The Bride Of Spring

Benedict leaned back in his chair, looking closely at this young king. He was somewhat like his father in appearance. Whether or not he would ever attain Richard’s wisdom and devotion to England could not yet be known.

Benedict gave himself a mental shake. Assessing the king was not why he was here. “Your majesty—”

The king interrupted him. “Please, you were my father’s friend and seemed like an uncle to me when I was a lad. Do not stand on ceremony now because of that,” he said, gesturing toward the velvet-draped throne beside them. “You may address me as Edward, as you always have.”

Benedict nodded. “I think I must not be too presumptive, your majesty. Your father and I were friends, but that does not mean you owe me any more familiarity than other men. You are king of England now.”

Edward smiled at him. “I am king, but I hope that you will remain friend to me in spite of that, as you would have to my father had he lived to take the throne.”

How could Benedict do other than bow his head in acquiescence? “I would feel privileged to count myself that, sire. But I must keep this meeting upon a more formal footing because of its nature. As I said when I arrived, I would ask a boon of you, my lord.”

Edward nodded, obviously seeing the seriousness of his intent. The grave expression of ruler settled on his intelligent young face.

Benedict went on. “Some months ago, my brother Tristan slew Maxim Harcourt.”

Edward propped his fingers together thoughtfully. “I have had some correspondence with his brother, Alister Harcourt, on this matter.”

“As have I, sire, though I did not know that the fact of his having a brother was more than rumor until the man’s first letter arrived. He is, understandably, angry at what Tristan has done, as you must know from your own contact with him.”

Again Edward nodded as Benedict continued. “Clearly he feels himself justified in his anger, and due to the circumstances, I would not fault him on that. Yet I must tell you, your majesty, that he does not know the full events that led up to his brother’s death, which, I feel, exonerate Tristan.”

“Why do you not then apprise him of the facts?”

Benedict hesitated. “The situation is…well, delicate. You see, it involves my brother’s wife, Lillian Ainsworth, formerly Lillian Gray.”

Edward shrugged, though the name did not seem new to him. Benedict was beginning to realize that the king was not quite as oblivious concerning this subject as he had first appeared. He probably did indeed know a great deal of the facts. Yet when he spoke it was still in that same unconcerned vein. “Harcourt’s letters have contained some mention of this woman and that she was his brother’s intended bride. He seems to be of the opinion that your brother Tristan spirited her away, thus bringing about the conflict in which his brother died.”

Benedict was very glad that he was not attempting to get anything past this young king. Young he might be, but dim he was not. “That is, in part, true. Yet there are mitigating circumstances that, as I said, exonerate Tristan of any real wrongdoing in this.”

Edward sat back with raised brows. “Again I say, why do you or your brother not simply make his reasons known?”

Benedict frowned. “That would mean telling Alister Harcourt a very involved and extremely private tale. He could then relay the story to any who would heed him. Knowing nothing of his character, I hesitate to give him the power over my brother and his wife that knowing their secrets might afford. You see, sire, Lily and Tristan had been lovers three years before her engagement to Maxim, and there is a product of that union. My niece, Sabina.”

Edward leaned forward. “I begin to see. You would not have this bandied about by those he might tell.”

“Aye, sire. Lily and Tristan have been through enough. They had never intended for the child to be born out of wedlock. Due to an accident, Lily and Tristan were separated. When she awoke, she recalled nothing of Tristan or the babe. Her family felt it best to keep her past from her. It was not until Lily was on her way to marry Maxim Harcourt that Tristan saw her and kidnapped her, completely unaware that she recalled nothing of her past with him. Although I would not follow my brother’s method, I do understand his actions. He and Lily did have the prior commitment. Maxim Harcourt was killed in fair combat against Tristan.”

Again Edward nodded. “So what is it you ask of me, Benedict? Do you wish for me to make an explanation to Alister Harcourt that would disabuse him of his perceived grievance with you and your family?”

Benedict shook his head. “As I have told you, knowing nothing of the man’s character, I have no wish to tell him anything of my family’s misfortunes. Neither would I ask the crown to place itself in the position of contriving some excuse for me. What I would propose is that I pay a penalty to him by way of lands and monies. In that way he would feel that his perceived wrong had been avenged in some small way.”

Light dawned in Edward’s eyes. “And you wish for me, as the king, to oversee this transaction?”

“If you will be so kind as to do so. It might then seem as though you had set the penalty yourself. I would also have your approval of the transfer of the land and keep. You would not appear to be showing me any undo favor, as your father’s friend, and I would have no need to explain to Tristan what I am about. He is a proud man and would certainly rather take care of this matter himself, if he knew of it. And would do so quite well, I am certain. I simply wish to see that he and his new bride have some peace in their lives now. As I said, they have faced much to find a new life with one another.” Benedict was not unaware of the slightly wistful quality in his own voice when speaking of their love, and was surprised at it. Though he was very happy for the couple, he had no real desire to experience such an all-consuming love.

Brackenmoore and his family were his passions. And that was the way he wanted it. Perhaps it was the recent wedding and all the joyous emotions around it that had left him with an uncharacteristically romantic bent.

He focused his attention on Edward, who looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment. The king smiled. “Have you considered coming to live at court, Benedict? We can make use of such a diplomatic mind as yours.”

Benedict shook his head. “I am much too occupied with running my estates, your majesty. I will leave the life of diplomacy to those who seek it.”

Edward smiled again, this time ruefully, and pulled on the tasseled cord beside the dais. Immediately the steward entered, through a door partially hidden behind the throne. “Your majesty?”

Edward addressed him. “Fetch me a clerk.”

The man bowed and left as Edward rose and moved toward the table near the window. He poured wine from a gold pitcher into two ruby-colored glasses, then turned to hand one to Benedict. “Just out of curiosity, am I prepared to be generous toward Alister Harcourt?”

Benedict smiled for the first time. “Oh, reasonably so, my lord, reasonably so.” He raised his glass to drink.

Raine had heard every word as the clerk came and then went again, though she could see nothing from behind the heavy drapery. The more she heard, the more she wished to learn about Benedict Ainsworth, wished to see him. Yet she dared not risk looking out from her hiding place, for as the men talked she had begun to realize that she had indeed risked much in secluding herself in order to overhear the private conversation of a king.

Few would believe that she had done this in order to discover all she could about a man she did not even know, even if she could explain her reasons to them. Yet Raine did not wish to worry about the possibility of being found out. All she had heard of Benedict Ainsworth had made her even more intrigued by him. He seemed a good, decent man, willing to give up his own property and money to protect the reputation of his brother’s wife and her child.

As Raine listened to Benedict give the specifics of what he was willing to offer, she was again moved by his care for his family. If only she had a man to look after her in that way, someone like Ainsworth! Things might have been different for her if only there had been someone who felt a family affiliation to herself and William.

But there was only Denley, and he cared nothing for them. Of that she was sure. He pretended a great interest in herself, but Raine knew of his longtime mistress, of their children.

He kept them openly at his own home. Raine was somewhat surprised that he would not expect her to have had word of them. Perhaps he simply gave it no thought whatsoever. Many men kept both a mistress and a wife, though not nearly so openly.

If Raine were ever to marry a man with the intention of actually living with him, she would never allow herself to be so blatantly dishonored. If she were not required to wed for the sake of protecting William and his lands she would…Her thoughts trailed down a list of qualities she would desire in a man.

He would favor her with a modicum of respect.

He would be kind.

He would have his own wealth and thus would not wish to take what was William’s.

He would behave with honor.

He would understand the meaning of family.

Again she found herself becoming aware of the two men’s voices. She could not help noting that Benedict Ainsworth’s seemed somehow deeper and richer than the king’s. At the same moment she realized that they sounded closer than before.

Obviously the men were coming toward her. She strained to see through the dense velvet. If only she could give face to the voice she heard! Surely they were too intent on their conversation to pay her any heed. Moving ever so carefully, she peeked out from behind the curtain.

And realized that the two men had moved even nearer than she had imagined and were standing mere feet from her. The heaviness of the drape had muffled the sound of their voices and made them seem farther away. She quickly drew back, but not before she had glimpsed the face of Benedict Ainsworth. It was an arresting face, with kindness, warmth and firmness of character displayed in the smooth wide brow and the slight lines around his eyes. It was also a handsome face, with its pleasantly modeled and strong features, including a regal, straight nose and a pair of intense eyes of a startlingly deep cobalt-blue. Those direct and compelling eyes were surrounded by thick black lashes the same color as his raven hair.

Raine’s heart felt like a throbbing drum in her chest, even though she was sure they had not seen her, for neither had been looking in her direction.

Under no circumstances did she wish to be caught. Again she asked herself who would believe that she had hidden herself here for the reasons she had. Even if they would, she would not wish to admit her motives to either Edward or Ainsworth himself.

At the thought of Benedict Ainsworth, another image of that pleasing face flashed though her mind. In spite of the risk, she felt a compelling desire to look at him again, to see if she had only imagined such an attractive visage.

Benedict and Edward looked up at the same moment as the steward appeared in the door once more. “Your grace, an envoy has arrived with a reply to your message to France. I have taken him to a private chamber as you requested me to do upon his arrival.”

Edward was very suddenly a king again as he replied, “I come.”

He nodded to Benedict, who bowed deeply even as Edward left the chamber. The steward, taking care to pretend that he was not watching Benedict, moved to tidy the glasses they had used.