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Her Banished Lord
Carol Townend
Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesClaimed by the Norman Count Hugh Duclair, Count de Freyncourt, has been accused of sedition, stripped of his title and banished from all of King William’s land. Proud and determined, Hugh vows to clear his name!Childhood friend Lady Aude de Crèvecoeur offers her help – but how far will she go? Should she risk her reputation and her life, or save her reputation and become Hugh’s wife? Turbulent times call for passionate measures…Wessex Weddings Normans and Saxons, conflict and desire!
‘Hugh, what are you doing?’ She thumped her fist on his chest, scandalised. Hugh liked baiting her, but this was ridiculous.
A large hand reached for her, it whispered across her cheek. Her hood was pushed back. They were kneeling facing each other. On her bed. Because of her lack of height Hugh had to stoop his head, and it brought his lips very close to hers.
Despite the poor light, everything snapped into sharp focus. Hugh’s eyes were very dark, his expression arrested.
‘Hugh?’
She could hear their breathing; she could hear the mutter of voices in the hall and the soft hiss of rain in the mud outside. Time seemed to slow.
His hand slid round the back of her neck and carefully, eyes never leaving hers, he brought her closer.
‘Hugh, you really should not have climbed in here.’ Aude’s thoughts raced. She was an unmarried lady and her reputation here in England was unsullied. It simply was not done for a lady to have a man in her bed—even though he was her brother’s friend and it was perfectly innocent.
Hugh smiled.
Author Note
Crèvecoeur Château in Normandy still exists, although in the eleventh century it would have looked very different. There would have been wooden buildings and a motte and bailey—a defensive mound and a yard within a palisade.
A little before the year this novel begins, the real Lord of Crèvecoeur was banished; he spent many years in exile. This is not his story. The characters in these pages are entirely fictitious, although the themes of disgrace and injustice proved rich sources of inspiration.
On marriage rites: in the early Middle Ages many marriages were solemnised by a church blessing—but a church blessing, although desirable, was not yet mandatory. In the eleventh century a marriage simply had to be declared before witnesses to be considered binding.
During the course of the eleventh and twelfth centuries the Church began to regularise the varying traditions. The need for clear inheritance laws helped speed this process along, and over time more and more weddings took place under the auspices of the Church.
To my brother David,with particular thanks for all the photos,And to Dad for so many happy memoriesof the Yorkshire Dales.
Her Banished Lord
Carol Townend
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Carol Townend has been making up stories since she was a child. Whenever she comes across a tumbledown building, be it castle or cottage, she can’t help conjuring up the lives of the people who once lived there. Her Yorkshire forebears were friendly with the Brontë sisters. Perhaps their influence lingers…
Carol’s love of ancient and medieval history took her to London University, where she read History, and her first novel (published by Mills & Boon®) won the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s New Writers’ Award. Currently she lives near Kew Gardens, with her husband and daughter. Visit her website at www.caroltownend.co.uk
Recent novels by the same author:
THE NOVICE BRIDE
AN HONOURABLE ROGUE
HIS CAPTIVE LADY
RUNAWAY LADY, CONQUERING LORD
Praise for Carol Townend
THE NOVICE BRIDE
‘THE NOVICE BRIDE is sweet, tantalising, frustrating, seductively all-consuming, deliciously provocative…I can’t go on enough about this story’s virtues. Read this book.
You’ll fall in love a hundred times over.’
—Romance Junkies
‘From the very first words, this story snatches the reader from present day, willingly pulling hearts and minds back to the time of the Norman conquest. Culture clash, merciless invaders, innocence lost and freedom captured—all wonderfully highlighted in this mesmerising novel.’
—Romance Reader at Heart
AN HONOURABLE ROGUE
‘Ms Townend’s impeccable attention to detail and lush, vivid images bring this time period to life.’
—Romance Reader at Heart
‘Anyone who wants to read a very satisfying and heart-warming historical romance will not go wrong with AN HONOURABLE ROGUE by Carol Townend.’
—Cataromance
HIS CAPTIVE LADY
‘Ms Townend does an excellent job of drawing readers into the world of the Saxons and Normans with clever dialogue and descriptions of settings and emotions. I give this book a very high recommendation!’
—Romance Junkies
Chapter One
The river port of Jumièges, Normandy
Lady Aude de Crèvecoeur eyed her brother in some dismay. It was early morning and she and Edouard, Count of Corbeil, had left their lodgings at the Abbey and were walking along the quays. Judging by the set of her brother’s face, Aude feared that he had already discovered what she had done. Why else would he be steering her to that particular jetty?
Edouard’s squire, Raoul, was following a discreet distance behind them. Aude had the lowering feeling that Raoul might be under orders to catch her should she make a run for it.
Oh, Lord. She had been planning to confess the whole today in any case, but perhaps she should have been honest with Edouard from the first. A light breeze was playing with her veil, teasing a strand of copper-coloured hair from its plait. Behind them the Matins bells rang out from the Abbey towers.
Her mind raced. What best to do?
Edouard loathed it when people kept things from him. And that of course, was exactly what Aude had done. She had been too cowardly to tell him that she was not ready to fall in with his plans for her.
Under an immaculate summer sky, the port was coming to life. Bales of English fleeces were being offloaded from one of the barges. They skirted round them. She had long been dreading this moment, but Edouard must be made to realise that she was serious about leaving Normandy. She had booked passage to Honfleur, and from there—England!
Did he know? She would not rush to confession until she was more certain of his mood. They walked on, towards the very barge on which she had booked her passage. Lord. Edouard must know. It was obvious something was bothering him.
The port was relatively peaceful. The water was at a very low ebb—at the mouth of the Seine, near Honfleur, the tide must be out. On the opposite bank a small ferry was making ready to cast off and cross the shrunken river. Behind the ferry, white cliffs reared heavenwards, blinding in the morning sun. It had always struck Aude as odd that here in the port the bank was so low, while on the other side, there were those tall white cliffs.
Face set, looking neither to right nor left, Edouard came to a halt next to the river barge that was bound for Honfleur, the very one on which Aude had reserved her place. She braced herself. ‘Edouard, I have a confession to make…’
But Edouard’s attention had been caught by a sudden burst of activity on the barge so he hadn’t heard her. Guilt tightened Aude’s stomach. Edouard would be furious, he had plans for her, plans which did not include her touring her recently acquired estate in England.
Lifting her green skirts clear of a coil of ropes, Aude kept her eyes fixed on her brother’s face. They had passed the night in comfortable beds in the Abbey lodge; she had seen to it that they had eaten a filling breakfast at one of the inns. She had hoped to put him in a good mood. Edouard must be made to understand. To Aude that English estate represented a hard-won freedom: freedom from duty, freedom from convention, freedom to be herself. Acquisition of that English estate had given her the independence she had dreamed of, and she was not going to give that up, for anyone.
‘Edouard?’
‘Mmm?’
Her brother was fascinated with the barge. A barechested sailor was tossing orders in all directions, brusquely indicating that some of the cargo should be shifted from one side of the deck to the other. Shocked, Aude gave the sailor a sidelong glance, wondering why the ship’s master permitted this man to work half-naked; it simply was not done.
By his looks, the man had Viking ancestry. He had thick brown hair which had been burnished blond by the summer sun and he was most beautifully formed. Those shoulders, those back muscles—the Duke’s champion would kill for a body like that…
A sharp quiver that Aude was unable to identify ran through her. The half-naked sailor seemed vaguely familiar, but how could that be? She knew no common sailors. Aude frowned, but with his back to her, the man’s face was hidden.
With a wrench she tore her gaze from the beautifully formed sailor and tucked her arm more firmly into her brother’s.
‘Edouard?’
‘Hmm?’
‘I am trying to tell you something important. It would help if I had your full attention.’
Edouard reached across to tuck a coppery tendril of hair back beneath her veil.
‘A confession, you say?’ His eyes gleamed, and though that tightness had not left his face, Aude could see no anger in his expression, not for her. Some of the tension left her. ‘Hadn’t you better wait until our appointment with the Abbot this afternoon? He will be only too pleased to hear your confession, I am sure.’
Aude swallowed. Her throat remained dry, as though she were nervous, which was ridiculous. Edouard might be Count of Corbeil, but he was also her brother. Would he insist on imposing his will over hers? This was Normandy in the eleventh century, and noblewomen were expected to obey the male head of the family.
‘Edouard, this appointment with the Abbot—you would not force me into a convent?’
‘Force you? Lord, no. But, Aude, we have discussed this many times. You have had over a year to mourn your Martin. It is time you got on with life.’
She removed her hand from his arm. In that perfect blue sky the swifts were screaming and Aude felt like screaming too. ‘I am getting on with life! I have been helping you! Heaven knows, you needed someone to run the household. Crèvecoeur was little better than a midden when I returned.’ Realising that an all-out argument would do her no favours, she moderated her tone and replaced her fingers on Edouard’s arm. ‘You said you appreciated my assistance.’
‘I did. I do.’ Edouard’s gaze rested for a moment on the dazzling white cliffs on the other side of the Seine. He sighed. ‘Naturally, I appreciate your hard work, but as I said, it is over a year since Martin’s death—’
‘Sometimes I think the shock of it will be always with me,’ she said, slowly. ‘One moment Martin was leaving the Great Hall all laughter and smiles, and the next he was brought back on a hurdle. A hurdle.’ Aude fixed her brother with her eyes; Edouard had heard this many times before, but she could not stop herself. ‘His horse threw him, how could that have killed him? Men are thrown by horses every day and they survive.’
‘Martin had internal injuries, Aude. There was nothing you could do to save him.’
‘I did my best, but I shall always wonder. Did I miss something?’
‘You missed nothing. Aude, it is not healthy to keep looking backwards. Martin would want you to have a future.’
‘Would he?’
Edouard smiled. ‘Indeed he would. And it is time you gave it some thought. I cannot keep you hidden away at Crèvecoeur for ever; you are no longer young.’
‘I am eighteen,’ Aude murmured. ‘That does not feel so old to me.’
‘You know what I mean, you are not a child. You are old to be…unsettled.’
‘You want to lock me away in a convent…’
‘At the least you should be wed.’ Edouard’s expression was hard. ‘Aude, we need to make an alliance, a good one. I beg you to remember that our family’s position is not secure.’
‘You are referring to Grandfather’s disgrace? But I thought…after Beaumont…’ Aude’s brows snapped together. ‘Surely Duke William cannot still be holding what happened in Grandfather’s time against us? You fought for him in England five years ago, and last year you.. .we both gave his favourite Richard of Beaumont our full support. Why, I even agreed to marry the man!’ Aude’s voice was in danger of breaking and for a moment her brother’s face was lost in a mist of tears. Blinking rapidly, she fought for control. This was not a good start and she had not even begun her confession.
Absently, Edouard patted her hand. ‘I know and I appreciate the sacrifices you were prepared to make.’
Aude cleared her throat. ‘I should hope so. Poor Martin had barely been laid to rest, but I knew my duty. I agreed to marry Richard de Beaumont, and so I would have done, if he had held me to it.’
‘For that I am grateful.’
‘Nevertheless, despite my reluctance, you will use me to forge another alliance.’
‘It would certainly help.’ For an instant Edouard’s eyes strayed to the barge behind her. The barge on which Aude had booked passage to Honfleur. Passage for herself, her maid and a small personal escort. Edouard’s lips tightened. That Viking sailor was probably still flexing those impossibly fine muscles. Aude could certainly hear him, throwing commands at the other sailors. She was not going to look at him.
A fleeting expression of anxiety crossed Edouard’s face. It was quickly masked to be sure for Edouard had never been one for worrying her, but she knew him. Something was bothering him. She did not think it concerned her. Edouard had been scowling at that sailor…the one she was not going to look at.
‘Something has happened, I can see something is wrong.’ Aude squeezed her brother’s arm. ‘Don’t tell me our family’s loyalty has been called into question?’
Edouard shifted his attention back to her and shook his head. ‘Not precisely.’ His voice was clear in the warming summer air. ‘Aude, I won’t beat about the bush. One of my friends has been denounced as a traitor.’
Her breath caught. ‘A friend? Who?’
‘Aude, hush, for pity’s sake!’
‘What did he do, this friend?’
‘So far as I can judge the accusations against him are completely false, but I can say no more. I am telling you this, Aude, because it is important for you to realise that over the coming months we shall have to be particularly careful with whom we are seen to associate.’
It felt for an instant as though the sun had gone in. But there it was, still gleaming on the trickle of water in the riverbed. It was low tide, but the Seine was especially low this morning—it had been a dry spring and an even drier summer.
‘Mind your back, fool!’ The voice of the distracting sailor—she was certain it was he—cut into her thoughts. Aude turned in time to watch that barechested form take up a small packing case and heft it on to a wide shoulder. He ran lightly down the gangplank and on to the jetty.
Aude’s jaw dropped. Her heart missed its beat. She could see his face properly and she knew him!
This was no sailor as she had assumed, but she had been right about his ancestry; Viking blood did indeed flow in this man’s veins. She was looking at Hugh Duclair, Count de Freyncourt. No wonder that naked torso had caught her attention. Hugh had always been so…so vibrant. Whenever Aude was with him she could see no one but him. It was a little unsettling to learn that Hugh had the power to fascinate even when being mistaken for a deck-hand.
She clutched Edouard’s arm. ‘It’s Hugh!’
Aude had not seen Hugh for over a year. A friend of her brother’s, she had met him several times when she had been a child. Notwithstanding the cloud that had hung over her family, Hugh had always been kind to her. True, he had enjoyed teasing her more than she found comfortable, but when he hadn’t been baiting her, she had liked him. Too much. Indeed, as a child, she had woven many a childish dream about him. But goodness, he had changed since those days. He was so tall, so large, and with that gilded brown hair shining in the sun…
Edouard’s lips tightened. ‘Aude, you are not to acknowledge him.’
