The Scandalous Duchess

‘The angels are free to make their own judgement. This is not their concern. This is between you and me.’

And before I could speak he had framed my face with his hands and kissed my lips, the gentlest, most tender of kisses, his lips just brushing mine. It took my breath.

‘There,’ he said. ‘I knew that kissing you would be like sipping honeyed wine. And God will forgive me for taking it.’

Which robbed me even more of words. How like him, I thought mutinously. How like the Duke of Lancaster to flout convention and woo me so carnally in this holy place, in the sight of God, and apparently with all due reverence.

‘If I recall,’ he continued, ‘your hair—which you do not allow me to see—would challenge the sun itself in its brightness.’ Then: ‘Look at me, Katherine.’

And I did. I had no will to resist under the power of his words even if I had not been entranced by that kiss. The Duke’s eyes, reflecting the gilding on angel and cherub, were level and clear on mine.

‘I saw you in my audience chamber and I wanted you. You know that. I wanted you to be mine. I still do, and I won’t let you go. You were made to belong to me. It is my right to claim you.’

As if there could be no other reason for our being here. Perhaps there was no other for a man such as he. He saw me and wanted me. I simply stared. If the angels were astounded to hear it so forcefully expressed, so was I.

His hands moved slowly down from my shoulders in one long caress, until he was in possession of my hands.

‘You came to me because you needed help,’ he said. ‘There you stood, pale and worn and overwrought with too many sleepless nights and worries, and for the first time since I had known you, you were in need. I had never thought of you as fragile, but on that day I wanted to lift the burden from your shoulders.’ His breathing was rather fast, matching mine. ‘I still do. And I want more than that. I want to strip that black garment from you and take you to my bed and show you the pleasures that can exist between a man and a woman who have, if you will, an attraction. I will care for you, protect you and bestow every comfort on you. I will respect you and hold you in esteem. You will be my mistress and my heart’s desire. All I ask is that you say yes, for I have a powerful need of you.’

He was so close that I thought he would kiss me again. And that if he did not I would drown in longing.

The Duke kissed me. Not a tender embrace, no fleeting moment, no chivalrous brush of mouth against mouth, but a kiss of heat, of passion. Of promise of what might be. And I drowned anyway in the splendour of it.

At last, when I clung to him, the Duke lifted his head. ‘Well, Madame de Swynford, my superbly respectable, black-clad widow? What do you say?’

There was the shadow of passion, now well governed. What could I say to so powerful a declaration, such a heart-stopping invitation? Severe in my widow’s black, my thoughts anything but respectable, I regarded him, thinking of what this would mean for me.

‘You wish me to be your mistress,’ I stated.

‘Yes.’

‘You wish me to be part of your household.’

‘Of course.’

‘You will treat me with respect and esteem.’

‘Yes. I will revere and honour you as well. Before God, Katherine! Is this a catechism? Here it is, laid out for your appreciation. I cannot give you my name.’ As if negotiating a deal between traders, I found myself thinking in a moment of ridiculous levity. ‘I cannot give you any recognition in the eyes of the world, but all I am, and all that is within my power to give you happiness, that is what I can give you. That is what I offer you, Katherine de Swynford, if you will only stop prevaricating and step willingly into my arms.’

The candles, now burning low, seemed to leap and shiver, casting an even greater mystery over our surroundings, even more furious reactions on the faces of the angelic throng.

‘I can still see your heart beating through the shiver of your veil,’ he continued when I remained mute, attempting to encompass all. ‘Can you breathe enough to give me a reply? Why can you not simply accept that you and I should be together?’

He wanted me. John of Lancaster desired me. The levity returned in full force.

‘If I give myself to you, will you fetch wood for me?’ I asked.

His brows rose, his eyes gleamed, but he replied with equanimity.

‘I will. And all else you ask 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.’