d refused to see the gift she was being offered. Richard, the better groom in all respects.

  Alyce had suggested she could have
the choice she’d always wanted. She just had to choose Richard. Perhaps that was the true way to happiness: to choose, within your heart, what you were given. To focus on the good as much as possible instead of dwelling on the bad.

  “’Tis definitely too late,” she said. “There is no ‘us.’”

  “You’re angry,” Arthur said. “That’s understandable. We’ll continue this conversation anon.” He bowed and left.

  Eleanor watched him without a hint of remorse. What a mess she’d made. Soon Richard would have a better bride. And she’d have nothing. Nothing but her pride.

  Unless…. How could she call off the tournament? Her many hours of planning had proved fruitful, though not in the way she’d expected. Working to find Richard another bride served to show her how much she wanted to keep her husband.

  Eleanor tracked down her sister, who was strolling through the Upper Ward with her roommates. Though she’d become accustomed to Windsor’s grandeur, its vastness still staggered her.

  She led Alyce to a stone bench. “Alyce, I need your help. We need to stop the tournament. Even though Lord Hastings has taken over the planning, moved it to Smithfield and invited the king.” Her heart sank.

  “Oh, Eleanor.” Alyce set down her embroidery basket, and took out a wood frame securing a portion of a red velvet chasuble. She threaded the brass needle with silk. “’Tis in two days. Why now?”

  Her sister’s calm demeanor fueled her impatience. “I’ve finally made up my mind. I want to stay with Richard. I am the only wife he needs.”

  “You should listen to me more often,” Alyce admonished. “You arranged the tournament only to give yourself time to get to know him.”

  “That wasn’t my goal. Though as it turns out, you’re right. I just couldn’t sit back and be told what to do. Nor did I want to bind myself to another alchemist.”

  She made several dainty stitches on the head of a cherub. “Well, it’s too late. You’re no longer in charge. The brides are eager. Richard too, from what I’ve seen.”

  Eleanor clasped her hands and danced a little jig. The sun suddenly seemed brighter, the air fresher. “Alyce, I’m so glad you came to court with me. You’re brilliant.”

  “What did I say?” She frowned.

  “It’ll be so much better if Richard is the one to call off the tournament. If he doesn’t desire a new bride, there’s no reason to continue. All I have to do is convince him we should remain together.”

  “How can you do that?” Alyce asked, disbelief evident in her expression. “You’ve done naught but endeavor to rid yourself of him.”

  “By taking matters into my own hands. Men prefer action, not words,” Eleanor said. “I shall show him. And remain in charge.”

  As soon as she returned to their room, she changed into her favorite gown, of indigo silk damask with a draped neckline, fitted sleeves and a short train. Her excitement built as she added a thick gold necklace. Just as she finished brushing her hair, there was a knock at the door.

  The news the messenger brought sent her to her knees in despair.

  Richard wanted to destroy the parchment in his hands. Crush, shred, burn. But getting rid of the evidence wouldn’t change reality.

  His marriage to Eleanor was officially over. She’d gotten her annulment, leaving them both free in the eyes of both Church and state to marry again.

  The dangling wax seals clacked as he stormed the halls. Let her see what her foolishness had wrought.

  He found her in the new, tiny chamber she’d already been reassigned to, since a man and woman who weren’t wed couldn’t share a room. She sat with a book in her lap, not reading, but staring at nothing. Her trunks were stacked next to the narrow bed.

  Did she have regrets? Why should she, when she was hours away from getting what she’d wanted most since the moment they’d met?

  To be rid of him.

  “No last-minute details to organize?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.

  “Hastings has taken charge of everything.” She looked tired and sad as the brown wool gown she wore, as if the life had drained from her. Her skin was ashen, her eyes dull.

  Richard wouldn’t feel sorry for her. He wouldn’t offer to help. She deserved this.

  “Here. Congratulations.” He handed her the parchment.

  Something that seemed oddly like hope flashed in Eleanor’s eyes until she glanced at the document. “Yes. I received a copy earlier today.” She seemed to sink in on herself. “I’d no idea we’d obtain this so quickly.”

  “All is as you wanted. King Edward facilitated our annulment because he agrees you should be released and I should be well compensated. Why shouldn’t I have a wealthier, superior bride? As you said, Edward needs coin in his coffers more than anything. So a better bride benefits him as well. He needs the wealthiest nobles to support his cause to thwart any remaining challengers loyal to the old king. Until his alchemists succeed.”

  She said nothing.

  “You should be well pleased,” he continued. At least one of them should be. He felt sick to his stomach.

  “Are you pleased?” Eleanor tipped her head up.

  “I live to give pleasure to my lady,” he said with a sweeping bow. “If she is satisfied, then am I.”

  “But I’m not your lady anymore.” Eleanor stood, the book and parchment falling to the floor. She said no more, but her eyes pleaded with him. For what?

  Richard stepped closer until they almost touched. He inhaled her unique, lemony scent for the last time. How he would miss that scent. How he would miss her.

  They’d probably never be alone again. If he’d known last night would be their final time sharing a bed, he’d have savored each moment. Tried one last time to convince her to stay with him.

  The ache in his heart was worse than when his father had been murdered. “Alack, no, you aren’t. And on the morrow I shall have a new lady to please. One who chooses me.”

  Richard didn’t want a new lady. He wanted Eleanor, his beautiful, intelligent, spirited former wife. There was no point telling her now. She hadn’t cared enough any of the other times he’d tried to win her. Though at first his goal had been to make her choose him so he could fulfill his duty, he also wanted Eleanor for herself. For her wit, spirit, beauty, and more.

  His heart skipped a beat. Did he love her? No. Thanks to Blanche, he couldn’t love her or anyone. Feelings that deep were for fools. He cared deeply, desired her, and had hoped to spend the rest of his life with her.

  No matter. It was too late. Their legal and religious ties had been severed. Nothing should bind them any longer. His continuing attraction to her combined with her nearness, the bittersweet parting and the intimacy of the small room, made him want things he shouldn’t.

  They stood as if fearful a single gesture would break the mood holding them enthralled. After a long, long moment Eleanor made the first move.

  She kissed him.

  Eleanor rejoiced when Richard kissed her back. He wanted her still. That was all that mattered.

  Without breaking their kiss, he slid an arm behind her knees and picked her up. He closed the door with a swift kick then set her down near the bed.

  Her heart lightened by a stone. There’d never be another man for her, but she couldn’t bring herself to let him know. Because all too soon he’d wed another woman because of her foolishness.

  They undressed speedily, tugging at laces, ties and ribbons. Pieces of clothing flew in all directions, hitting nearby walls and dropping to the floor. They seemed to share the same state of frenzied need.

  Soon she would be in his arms and feel his skin against hers.

  She could allow herself this final time with Richard, though he was no longer her husband in the eyes of God or man. Not being wed made him all the more compelling. For they’d finally chosen to be together, no longer ordered by the king or duty-bound by a marriage.

  Yet she wouldn’t let him inside her, no matter how much she wanted to. Bound by honor and duty as he wa
s, Richard might insist they wed again if he took her maidenhead, whether or not his decision displeased him, the king and lord chamberlain or the other brides. She just couldn’t spend the rest of her days knowing she was an obligation.

  Eleanor would cherish the sensations Richard aroused and revel in his kisses. She’d have only this too short time to remember him by. To remember what their marriage could have been like if she hadn’t been such a stubborn, prideful fool.

  A slight frown marred Richard’s brow. “Eleanor, please don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind again.” As if to prevent her from answering, he drew her into a scorching kiss.

  Richard needed her. His words restored her excitement, while his naked body pressed against hers aroused her further. After kissing her thoroughly, when her knees threatened to buckle and liquid desire seeped between her thighs, he released her.

  Eleanor drank in the sight of his muscular arms, his broad chest, his flat stomach. His erection enticed her. She met his gaze. The hungry look in his eyes empowered her. Richard could have almost any woman, but he wanted her.

  Everything ached when she pulled away. She wanted more than a few stolen kisses. She wanted what she could never have. His love. Unless…. The thrill of hope replaced pain.

  She fingered the sapphire ring he’d given her. When had it stopped weighing her down, ceased representing a noose of obligation, and become a comforting reassurance of commitment and promise for their future?

  Richard’s gaze was hot. “I want you.”

  She released him to recline on the bed. She opened her arms. “Then come to me.”

  Richard slid into her welcoming embrace. He couldn’t think of another place he’d rather be than in this tiny room on this tiny bed with Eleanor.

  His ex-wife.

  “Can you feel what you do to me?” He rubbed his erection against her.

  “I plan to do more,” she said.

  And though anticipation combined with her beautiful body and deep, soul-wracking kisses had hardened him to the point of no return, his amazing Eleanor had more temptations in store. Slowly she kissed her way down his chest to his stomach, then lower still. His stomach clenched as her tongue trailed downward.