Chapter 7
The return to Keelington Court proved uneventful even if something of a reenactment of his earlier visit.
The lack of welcome from his hosts spoke loud and clear.
He and his men had camped overnight beneath Glumfell’s eaves, thus enabling them to make a morning appearance at the gatehouse.
Time enough for Lily to step up and greet him.
Or so he would have thought. Once again, however, she had most eloquently made her feelings known by absenting herself.
Instead, it had been Stanbury alone who offered him a lackluster greeting and shown him to this drab chamber, there to await his bride-to-be.
A pair of turtledoves cooed adoringly at each other. Back and forth they strutted and preened along the window ledge. Edward, watching them, chuckled at the irony.
He wondered how much longer Lily intended to continue with her tantrums. She did not know it yet, but she had met more than her match.
He leaned a hip against the table on which several documents and rolls of parchment were laid out. His gaze, though, remained on the doorway rather than on the documents.
He had asked to meet with her twice. Well, he had to admit, the word asked was not entirely accurate. Rather he’d announced he would meet with her and had made the journey specifically for that purpose. A no from her—or her father, for that matter—would not be sufficient excuse this time around.
He had not seen her since Mary of the Meadows.
Yesterday, he’d sent Sir Lanval ahead with several betrothal gifts for her. She’d promptly sent them back. He’d been told, in case he’d not picked up on it yet, that his soon-to-be affianced wife was unhappy with the alliance. Unhappy was perhaps not quite accurate, either.
None of this troubled Edward overmuch. It was her father’s decision, as far as that went.
Not hers. Her opinion did not factor, although her accord did.
The contracts were drawn. The gifts would await the lady in her new residence at some future moment.
They were, for the most part, heritage pieces of jewelry and belonged to Ravensworth.
They were, not incidentally, worth a considerable sum—possibly more than what remained of Stanbury’s estate.
Sir Lanval came back with an expression of pure joy on his face.
He’d been instructed by the gentle lady to inform his master that she would prefer to take up domestic residence in Satan’s Hell rather than marry such a debased, lunatical, arrogant, intolerant knave such as he.
Oh, and one who had no acquaintance with chivalry.
He noticed that Lanval had the audacity to count off the epithets on his fingers, ensuring that he left none out. “You have your work cut out for you, Edward. ‘Tis a warrior you have there, and nothing less,” he’d said.
Sir Lanval and Edward had fostered together. They were pages in the same household. Lanval had always been the more down-to-earth personality, while Edward had ambition. To see him brought down a peg or two was giving Lanval, and the rest of the elite guard, a great deal of enjoyment.
Edward less so. “You can wipe that smugness off your face, Lanval,” he’d told the man.
“Your men will provide her protection from here on out, and that will not leave much time to gather epithets. I want the men ready for anything. I’m not convinced that the lady’s relatives are fully resigned to the arrangement, yet. ”
Today, though, he chuckled over the returned gifts. At least, he told himself, she wasn’t mercenary.
All the same, he felt relieved when the door finally swung open and Lily stepped into the chamber. The nurse, the same large bosomy woman who had brought him Lily’s “no” message, sailed in behind her.
“Thank you, my good woman,” he said, swooping down on her like a bird of prey and turning her around. He steered her back toward the door. “Do not worry about your charge. Her safety is my primary concern, I assure you.”
“B-but… good, my lord, I’m her chaperone—” Mol sputtered, her brazen cheeks swelling with indignation.
Edward propelled her out of the chamber, and his squire, stationed outside, shut the door with a resounding bang.
Lily jumped almost out of her skin and her eyes followed the disappearing nurse in dismay.
“What is it you want?” she blurted, her arms stiff by her sides.
“You,” he said quietly and instantly regretted it. Frightening her to death was self-defeating. “But alas, I am told you don’t even want my gifts. I am bereft,” and he promptly invalidated the words with a broad smile.
“You do not look bereft,” she pointed out, frowning.
“Would it please you if I swore it on the stars, or is it the moon? I forget what the minstrels tell us.”
“’Tis the stars. The moon is inconstant,” she said with all sincerity. “As you would know if you lived by the code as a proper knight should.”
He blinked. Surely, she did not believe all that nonsense. Perhaps he should not delve too far along that particular path, just now. She was as nervous as a cat on coals, he could see.
“Will you not sit, my lady?”
“Why?”
”I thought we might be congenial for a while. Sit and talk, perhaps. I rather thought you might enjoy the challenge. Surely more interesting than having you retreat to the darkest corners of this somewhat gloomy and depressing chamber.”
“I’m sorry that the best room in the manor falls short of your expectations, my lord. I had not thought you to be concerned with frivolous decorations and such. Violence and domination are more in your line of work, aren’t they?”
“Ah, but then you don’t know me very well, do you? If you try, you might discover many attributes about me that will charm you. Before you know it, I will be irresistible in your eyes.”
Her response to his outrageous boast was delectable.
Her eyes grew wide with incredulity while at the same time, she barricaded her mouth with fingers pressed tight to contain her laughter.
She could not. A veil of mirth came from her cherry-red mouth.
Piercingly beautiful it sounded, and Edward found himself smiling back, encouraging more of her laughter.
Also, he noticed she’d advanced from her dark corner. A sign that she seemed ready to debate him? Perhaps.
“Oh, that will never happen,” she said with confidence. “‘Tis not often that I am wrong about people. And you are, I’m sorry to say, well… there’s little irresistible about you. I speak from a woman’s perspective, you understand.”
He chortled. “I gather you find me lacking,” he said and folded his arms over his chest. “I could spend a year in penance with a hermit and learn to reform. Perhaps then you would consider marrying me?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said impertinently. “But I might be able to help you find a ladylove, so you would not have to feel bereft,” she added in an attempt to soften the blow.
It was Edward’s turn to laugh out loud. “How very kind you are.”
Her response was diverting; he almost didn’t hear it. He was not used to people telling him no, even playfully. Although, come to think of it, he’d not been playful about anything for a long time. He wanted to prolong this delightful banter.
She is like a lily flower, he thought to himself. She made him remember forgotten things, like flowers in a field. Flowers a man might gather. Flowers to be plucked.
Edward sat back down on the table corner.
A familiar tightening in his groin marched onto the stage of his mind.
It might well have been the opening salvo of a campaign.
He knew, then, what he had already known subconsciously.
He was going to have her. There were no obstacles that he would not overcome to do so.
If, perchance, Lanval had seen his expression, he would have warned Lily that the tide had irrevocably turned against her. Edward had the look of a man who knew without doubt just where his standard would fly. The battle had begun.
Lily, oblivious to what it meant, fumbled about trying to assuage his disappointment. “My cousin, Constance Mayfield, has confessed a burning desire to wed. I am certain I could write to her and petition for you, if you still insist on marriage.”
Edward gave another shout of laughter.
“Alas, there are other considerations,” he said.
“Inconvenient as it may be, the contracts are agreed upon. Also, there is King Henry to consider. It does not do to leave a king out of your calculations.” Edward glanced out the window.
The morning grew late. Almost casually, he strolled around the table and crossed the room until he stood an arm’s length from her.
Her chin tilted up rebelliously as her humor gave way to caution. “I will not change my mind.”
“Your father has already consented, Lily. Your change of heart does not enter these negotiations, as you well know. Do you tell me that you will defy your father?”
When she did not answer, he said more softly, “You are stuck with me, Lily. I asked Henry for your hand myself, and he granted it full willing. You should know the truth of it. I assure you, you’ll have no false words from me, now or after.”
“But why me?” she asked.
“Truth is, you suit me better than any other woman I might have had. I acted on that belief and do not intend to obfuscate it now.”
She remained mute.
Edward found his temper pricked. “It occurs to me,” he said, “that there is no further need for delay, withal. You are unlikely to change your mind. Just so. I shall postpone my plans and order the banns to be read immediately.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she said, color draining from her cheeks.
He saw her thoughts skittering across her face like migrating birds at sunset. What, he wondered, is she concocting?
“I had thought to give you time to adjust to the idea of marriage, but there is no point. You have told me you will not change your mind. Delays are irrelevant as there will be no change of heart. We can call on the bishop and have the betrothal signed immediately and be wed once the banns are read.”