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His body smelled sour. Sir Olivier might be wearing a pretty tunic but it was better suited to winter than summer and it needed rather more than an airing.
He lifted his head and Aude no longer felt suffocated. The sense of irritation faded. He smiled; it was a very charming smile, his best feature. Boyish and vulnerable, his smile told her, for all that he was a knight, this man was malleable. He would never bend her to his will.
In that instant Aude recognised that if she and Sir Olivier were to make a match of it, he would defer to her. Thoughtfully, she looked at him. She might not warm to him, she might never yearn for him, but it seemed he was a rarity among the knightly class. He would not forget that the lands that came with the marriage belonged to her.
‘Oh, your veil! I am sorry, my lady, I wouldn’t have had that happen for the world, except…’
‘Yes?’ Aude felt as though she were not really here in the orchard, she was watching Sir Olivier from many miles away. This Abbot’s knight, this landless knight wanted her dowry. Her hair had come loose, a strand was gleaming in a patch of dappled sunlight; when he reached to caress it and sighed, laughter formed inside her.
‘Your hair, it is so beautiful, I had no idea,’ he murmured. ‘You are a goddess, a golden goddess of beauty.’
Yes, a giggle was definitely rising, Aude sank her teeth into her lips to keep it in. Sir Olivier had a fine opinion of himself, but she could not take him seriously. And as for his touch, his kiss…
What would Hugh’s kiss be like?
Unhooking her hair from his fingers, Aude turned away and set about straightening her veil. Stop thinking about Hugh! Give this knight your full attention. If he is indeed malleable, he might be useful.
When Aude had set her appearance to rights, Sir Olivier was leaning against the tree, biting into an apple.
‘My lady, it is your brother’s wish that we marry.’
‘Yes, I know, but—’
Sir Olivier tossed the apple aside and reached her in two strides. ‘It is my wish also.’
‘Sir, my dowry is not large, but nevertheless I think you are more interested in my lands than my person.’
‘Not so!’ He took her hands, kissing each in turn. ‘I admit that was the case before I met you, but now that I have met you…’
Aude pulled free. ‘You are very glib, sir. You know I have a manor near Crèvecoeur?’
‘Yes.’
‘And my grandfather left a chest of money with the Abbot here. That is my dowry.’
‘I know about that, but—’
‘I also,’ Aude swept on, ‘have been gifted a small estate in Wessex. Did you know of that?’
Sir Olivier’s handsome face crinkled into a frown. ‘Where the devil is Wessex?’
‘It is in England, sir.’
‘Your brother gave you this estate?’
‘No, my fiancé gave it to me.’
‘Count Martin? I was not aware he had lands in England.’
‘No, Sir Olivier, it is Count Richard I am referring to.’
The Abbot’s knight tipped his head to one side. ‘The man who stepped into Martin’s shoes? I never realised you were promised to him too.’
‘Only briefly. We soon agreed that we should not suit, and as a parting gift Count Richard granted me this estate in England.’
Sir Olivier looked puzzled. ‘Well, that is all to the good, my lady, but I meant it when I said I wished to marry you and not your lands.’
‘I am telling you this,’ Aude softened her voice, ‘because I want you to understand my intentions. I am currently on my way to Wessex.’
His eyes widened. ‘I see.’
‘I hope that you do. I wish to tour my estate there and ensure that it is in good order. And whatever my brother may say, I am not going to make any decisions regarding my future until my return.’
‘And when might that be?’
Aude shrugged. ‘That will largely depend on what I find in England.’ She gave him a straight look. ‘My brother thinks to sway me, Sir Olivier, but—’
‘You cannot be swayed.’ He grinned.
Not by you, Aude thought, which, oddly, was the very reason she might consider marrying him in the future. If she had to…‘No, sir. I shall tour my estate; there are matters there that need my attention. With luck I will be back at Crèvecoeur by Advent.’
‘You will risk a winter crossing? Is that wise?’
Aude made an impatient movement. ‘I will not travel if the weather is inclement. What I am saying, Sir Olivier, is—’
‘No. You are saying no. You will not have me.’
Aude was startled to see disappointment written so clearly on the handsome face. And she would swear it was more than the loss of her dowry; this man appeared to genuinely want her for his wife. Malleable indeed.
‘Yes, Sir Olivier,’ she spoke gently but firmly. ‘I am afraid that I am.’
His nostrils flared and she found herself at the receiving end of another of those charming smiles. ‘When do you leave?’ he asked, politely offering her his arm.
As they started walking back to the church, tension seeped out of her, and Aude realised she had been braced for a churlish reaction. Her heart warmed to him. There were not many knights who would accept her decision so well. Charmer he might be, but Sir Olivier was genuinely likeable, which was all to the good. Particularly since Edouard would be more agreeable about her visiting England if she went in the company of the knight he had chosen for her husband…
‘I had planned to take a barge to Honfleur this afternoon, but another passenger took my place and had my baggage thrown off the ship.’
He missed a step. ‘Surely not?’
‘Really.’ They resumed their slow progress towards St Peter’s church where Edouard was waiting for them.
‘What will you do, my lady?’
‘Find another ship.’
‘Does Lord Edouard know what you have in mind?’
‘Yes, but I fear he may try to delay my departure.’ Aude gave him a straight look. ‘I should like to trust you, sir. May I?’
Brown eyes looked earnestly into hers. ‘It would be my honour to assist you, my lady.’
‘There is no need to feel compelled.’
‘Lady Aude, it will be no trouble.’ His smile broadened. ‘I want to help. You see, I hope to prove myself worthy of you.’
Firmly, Aude shook her head. ‘My mind is made up, Sir Olivier. I will not marry you.’ Unless I have to…
‘You will forgive a man for hoping.’
The brown eyes held hers steadily, and after a moment Aude nodded. ‘I will not change my mind, but I will accept your help. I am told that another river barge is due to set out tomorrow. In order to avoid an argument with Edouard—he wishes me to delay, and I am for leaving as soon as possible—I shall be needing new travelling chests.’
She was sent another of those charming smiles. ‘My lady, I know the very place where they might be found.’
Chapter Three
Owing to the need for discretion, Hugh Duclair had three horses stabled at one of the quieter inns a little downstream from Jumièges. The inn was small and in need of repair, daylight was visible through the stable roof. It was not a place in which he would choose to stable horses in winter, but since it was summer and a hot one at that, he had known the animals would be snug enough.
Having paid their accounting with the innkeeper, Hugh and his squire, Gil, were riding back along the riverbank towards the port. The river was almost at the full, and swifts screeched across the sky, fast as arrows.
Hugh was thinking about Aude de Crèvecoeur. Great God, it had knocked him back seeing her this morning. Edouard, Hugh had been half-expecting to see, but his sister…No, seeing Aude had been a surprise.
Each time Hugh saw Aude it seemed that she was becoming more and more beautiful. Little Brat, he had called her, years ago, and the name had stuck, much to her irritation. There had been no trace of the Brat today. At first Hugh had thought Aude was ignoring him, as well she ought given his present circumstances—it would not serve her well to recognise him. But what had startled him most wasn’t the way his heart had lifted at sight of her—he had always been fond of little Aude—it was the way his gut had twisted when she had not immediately acknowledged him.
The matter of his banishment had hardened him; Hugh had learned to inure himself to his friends rejecting him. Politics—he knew it was just a question of politics. But it would seem that Aude was an exception; he had thoroughly disliked it when she had not recognised him.
Might Aude come to believe that the accusations against him were true? That there was no smoke without fire? Hugh’s jaw clenched. He could only pray, could only trust that she would remember their past friendship.
He grimaced and glanced down ruefully at his horse, an unremarkable bay gelding. Aude might not recognise him if she saw him now. The previous time they had met, he had been riding into Crèvecoeur on Shadow, his warhorse. With a full escort.
Hugh forced his thoughts back to the present. His warhorse had been left at Freyncourt—Shadow was far too showy for a man not wishing to attract attention to himself. After midnight tonight, he should be out of the Duchy. Which was why he was wearing a worn grey tunic and was astride a gelding he hadn’t bothered to name, an animal that had more temper than manners. Gil was mounted on a small black, a brown mare on a leading rein trotted beside him. The mare belonged to Hugh’s thirteen-year-old sister Louise.
Louise was, if she had done as Hugh had ordered, waiting for them back at the barge. Hugh loved his little sister and enjoyed her company, but in the dark days ahead, he was going to have to part with her. He had no right to drag his sister all over Christendom while he fought to clear his name.
‘I hope Louise hasn’t taken it into her head to explore the market,’ he said. ‘We shall be casting off at high tide; the ship won’t wait for her. Besides, she really must learn that we have no coin to spare until we regain what the Bishop has stolen from us.’
‘No, my lord,’ Gil murmured. ‘I am sure Lady Louise understands.’
Hugh looked bleakly at his squire. ‘Are you?’
Anger burned deep within him. Anger at the calumnies spread against him, anger that the Bishop’s lies had been so readily believed. He and his sister were reduced to penury, because the Bishop of St Aubin wanted to keep the silver his father had deposited with him for safe-keeping. Family silver. Freyncourt silver.
Hugh might be a Count, but he was discovering it was not easy proving his innocence. He had, so the word went, supported Duke William’s enemies in the recent power struggle in Flanders. And the documents that would support the deposits his father had left with the Bishop had gone missing. At first Hugh had thought, naïvely, as it turned out, that it would be a simple matter of proving his innocence, of finding those documents. How wrong he had been.
His Holiness, the Bishop of St Aubin, vehemently denied the existence of the Freyncourt silver.
And the document that proved it?
Missing from his father’s strongbox.
‘I wish I had your confidence, Gil; we only have a few hours to quit the Duchy.’
‘I am sure she will be waiting at the barge, my lord.’
Hugh frowned. ‘Gil?’
‘My lord?’
‘You really must dispense with my title from now on. It will be important you use my Christian name in the days to come.’
‘Yes…Hugh.’
Against all the odds, Hugh felt a smile forming. ‘And for God’s sake, try to use it more naturally, you sound as though it might choke you.’
‘I am sorry…Hugh…but I think that it might. I will endeavour to try harder.’
‘See that you do. Today we hired ourselves out as ship’s porters to save a coin or two. But tomorrow? Who knows what part we will have to play tomorrow? If you cannot address me as an equal—and my sister, too, for that matter—I shall have to dismiss you until I am reinstated.’
Gil’s expression of horror was eloquent enough to make further words unnecessary. His squire would, Hugh was sure, get it right from now on.
They lapsed into silence. Hugh was lost in his plans when an alarm bell jerked him out of them.
Gil yelped and pointed downriver. ‘Holy Mother, what is that?’
A wave was rolling along the river. Couldn’t be, but it was.
A wave?
Hugh’s heart began to thud. He dug his heels into the gelding’s ribs. ‘La barre,’ he muttered.
The wave was rushing upstream towards the port. White crests foamed at both banks. In the centre, a wall of water reared up.
Behind him, Gil began to babble as he spurred his horse. ‘My l—Hugh! The boats! The jetties!’
‘More to the point—Louise!’
Hugh gave the gelding his head. They pounded up the track towards the quays.
In the port ahead, others had noticed the wave. People were crying out, pointing, dragging pack animals away from the water side, darting forwards to drag bales of wool clear of the water-line. The tocsin rang on, louder than before.
Louise! She should be on the barge. The blood thumped in Hugh’s ears as beneath him the gelding’s hoofs drummed the ground. The wall of water was closer, almost level with the port itself. Hugh had heard tales about tidal surges, had heard of the damage they caused, but until this moment he had thought them exaggeration. Now as he stared dry-mouthed at the approaching surge, he wasn’t so sure.
Louise! As the gelding thundered towards the port, part of him was praying that his sister had disobeyed him. She often did. But the cold lump in his belly was telling him that this time, Louise had done as she was told. ‘Stay in the boat,’ he had said. ‘Be good.’ Mon Dieu.
‘We’re too far away!’ The despair in Gil’s voice sounded like Louise’s death knell. ‘Impossible to get there!’
Hell! The surge was a mere five yards from their barge which, since it was moored at the end of the jetty, would be one of the first to be struck. Hugh focused on a slight figure in a brown gown and his blood turned to ice—Louise! There she was, she had heard the commotion, had run to the ship’s rail to stare.
‘Get out, Louise!’ Hugh yelled. ‘Get out!’ But it was hopeless, Louise could not hear him. It was too late, he could never reach her in time.
