Betrayed, Betrothed and Bedded

Betrayed, Betrothed and Bedded
Juliet Landon

THE GAME OF LOVE IS A DANGEROUS ONE IN THE COURT OF HENRY VIII…Betrayed by an ambitious father, forcibly betrothed to the handsome yet enigmatic Sir Jon Raemon, and soon to be bedded by the covetous King Henry, Virginia D’Arvall is the female pawn in a masculine game of desire, power and lust.Ginny is determined to keep her honour, but in these dangerous courtly games she will need to have her wits about her like never before. Will she realise that in Sir Jon she might just have all the love and protection she needs to survive?

THE GAME OF LOVE IS A DANGEROUS ONE IN THE COURT OF HENRY VIII…

Betrayed by an ambitious father, forcibly betrothed to the handsome yet enigmatic Sir Jon Raemon and soon to be bedded by the covetous King Henry, Virginia D’Arvall is the female pawn in a masculine game of desire, power and lust.

Ginny is determined to keep her honor, but in these dangerous courtly games, she will need to have her wits about her like never before. Will she realize that in Sir Jon she may just have all the love and protection she needs to survive?

‘So you don’t see it as an honour to be the King’s mistress? Many women would.’

‘His Majesty has a new wife,’ Ginny said, ‘of whom I am fond, sir. I would be shamed, not honoured. You, apparently, see things differently. You stand to gain.’

Sir Jon’s reply was not quite what she’d expected. ‘Believe it or not, mistress, I am not as eager as you seem to think to propel you with all haste into the King’s bed. I can manage without his rewards. So tell me,’ he continued, ‘is there someone else?’

Here was the perfect opportunity, Ginny thought, to invent some mysterious and handsome lover to whom she had given her heart, to show Sir Jon she could play the dalliance game as well as he. But for the life of her she could not do it, and the chance slipped away before she could make the slightest dent in his arrogance.

‘No,’ she whispered, looking at the gold aglets on his sleeve. ‘There’s no one.’

He lifted her chin to make her eyes meet his. But the shadows were deep and there was little for him to recognise except the blaze of hostility of which he already knew.

Praise for Juliet Landon:

‘Landon’s novel is charming, romantic and historically accurate; it’s a feast for the history-lover.’

—RT Book Reviews on

SCANDALOUS INNOCENT

‘Landon’s understanding of the social mores and language of the era flow through the pages of this sweet novel that gives a huge nod to Jane Austen…will please Regency aficionados.’

—RT Book Reviews on

THE RAKE’S UNCONVENTIONAL MISTRESS

‘Landon has written a titillating and entertaining battle of the sexes, one in which readers cannot help but take sides—both of them.’

—RT Book Reviews on

HIS DUTY, HER DESTINY

Betrayed, Betrothed and Bedded

Juliet Landon

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

JULIET LANDON’s keen interest in art and history, both of which she used to teach, combined with a fertile imagination, make writing historical novels a favourite occupation. She is particularly interested in researching the early medieval and Regency periods, and the problems encountered by women in a man’s world. Her heart’s home is in her native North Yorkshire, but now she lives happily in a Hampshire village close to her family. Her first books, which were on embroidery and design, were published under her own name of Jan Messent.

Contents

Prologue (#u3b1f388b-3e79-52e7-8457-8eb8c2967d14)

Chapter One (#u671c80ad-2bef-5ef4-ba1f-073cd84a885e)

Chapter Two (#u94dc0c9d-a80e-5c91-9b90-0b2bde709fdf)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Author Note (#litres_trial_promo)

Bibliography (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue

1536

There were still days that late autumn when the light was so bright and clear that it almost hurt the eyes. Even in England. On this particular morning, only a month before All Saints, the low sun bounced its rays across fields of stubble and flooded the sky with a cobalt blue that made the party of riders blink and shade their eyes against the glare.

‘Over there, see?’ said Sir Walter D’Arvall, pointing to a distant mark on the horizon. ‘The towers? Still in place, thank God.’ His voice held a tone of relief and excitement, for the grand and glorious priory towers and their bells were usually the first to be destroyed in King Henry’s purge of religious foundations since his much-publicised rift with his Holiness the pope.

In the small group accompanying Sir Walter, his second daughter, Ginny, had just returned home after living for over four years with a northern family and, having had enough of her mother’s attempts to count through the linen cupboard once more, had leaped at her father’s invitation to visit Sandrock Priory across the rolling downlands of Hampshire. The prior, Father Spenney, had a good-looking nephew, Ben. He and Ginny had known each other since childhood and, in her absence, they had seen each other only infrequently. There would be some catching up to do. She spurred her horse forwards along the tracks. ‘Is Father Spenney expecting us?’ she said, meaning, Is Ben expecting me? She hoped he had not taken his vows while she’d been away.

‘No,’ said her father. He did not tell her, as perhaps he ought to have done, that the other person he expected to meet at the priory was another neighbour, Sir Jon Raemon, heir to much of the land adjoining his own, and proprietor, for the past three years, of Lea Magna while his father was incarcerated in a French prison. At twenty-four years old, the responsibility for an estate the size of Lea Magna was considerable, more than most young men would have welcomed, but Sir Jon was the kind of man to make a good son-in-law, eager and competent. Now Ginny was back home, he might, God willing, be on the look-out for a well-bred, well-trained young woman to ease his path through life, and even if the dowry would not have set his heart racing, her looks, Sir Walter thought, might make up for what the dowry lacked. Although they might not, if Sir Jon turned out to be as pragmatic as himself. At well-turned sixteen, Virginia D’Arvall had an exceptional beauty, and Sir Walter had never believed he would have the slightest difficulty in finding a husband for her. So far, his theory had not been put to the test but today...today, it might be.

At Sandrock Priory, Sir Walter and Ginny were escorted into the library, where Father Spenney stood at the top of a ladder handing down books to a team of brown-clad monks. Not being a man of expansive gestures, he merely smiled his pleasure and climbed down, holding out his hands to his friend and neighbour. ‘A sorry state you see us in, Sir Walter,’ he said sadly. ‘I never thought to see such a day. Ah, well!’

‘We shall talk,’ said Sir Walter. ‘Then maybe...who knows...?’ He shrugged. ‘But you remember Virginia, Father? She was a lass of twelve or thirteen years when you last met. You see a change?’

‘Father,’ said Ginny, ‘we have all changed, except you.’ Her eyes searched for Ben amongst those monks who had begun a discreet exit. Finding a pair of adoring brown eyes, she smiled at the change in him, too. The same age as Ginny, Father Spenney’s nephew had never been in a position to develop his friendship with Sir Walter’s daughter, but as children there had always been an attraction that they knew could, with more contact, grow into something deeper. Now, with the priory about to be dissolved by Act of Parliament, it looked as if Ben and his uncle might be lost to them altogether unless her father offered them a home.

Father Spenney’s hand smoothed over the leather-bound volume on top of a pile, his fingertips lingering over the gold tooling and heavy jewelled clasp. ‘We’re trying to save them,’ he said. ‘You know what they’ll do with these, Sir Walter, if they get their hands on them? They’ll sell them to grocers and chandlers for wrapping paper. They’re sending books by the shipload to bookbinders for the leather and parchment. They reuse the metal pieces and the pages they’ll use as rags.’ His voice wavered, balking at the images of destruction. ‘Priceless,’ he whispered. ‘Hundreds of years old. Doesn’t he realise what’s happening to them?’