Tricky snorted and moved to stoke the fire. Even in the summer, the castle chambers were damp and cold at night. “Of course. I do not miss the grumblings of that malcontent Clem when I step out of the room. But I had aught I wished to speak with him on, and now he is gone.”
“Certainly you can send for him if your need is that great,” Madelyne replied, shaking her head. “Tricky, I do not understand why you are so overset.”
The plump maid collapsed on a stool. “I meant to talk with Clem upon my return, but he wasn’t here.” She stood just as abruptly as she’d sat. “I’m sorry, my lady, for burdening you with my silly complaints when you are waiting for my assistance!”
She began to help Madelyne disrobe, chattering all the while. “’Tis said that you are to be wed anon,” she said. “All of the court speaks of the shy woman from the abbey who will have a husband chosen for her.”
Madelyne felt the coldness settle over her again, and sat slowly on the stool recently vacated by Tricky. “Aye, my friend. It appears to be so. The king will not allow me to return to the abbey, and he has decreed that I must wed. I have prayed long and hard over it—you know that, Tricky. Yet, there appears to be no way other than to abide by the king’s wishes.” She felt the weight on her head lessen as her maid pulled the pins from the coils of hair and they opened, falling straight.
“My lady…you have agonized long over what you cannot control. You must embrace your new life with a bold face and courage.”
“You have the right of it…and deep in my heart I’ve come to believe that is what God expects of me.”
“Aye, the matter has been taken from your hands by the king—the highest power on this earth other than the pope. You are right to believe it is God himself who pushes you in that direction. You are not meant to devote your life to Him. I know now that I am not meant to either.” Her last words were softer, but firm. “I will not return to the abbey, Madelyne. Indeed, I should wish to remain with you for as long as you desire—in whatever capacity you wish.”
Madelyne turned in her perch on the stool, looking up at the befreckled face of her companion. “Tricky, of course you may stay with me. Indeed, I am gratified that you should wish to…and I will relish having a friend rather than a maid at my side.” She reached for her hand and squeezed.
Patricka smiled, tears springing to her eyes in big, large drops. “Thank you Madelyne. I am meant to be your maid, though. I hold no title and have no other attribute to commend me. I truly wish that, for you are a friend as well as a mistress.”
“Indeed. As you wish—but you must call me Madelyne when we are alone. I do not wish to have that distance between us.”
Tricky hugged her from behind, then returned to the task at hand. “Now, Madelyne, tell me what you feel for handsome Lord Reginald. ’Tis said throughout the court that he woos you and presses his suit to the king. There are others who would do the same, you know, but he is the most vocal. ’Tis believed that he would be a good match for you.”
Madelyne swallowed back the lurch of her heart into her throat. “Lord Reginald has said the same. I do not know what to think. He is kind and gentle. I don’t wish to wed, but if I must—which I know that I must—it would not alarm me were he chosen.”
“Has he kissed you yet, my lady?” asked Tricky mischievously.
“Kissed me? Of course not.”
“Oh.” Tricky sounded disappointed. “I was certain he had. Do you not wonder what it would be like to be kissed by a man? I wondered for so long, and now it has been by two men I have been kissed in this last fortnight.”
“I do not wonder what ’twould be like, as I
At the same moment, Tricky paused from tying the back of Madelyne’s gown to peer around into her face. “If Lord Reginald has not kissed you, then who has?”
Blood rushed to Madelyne’s face. “I should have said nothing,” she stammered. “’Twas foolish to speak of—it meant nothing. Who is it that you have kissed besides Jube?”
“That naysayer Clem,” Tricky said in disgust. “But that was long since passed, and he has been naught but rude and edgy since then.” She sighed, then giggled. “Poor man…he does not know that he is meant to wed with me, so he fights his desires. He believes ’tis Jube I love, and I have half a mind to let him think so betimes—the man is so thick-headed!” Even as she spoke, Madelyne saw her reach for the wormwood comb that Clem had bought her.
“You are going to wed with Clem?” Madelyne asked, glad to have deflected Tricky’s interest in her own kissing experience—and bewildered by her friend’s sudden change of heart. “Were you not complaining what a malcontent he is? Were you not grousing that you do not wish even to speak with him?”
“Oh, aye, but ’twas only because I was angry with him, you see…the man does not know yet that we will wed. He believes only that he is annoyed by me…little does he know that ’tis love he feels and does not know how to scratch that itch!”
With a little frown on her apple-cheeked face, Tricky resumed her duties and began to drag the comb through Madelyne’s long tresses. “’Tis glad I am that Jube kissed me too, else I would never have known that Clem—the oaf—is the man for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“’Tis in the kiss, Maddie. Do you remember what Peg said—’tis by the kiss that you will know. And he will know too—the kiss that makes your head spin. Jube’s kiss was nice and pleasant, but it stirred my insides little more than a wisp of a breeze…but Clem…ohh, Maddie, ’twas like I was caught in a storm on the ocean and could not find a secure holding for the life of me…and I became hot and fluttery… ” She yanked too hard with the comb, pulling a short yelp from her mistress. “I am sorry, my lady!” she apologized, and silence ensued as Tricky concentrated on combing her hair without balding her mistress as Madelyne mulled over her friend’s words.
Then, as Tricky replaced the comb on its table, she turned to look at Madelyne. “Who is it who has kissed you if it was not Lord Reginald?”
Again, heat swarmed Madelyne’s face. “Nay, Tricky, I do not wish to tell. It was nothing.”
“You must tell me Madelyne. I want to know!” Tricky planted her hands on her hips and stood in front of her, glowering. “If I am to be your maid, I must know all so that I can advise you and look out for your best interests.”
Madelyne, though not convinced by her maid’s argument, drew a deep breath. Part of her wished to tell… someone. “Lord Gavin. ’Twas Lord Gavin.”
Tricky squeaked in shock. “Lord Mal Verne kissed you?”
“Be still!” Madelyne snapped, looking toward the heavy door. Could Jube—or Rohan—hear what was being said?
“Lord Gavin kissed you?” Tricky had lowered her voice, but now stared at her assessingly. “I should never have guessed that, my lady. That puts quite a different light on things.”
“What?” Madelyne asked. “What do you mean?”
But Tricky did not reply; just looked at her shewdly, brows crinkling and lips settled firmly, nodding her head as though some great mystery had been revealed.
Nineteen
“I’ve seen nor heard nothing of de Belgrume,” Gavin told the king. It was evening, and he sat in a large cushioned chair in the king’s private bedchamber.
Henry paced, as always, hands clasped behind his back. “He has been too quiet and I fear that he plots something. I much prefer to know where he is and what it is he does.”
“I cannot disagree,” Gavin replied. “But he seems to have disappeared and is nowhere to be found here at Whitehall. Mayhap he has taken his twisted self back to Tricourten for a time…but I do not believe that is likely.”
