Chapter Ten
I am a Plantagenet. I am also descended from the kings of the Capetian dynasty. That makes me the most royal, unique, and potential powerful man the world has ever seen.
Those words were still rolling around in Andromeda’s head. She’d been scrubbing near the doorway simply because she wanted to catch a glimpse of Tristan. It hadn’t been with the intention of eavesdropping, but he had the kind of voice that resonated so that she’d heard every shocking word.
Now, she was stunned.
As he’d told de Wolfe, that makes you the servant of a king.
That made her the servant of a king, too.
Very quickly, she was starting to feel foolish. Foolish and unsteady and confused. But she hadn’t started out that way—not at all. She’d started out this day just like every other day since her arrival at Wrexham.
She’d come to prove her worth.
Seven days after her arrival at Wrexham, Andromeda was deeply entrenched in her new duties.
Never one to stand back and direct others, she was a producer.
She liked hard work. That was why she’d done well as a serving wench, because hard work didn’t frighten her, and cleaning up a twenty-seven-chamber keep was merely a challenge and not an intimidation.
Tristan had been appreciative from the start.
A word of thanks or praise always seemed to come from him, and she thrived on it.
She’d spent much of her life surrounded by kindness with Lord and Lady de Courcy, so the advent of a garrison commander who was grateful for her skills made her want to work harder.
But overhearing Tristan’s conversation with de Wolfe made her realize that she had been pining after a man who was royalty.
Not just English, but evidently French as well.
She’d heard the part about his finding the daughter of a Scots earl so he could gain more power.
Or maybe not so much power, as it would simply be finding a woman of his own social station. A lady with something to give.
Not an Irish lass descended from a king who was murdered for his throne.
She had absolutely nothing to give him.
Ashamed, not to mention greatly disappointed, Andromeda stood back and supervised the servants who were scrubbing the floors with salt and vinegar.
There were two male servants who had rags on the top of very long sticks, and they were dusting the cobwebs high on the walls and on the ceiling.
So far, it had been a productive morning, but that all changed when a young servant girl, whom she’d been using as a runner to bring salt and vinegar and water to those who were cleaning, came rushing back with more hot water and ended up slipping on the newly scrubbed floor, and all of that water crashed into Andromeda like a tidal wave.
Instantly, the entire lower portion of her garment was wet.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
Because she’d come with no clothing, she’d been wearing garments that Aldis had altered for her out of the painted wardrobe.
The unfortunate fact was that none of the clothing was meant to work in, as it was all very fine silks and brocades and more, so the moment the water hit the dress of green silk that she was wearing, the dye began to drain out of the fabric.
The girl began to panic. She’d fallen heavily when she slipped, landing on her back and hitting her head, but she was just rolling to her knees when she saw what she had done.
She pleaded for forgiveness and began to weep as the other servants saw what had happened.
One of the older women, who had worked in other fine households in the past, came up to Andromeda and took a close look at the fabric that was dripping green onto the floor.
“It can be saved, my lady,” she said as the servant girl wept. “It’s not worth tears, I promise. If you soak the dress, all of the dye should come out. Then you can simply dye it another color.”
Andromeda was looking down at herself with some dismay. “It was an accident,” she said. “I will put it aside for now, and we will decide what’s to be done with it.”
The old servant picked up the edge of the silk as it dripped. “I would remove it and put the entire dress in water to wash out the dye,” she said. “Then you can hang it up to dry. I can help you with it if you wish.”
Andromeda forced a smile at the old woman when she really felt like weeping. It was a borrowed dress, and she didn’t want Tristan to think she was careless with her things—but before she could reply, she heard his voice from behind.
“What’s amiss?”
Andromeda turned to see Tristan standing in the doorway in all of his auburn, manly glory.
Every time she saw him as of late, her heart skipped a beat.
She was willing to give in to the familiar giddy feeling she usually had when he was around, but then she remembered what he’d said to de Wolfe.
Not only had he laid bare his heritage, but he’d threatened the man with it.
Perhaps he’d do the same to her now that she’d ruined something he’d let her borrow.
“The dress was… damaged, my lord,” she said, hoping to explain before he became angry.
“It was not the servant’s fault. She slipped on the water because the floor has not yet dried.
But the garment… I have tried to be careful, I swear it, but the dresses you have permitted me to borrow are such fine garments, and they are not made to work in.
I will ask the servants to help me fix it, I promise. You needn’t worry.”
She was speaking rather quickly by the time she was finished, and she sounded nervous.
Tristan looked at her strangely because this wasn’t the woman he’d come to know over the past week.
A woman who could easily laugh, or was quick with her wit, or, quite frankly, was simply a pleasure to be around.
He tried not to look at her too much because he didn’t want any of his knights to think he had interest in her, as Addax already suspected, but he knew he hadn’t been very good at keeping his attention off her.
Like now.
She was the only thing in the room, as far as he was concerned.
“I’m not worried,” he said evenly. “And the garments are yours. I have given them to you. But why did you not tell me you needed more serviceable clothing?”
She looked at him in surprise. “It… it is not your burden, my lord,” she said. “You pay me well, and I am saving money to purchase the fabric I need for more durable clothing. Truly, you needn’t be concerned.”
He looked down at the bottom of her silk dress, now streaked with green as the color drained away.
“I beg to differ,” he said quietly. “You are doing work that I have asked of you in clothing that is clearly not up to the task. Much as soldiers or knights cannot work well without the proper weapons or protection, you cannot work well in clothing that is not suitable. It did not occur to me that the garments left behind in the wardrobe were unsuitable.”
“As I said, I am saving money for proper fabric, my lord.”
He shook his head before looking to the older servant woman who had been trying to help Andromeda with the dress. “What is your name, woman?” he asked.
The woman didn’t seem intimidated by him. “Leonie, my lord.”
“Do you know what Lady Andromeda is attempting to accomplish here?”
The woman gave him a blank expression before looking around, seeing that all of the servants had come to a halt because the garrison commander was in their presence. After a moment, she returned her attention to Tristan and nodded.
“Aye, my lord,” she said. “She’s trying to clean up a nest of men.”
Tristan tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “How true,” he said. “My point of the question was to ask you if you could continue her work while I take the lady away for a few hours. Can you manage it?”
Leonie nodded. “I can, my lord,” she said confidently. “I was a servant at Ruthin Castle for many a year. I know how to keep these dusty barns clean.”
Tristan was still smiling as he looked at Andromeda. “I think the task is well in hand,” he said. “Will you come with me?”
Andromeda still wasn’t sure what was going on or why he’d asked the old servant if she could take Andromeda’s place. “Where are we going?” she asked.
He motioned to her as he headed back into the solar. Reluctantly, she followed, tracking green water as she moved. She stopped just inside the doorway.
“I must remove this garment,” she said. “There will be green footsteps everywhere I walk if I do not.”
He glanced at her as he went to the table that contained a clutter of things. “Then go ahead and do so,” he said. “I will wait for you here.”
“Where are we going?”
He had a big, heavy chest sitting on the corner of the table, and he fussed with the lock. “Into the village,” he said. “There is a merchant there whom I have done business with before, and he has all manner of clothing and fabric. He should have something good enough for your purpose.”
Andromeda watched him open the chest and fish for something inside.
But as she watched him, her thoughts kept going back to what he’d said to de Wolfe.
The big, brawny knight with the neat beard and rather thick auburn hair was no ordinary man.
He could move mountains and countries according to him, and, clearly, de Wolfe had believed him.
She was feeling increasingly unnerved by it.
“When I have enough money and am ready to purchase fabric, I shall seek this merchant, my lord,” she said. “But I do not have enough money for what I need. The purchase must wait.”
He looked up from his chest. “I told you that I would supply you with whatever you need,” he said. “Hurry, now; go and change your clothing. I’ll have horses prepared.”
Andromeda couldn’t do it. “Please, my lord,” she said, trying not to sound like she was being obstinate. “I would rather purchase it myself. I am sorry if my appearance displeases you, but I do not want you to feel obligated.”