Betrayed, Betrothed and Bedded. Juliet Landon

shall not listen.’

      ‘I think you will. Your manner towards me before others will be polite and respectful at all times. I do not care what you try on in private. I can deal with that in my own way. But do not seek to chasten me by pretending I’m not there, as you have done at court.’

      ‘I can choose who I speak to, sir.’

      ‘Not anymore, you can’t. None of us can. We must be civil to everyone these days or make enemies of those who have the means to harm us. You should have learnt that by now. You’re about to enter a different world from this—’ he tipped his head towards the silver-grey garden ‘—where a harsher set of rules applies and, if you have the common sense your father tells me of, then you’ll allow yourself to be schooled by one who knows them well.’

      ‘Yourself, of course.’

      ‘That’s the king’s wish and your parents’, too.’

      ‘And how much is the king paying you to take on this onerous task, Sir Jon, since nothing my father could offer you three years ago was enough? How many abbeys has he promised you? Which particular titles did he bribe you with?’

      There was time enough for her words to fade away on the ice-cold air before he replied, searching her eyes as if to see behind them. ‘My, you are a bittersweet little termagant, aren’t you, mistress? Is that’s what’s been eating at you for three years?’

      ‘How could it, sir? We have seen nothing of each other until recently.’

      ‘And now we have? Still resentful?’

      ‘I resent being commanded to wed a man who has to be enticed so openly and expensively, sir. What woman could possibly be flattered by that?’

      ‘Wait a minute. That’s not the answer, is it? You’ve only just found out about the king’s wish, so why the cold shoulder at court?’

      ‘I really don’t know what you mean. I’m not one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, nor even one of her maids. I have not felt obliged to mingle as they do. We may be neighbours here in Hampshire, Sir Jon, but that doesn’t mean we have to like each other. You made your indifference plain from the start. Why should I not do the same?’

      ‘I have never been indifferent, Mistress D’Arvall. I was obliged to bide my time, that’s all.’

      ‘Ah, yes, of course. Biding your time. That’s done rather differently at court, I notice. A command from the king can make all the difference to one’s timing, can it not? There, I see that’s hit the nail on the head.’

      His head had dropped between his powerful shoulders as she laid bare the facts about timing and, when he lifted it, she could hear how the soft laughter caught at his words, feel the warmth of his breath, and smell the male odour of skin. Standing upright to release her, he replaced the black-velvet cap on his head as a sign that their conversation must end. ‘Correct,’ he said, smiling still. ‘A king’s command is a powerful thing, but don’t forget who else stands to gain from it, mistress. Your family. All of them. Does that mean so little to you? There was a time, I believe, when you would have needed no persuading.’

      Freed from his closeness, she pulled her cloak farther around her neck and faced the door, through which shouts could be heard. ‘Do try to understand me, Sir Jon, if you will. I am as set against the king’s command, and my father’s, as it is possible to be. If I could find a way out of it, I would. Persuasions are superfluous, aren’t they, when consent has been removed? It’s one thing to be noticed by the king and to have the honour of being his friend, but it’s quite another when he tells me who I should marry. It would matter little who you were, sir. My resentment would be the same.’

      His arm came across her once more, preventing her first step. ‘And you should try to understand me, mistress, when I say that your reasons are far from watertight. But we’ll let that go for lack of time. Just remember what I said to you about a more respectful demeanour, for I’ll not be made to look foolish by a woman again.’ Dropping his arm, he moved away to open the garden door, and there was no time to ask what he meant by that before the king’s hounds came bounding forwards to greet them. Sir Jon was relieved by not having to find an answer to his slip of the tongue, as he was by the controversial question of penalties, for if she had asked for examples, he would not have been able to invent a single one.

      * * *

      No one could fail to be impressed by King Henry, for if size alone had been a measure of kingship, he would have won hands down. At forty-nine years old, his girth had expanded to enormous proportions, exaggerated by the winter bulk of padding and furs, making the whippet-like figure of Sir Walter D’Arvall look like a toy beside him. The heavy fur-lined gown was thrown back to expose a chest like a house side, encrusted, embellished, puffed, slashed, and hung with chains and pendants as big as tartlets. Everything about him was large except his prim little mouth and glittering beady eyes that darted over the top of Lady Agnes’s head as he raised her to her feet with gentle courtesy. His eyes alighted at last on Ginny, standing with the escort she had not planned to meet until much later, when it suited her. ‘Ah, there you are, Mistress D’Arvall. Are you glad to see me again?’

      Ginny came forwards to make a low curtsy. ‘Indeed, Your Grace. As are we all. Welcome to our modest home,’ she said, already practised in deflecting Henry’s attention from herself to more general themes. This occasion was going to require all her wits to stay out of deep waters, and Sir Jon’s presence would hardly make things any easier. His appearance beside her was immediately remarked on.

      ‘Raemon! Didn’t lose much time in finding her, did you? Eh? Made any progress, or is it too soon?’

      Sir Jon had expected this kind of tactlessness. It was Henry’s privilege. One either had to squirm and accept the humiliation, bluff it out with similar frankness or stand on one’s dignity. ‘Like you, sire, I made good haste,’ he said, smiling. ‘As would any man.’

      Henry nodded, satisfied. ‘Your brothers are here, too,’ he said to Ginny. ‘We must have them with us at such a time. Can’t leave them out, can we?’

      ‘Hawking is one of their favourite pastimes, Your Grace. You have chosen a perfect time for it, while the air is clear,’ she said.

      His smile became paternal as he bent his head towards her. ‘Ah, mistress,’ he said, so close that she could smell his sour breath, ‘that was not my meaning. I invited your brothers along to witness your betrothal to this fine fellow here. Surely your lady mother has told you of our wishes?’

      It took every ounce of Ginny’s self-control to stifle a cry of defiance at that, having only just learned who her eventual husband was to be, and that there was no way out of it. What was the urgency? Why now? Why the indecent haste for a betrothal, as if she might run away? Forlorn hope. ‘So soon?’ she whispered.

      Taking her response for maidenly reticence, Henry glanced at Ginny’s parents, unable to conceal the desire in his piggy eyes. ‘Charming,’ he said. ‘What modesty. She does you credit. Now, Lady Agnes, a glass of your Rhenish would be more than welcome after that long ride. Eh?’ Leaning heavily on the arm of a well-dressed young man, he limped away towards the porch where the warmth of the great hall would begin the slow thaw of fingers and toes.

      Yet despite Sir Jon’s recent warning to her, Ginny’s glare of sheer fury could not be held back and, though it was met by the unmistakable caution in his eyes, her snarled question found its mark. ‘You knew of this, didn’t you? Am I to be the last to know what’s going on here?’

      ‘Later,’ he whispered. ‘We’ll talk later.’

      ‘I’ll be damned if I’ll talk to you,’ she muttered, ‘or him.’

      ‘Shh! For pity’s sake, have a care, woman. He’s not deaf.’

      Fortunately for Ginny, the hum of voices covered their heated exchange while Sir Jon’s hopes of a more compliant attitude from her seemed as far away as before. Obviously it would take more than a hurried warning to make any impression