The Scandalous Duchess by Anne O'Brien - Chapter Sampler

7/22/2019 The Scandalous Duchess by Anne O'Brien - Chapter Sampler

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reported unsold and destroyed by a retailer.Neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment

for this book.

First Published 2014First Australian Paperback Edition 2014ISBN 978 174356525 4

THE SCANDALOUS DUCHESS 2014 by Anne OBrienPhilippine Copyright 2014Australian Copyright 2014New Zealand Copyright 2014

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All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in anyform. This edition is published in arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A..

This is a work of ction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either theproduct of the authors imagination or are used ctitiously, and any resemblanceto actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales isentirely coincidental.

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Chapter One

January 1372: The Savoy Palace, London

It was like a proclamation of royal decree. A command complete withbanners, heralds and fanfare. Every muscle in my body tightened, my

breath whistled in my throat on a sharp inhalation, and I was no longer

smiling. I was not smiling at all.

His voice was impeccably courteous, but the words he uttered sliced

through all the bother that had occupied my mind for the past two months

with the precision of a rapier. I could not believe what he had just saidto me. This Plantagenet prince, so unconsciously dramatic on this win-

ters morning, had just carelessly shaken the ground on which I stood.

Yet was he carelessly unthinking? I looked at his face, to find his gaze

direct and deliberate, enough to cause an awareness to run along my

spine. No, he was not thoughtless at all. He had uttered exactly the no-

tion that had come into his mind.For my part, I had not foreseen any outcome of this nature. How

would I?

And no, it was not like a rapier thrust at all, which would be clean and

sharp and precise. This was more like a blast of hellfire. All my previous

worries, trivial and domestic as they were now presented to me, all my


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THE SCANDALOUS DUCHESS 15

into insignificance beside the inherent danger in those chosen words,cast at my feet like a handful of baleful gems.

Cast there by John Plantagenet, royal prince, Duke of Lancaster.My audience with the Duke, until this verbal cataclysm, had been

much as I expected, as I had hoped. He welcomed me with all his cus-tomary grace. Had we not been acquainted for many years, since I had

been raised from my days as a very youthful Katherine de Roet in thehousehold of Queen Philippa, his lady mother? Our paths had crossed;we had shared meals and festivities. I had been a member of the royal

household, held in high regard and affection, both as a child and as dam-sel to the Dukes wife, Duchess Blanche. I was assured that whatever theoutcome of my plea, the Duke would put me at my ease.

I rose from that first deeply formal curtsy when he had entered hisaudience chamber. Eyes downcast, breath shallow with nervesforhowever well regarded I might be, if he refused I did not know whereI would apply for succourI made my request. It was hard to ask for

charity, however gracious and generous the reputation of the benefactor.Lady Katherine.Yes, my lord. I am grateful.His soft boots, the edge, gold-embroidered and exquisitely dagged,

of his thigh-length robe, appropriate for some court function in heavilyfigured damask, came within the range of my vision, and I glanced up,momentarily alerted by a rough timbre in his speaking my name. Nor

was the Dukes expression any more encouraging. His straight browswere level, hinting at a frown, his lips tight-pressed, causing my heart toflutter against my ribs. He was going to refuse me after all. There wasno position for me here. By tomorrow I would be back on the road tothe fasts of Lincolnshire with nothing to show for my long journey. Hewould tell me kindly, but he would refuse me.

But then, as he caught some anxiety in my expression, he was smiling.

Dont look so anxious, Lady Katherine. You never used to. Did youthink I would turn you from my door?

The roughness was smoothed away as he touched my arm, a fleetingpressure. My hearts flutter became a thud.

Thank you, my lord, I murmured.I cannot express my sadness for your husbands death.


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There was nothing else for me to say that would not overwhelm mewith one difficult emotion or another. My husband was dead a mere twomonths, somewhere in the battlefields of Aquitaine.

I valued Sir Hughs services greatly. The Duke paused. And yourshave been inestimable. For you, Katherine, he lapsed into the more fa-miliar, abandoning the title that had come with my marriage, therewill always be a position here. And then, with gentleness: Your placein the Duchess Blanches household earned you great merit. You mustcome to us again.

Relief spread through me, sweet as honey. I sighed imperceptibly. Allthe fears that had pinioned my mind in recent weeks so that I could notthink, could not plan, could not envisage the future, fell away. I wouldno longer be dependent on the limited revenues from the Swynfordestates at Kettlethorpe and Coleby. I would have money to spend on criti-cal refurbishments. My children would lack for nothing.

Thank you, my lord, I said for the third time in as many minutes. I

seemed to have lost the capacity to form any other response, and for amoment I was touched with a pale amusement. I had not been known forlack of conversation. Forgive me, I said. I cannot tell you how muchthat will mean to me.

Is Kettlethorpe very bad? he asked. He knew my situation.You have no idea, my lord.

And with the relief I raised my eyes to his, to discover that he waswatching me closely, so that I felt the blood rise to heat my cheeks, and myrelief became overlaid with a layer of uncertainty. Perhaps he was wait-ing for a more effusive sign of my gratitude. After all, I had no claim onhim, no tie of duty or blood. Some would say he had done quite enoughfor me and my family.

Could it be that he thought me unfit for the position I sought? Damsels

in royal households were chosen for their elegance and beauty as muchas for their practical skills, women worthy in appearance and demean-our to serve the lady. I had done my best. My dark robes were as fineas I could make them, with no remnant of Lincolnshire mud. As for myhands and face, all that could be seen in the all-enveloping shrouding, Ihad applied the contents of my stillroom with fervour to remedy the ef-


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too harshly, knowing my circumstances. And yet his eye had the fiercefocus of a raptor.

To deflect the appraisal I launched into what I thought he wantedfrom me.

I cannot express my thanks enough, my lord. I feared for my chil-dren, living in hardship. I thought I should not come to you, because al-though I no longer have a claim on your generosity, Hugh was in yourservice, and you were good enough to stand godfather to my daughterBlanche. I knew that you would want Hughs son, Thomas, to do well

in the world, and before God, there is little to give him anything but themost slender of incomes from the Swynford estates. Thomas is still soyoung and I have not the experience to manage the land wellor themoney to do it, of course

My words dried. A minute ago I had been impossibly tongue-tied:now I was ridiculously garrulous. Had he not said that he would employme? My problems were at an end and I could be at peace, but my heart

continued to bound like a squirrel caught in a trap as the huntsman ap-proached with a predatory gleam in his eye.

I thought that there might be such a gleam in the royal Dukes eye,then chided myself. Most likely it was nothing but a shaft of light throughthe glazed windows, or simply amusement at my lapse into trivialities.

Forgive me, my lord, I found myself saying yet again.His reply was plain. You have asked pardon enough, my lady. You did

right to come to me. I will arrange that you take up a position as damselin my wifes household.

He hesitated, the pause drawing out to fill the room. There was nodoubt that he was frowning. Apprehension built again, a wad of sheepswool to dry my throat.

No, he said. The harshness of his tone unnerved me. That is notwhat I want And stretching out a hand towards me, he added: I had

forgotten how very beautiful you are. Your face has a grace, a translucentloveliness beyond my recall. And if you deigned to smile at me once ina while, it would illuminate every corner of the room.

Which robbed me of the ability either to smile or to make any coher-ent response at all. Not understanding why the Duke should flatter meso highlyor was it flattery?simply hearing the denial of what he had


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ANNE OBRIEN18

thought that he might actually expect me to place my hand in his, andreplied to the least shocking part of his speech.

Forgive me for being importunate, my lord. I forced my voice to re-main uninflected. I should leave. Until you have decided where I might

be of service. Perhaps at some point in the future. I am sure that withthe coming of drier weather in spring the problems of Kettlethorpe willnot seem so overwhelming.

I closed my lips, angry that I had been drawn into such a show ofweakness. I would not beg. I would not make more excuses. It not being

in my nature to ask again where I had been refused, I curtsied, a briskfarewell. I am grateful that you received me, my lord. I turned to walktowards the door, pondering at this strange outcome. The Duke did nothave the name for being a man who played fast and loose with the sen-sibilities of his dependents.

Dont leave, Katherine.It was not a request. Suddenly it was very personal, and I halted.

Dont go.I looked back over my shoulder but did not turn, my sole thought to de-

part from that room and the humiliating refusal he had just handed to me.But you said that you did not wish to arrange a position for me, my

lord.No, I dont.Then what do you want, my lord?

An inappropriately peremptory question perhaps, but by now I ad-mitted to profound irritation. His dark hair might lay feathered againstbrow and cheek, curling immaculately against his neck; his elegant fig-ure might express the epitome of earthly authority; he might be theproudest man I knew; yet he was still a man, prone to strange momentsof inconsistency. And, as if to prove me right, he spoke the words thatundermined every tenet I had been raised to honour.

I dont want you as governess to my children. I dont want you asdamsel for my wife. I want you. I want you for my own.

He did not attempt to moderate his voice to any degree, a voice usedto issuing commands on a battlefield, in the cut and thrust of Parliamentor in fiery debate with merchants over the extortionate level of taxes.The words reached me, with perfect clarity in their meaning.


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Now, slowly, every sense suspended in shock, I turned to face him,unable to lower my gaze from his.

I want you. He strode forward, and before I could thrust them be-hind my back he had clasped my hands in his. Do you understand whatI am saying? I want to kiss you, and I dont mean a formal salute to yourundoubtedly pretty fingertips. Which he instantly executed with neatprecision. I want to take you to my bed.

Those fingertips lay nerveless in his clasp, my lips parted, but no wordsissued. Every sense, every feeling, seemed to be frozen in shock. In out-

rage when he raised one hand as if he would touch my cheek. I stiffened,anticipating what must surely be a caress. Then he simply ran his fingersalong the edge of my veil, putting to rights its elegant fall. And I exhaledslowly, until he demanded:

I think you are not averse to me? He made of it a question.Katherine There was the exhalation, the familiar impatience thatI recognised so well, but his voice and face were as smooth as the silk

I had once worn, as I had hoped to wear again. Will you come to me?You are a widow, owing loyalty to no man. You are without a protec-tor. Will you give yourself into my keeping and allow me the honour ofbeing your lover?

Now I looked at him in sheer disbelief. John of Lancaster, the perfectknight, the most honourable and chivalrous of King Edward the Thirdssons, newly wed to Constanza of Castile a matter of months ago. And

I, at twenty-two years widowed and of good repute, raised by his royalmother to uphold all the precepts of piety and virtuous dignity. And hewas asking me if I would be his leman.

You stir my loins, Katherine de Swynford.Well, that pronouncement I could not mistake. The words slammed

into my understanding. Was the Duke exerting some droit de seigneur, de-manding my compliance? I did not wait the length of a breath to consider

and select a reply; there was only one word I could say.No. It was as flat a denial as I could summon.Is that a considered refusal?Yes. My answer is no.Why not?I flushed. His brows indicated that he was surprised. No, I repeated.


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ANNE OBRIEN20

had a chancy temper, I added, in case he had not taken my meaning: My

answer is without qualification. No, my lord, I will not. How could you

ask it of me? I tugged my hands from his, thinking that perhaps I shouldescape before the torrent was released.

It was too late.

The Plantagenet prince lifted his chin as if he could not envisage a

refusal, and then as I tensed against the verbal assault that would assur-

edly fall on my head, he gave a shout of laughter that reverberated from

the walls.

Which was inexplicable. Was he mocking me? I bridled.I see nothing to laugh at, I remarked coldly.

On which he stopped to draw in a breath, his eyes still gleaming with

whatever it was that had moved him to a show of mirth.

You have a way with words, Lady Katherine.

Because I said no?

Exactly. I could not possibly mistake your sentiments, could I? Heseized my hand again, and before I could stop him, saluted my fingers

with a perfect propriety, at the same time as he executed a courtly bow.

I will have to make do with that after all, he observed, running his

thumb across my fingertips.

And that is all I will offer you, my lord, I responded. That my hand

tingled was not to be considered.

The Duke laughed again, but briefly. Whatever humour he had dis-

covered in my predicament, or his own, had fled.

It seems that I have been too previous in my request. Now it is my

turn to ask pardon. Forgive my insensitivity. He paused, his expression

grave, the tendons of his jaw stark. And then a gleam appeared in his eye

as he added: But I should warn you, Lady Katherine. I will not be de-

nied. It is not in my nature to accept so determined a rebuttal.And as he strode from the audience chamber, as his footsteps faded,

as he crossed the antechamber beyond and took the stairs to the upper

floor, I was left to wonder if I had imagined the whole unnerving inci-

dent. But when I heard his final parting shot, delivered to me and echo-

ing from the well of the stairs, there could be no denying his meaning.


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cable episode. His final words, which had floated back to me as clearlyas if he had been standing in the room, had been quite as unambiguousas all the rest.

I sank down where he had left me, onto a stool that had been pushedwith its companion against one of the walls. Hands clasped together, sotightly that my knuckles showed white against my dark skirts, I stared atthe tapestry on the facing wall, a masterpiece in silk and wool.

Of all the tapestries in the superbly appointed Savoy palace, why did

it have to be this one, with its frivolous portrayal of courtly love, a ladyand her lover languishing in a field of blossoms beneath a f lowering tree,while silky rabbits frolicked at their feet. He held a hawk on his fist; herarms were entwined around his neck, her hair mingling with his as hereclined in her arms. His stitched eyes were admiring; her red lips werefull of longing. I imagined they were not wed, or in any way concernedabout the sinfulness of their relationship. They looked untrammelled by

any pious demands on their virtuous behaviour.I wager you would share your lovers bed without any holy water

sprinkled over you, I informed the red-haired wanton, crossly.I thought that she smirked as I imagined her reply. And would you

be prepared to languish in the arms of a lover, Katherine de Swynford?I most certainly would not. I was no Alice Perrers, infamous royal

mistress, who shared the Kings bed with bold impunity, careless of the

vilification. My behaviour must be beyond criticism. I must be able tokneel at my prie-dieu or before my priest with a clean heart. How couldthe Duke have so demeaned himself, and me, to offer me such an outra-geous position? I was no wanton.

I want to kiss you.

He had had the temerity to make such a request of me, clad as I wasin full widows weeds from chin to toe to indicate my deepest mourn-

ing. If my dark robes had not heralded my state to the whole world, theall-enclosing wimple and long veil should have been as obvious as a slapin the face to any man with ulterior motives. I was no loose harlot, will-ing to accept any position offered at court to secure my future comforts.

Flexing my fingers, I smoothed the black cloth over my knees. Hughhad been dead so short a time, struck down in the Dukes own service


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by leaping into his bedor that of any manat the first opportunity?I could not comprehend any action of mine in the past to give him theopinion that I would care so little for my reputation, or for Gods judge-ment on what would be a blatant act of adultery.

Adultery.

The harsh judgement shivered over me and as my outrage built, Ipondered all I knew of the Duke. A prince with a reputation for high-minded courtesy and chivalry, he had adored his first wife, Blanche, andwas plunged into desolation by her untimely death three years before. He

would never have strayed from her side. And now he had a new wife, amarriage of three months standing, and the prospect of a new child anda new kingdom to rule if he could enforce Constanzas claim to Castile inhis own right. A man of ambition, the Duke would do nothing to jeop-ardise the authority in that distant kingdom if he wore its crown. Hewould not take a mistress within three months of bedding a new wife.

It was all beyond sense. The Duke of Lancaster was not the mind-

lessly pretty, disreputable young man of the tapestry whose sole con-cern was dalliance.

And yet, at the same time I was forced to acknowledge that the puis-sant Duke of Lancaster, raised in royal indulgence from his cradle, wasthe possessor of a will as strong as cold steel. I will not be denied, he hadsaid. It is not in my nature to accept so determined a rebuttal.

It was an uncomfortable thought.

And my next proved to be an even more disconcerting companion.Was the fault mine? Had I, however inadvertently, however cleverly

cautious I had considered myself to be, encouraged the Duke to thinkthat I would welcome so impious a request? I could not imagine that I haddropped so careless a word, made so flirtatious a gesture, just as I wascertain that I had never led him to believe that I would step so far beyondseemly behaviour. Inappropriate desires and longings, even if I had them,

were to be held under restraint and confessed only before the priest.I cast my mind back over the three years since I had left the household

on Duchess Blanches death, when we had all been deluged in mourn-ing black, overwrought with grief. The only occasion on which I hadseen the Duke was two years ago at the interment of Queen Philippain Westminster Abbey, when he had pinned a mourning brooch to my


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So perhaps I had misconstrued the whole of the past hour, making mypresent tumbling concerns entirely irrelevant. But of course, I had notmisconstrued it. I would have been witless to put a wrong interpreta-tion on his parting shot

And I dont like you in widows weeds, he had informed me from a dis-tance. They dont become you. If I were your lover I would clothe you in silk andcloth of gold.

No, I was under no delusion about that: so intimate, so personal acomment on how I looked, what I wore and how he would remedy it.

What right had he, when custom demanded that I wear mourning fora year? Vanityassuredly a sinlit a little flame of anger, as I spreadout my skirts, disliking the weight of them in the voluminous amountof material, fretting that my wimple and veils leached colour from myskin. I knew I did not look my best, and was woman enough to regret it.

But how dare he remark on it?And why had he laughed at my refusal?

I was furiously unsettled, for my future was still dependent on theDuke. He had not yet made an answer to my request. Had he changedhis mind entirely in the face of my flat rejection?

With a swish of my hated widows weeds I turned my back on thecouple deliriously in love, wishing the smug lover buried under his blos-soms, and strode off to return to normality and the company of those Iknew, a household for whom I had a deep affection. A good bout of com-

mon sense and feminine gossip would do the trick. As for the lovers,the cunning rabbits would soon eat up the blossomsand then wherewould they be?

I made my way to the royal nurseries.Feeling an urge to knock on a door that I would once have walked

through without a second thought, I resisted. Opening it, I walked

through. How familiar the scene was: nurse and chambermaid, govern-ess and damsel and sempstress, all intent on the burden of care of thethree precious Lancaster children. Once as damsel to Duchess BlancheI had been one of this number, and would wish to be so again. There, attheir lessons, were three little girls, two of them with royal blood, allmuch grown since I last set eyes on them: the ducal daughters, Philippa


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psaltersalthough it had to be said that Philippa showed more concen-tration than her sister who cradled a tabby kitten on her lapwhileHenryhow he had grown!all of four years old now, stood at the sideof a lady who was engaged in explaining to him the illustrations in a book.And then there was the third little girl, whose age I knew precisely

For a moment I simply stood and watched the scene in all its busyness,my heart so overburdened with love that tears welled. It had been anemotional day, one way or another. I swallowed and took another step.

Good day, my lady.

I curtsied.The lady with the book looked up, expression arrested between ir-ritation and then gradual recognition. The book was slowly closed andplaced out of Henrys reach. The lady exhaled slowly.

Katherine, as I live and breatheWhich caused me to smile, it being a well-recognised expression on

Lady Alices lips, whilst Alyne, wife of Edward Gerberge, one of the

Dukes squires, surged across the room towards me. It brought all eyesto my face in a mix of pleasure and curiosity. Philippa smiled. Elizabethbarely remembered me, Henry certainly did not. As for the other child

My eyes on the little girls bright face, I curtsied again to Lady Alice.My lady, forgive my intrusion.

Nonsense!Lady Alice was on her feet, and then I was enclosed in female arms,

patted and fussed over, Alyne relieving me of my cloak and gloves, be-fore both found the words to commiserate.

I recall the day you were wed, Lady Alice said and sighed. Hughwas a good manand I expect a good husband to you. But for the wifeof a professional soldier, life can be very difficult.

And I found that, prompted by such solicitous expressions, I was weep-ing at last, for Hugh and for myself.

Forgive me, Lady Alice I could not seem to stop the tears fallingendlessly, all the tears I had been unable to shed.

Alice FitzAlan, Lady Wake, merely poured a cup of ale and, as Alynewiped away my tears, pushed me to sit in her own chair, handed me theale and dissuaded Henry, gently but deliberately, from climbing into mylap.


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who had come to stand at my knee, her hand now grasping my skirts.She was seven years old, almost eight now. I knew exactly, for this wasBlanche, my eldest daughter, honoured with the position of damsel to theDukes daughters. My lovely Blanche, named for the Duchess in whoseservice I had been when she was born.

Abandoning the cup of ale, I swept her up in my arms and kissed her.My daughter, I said, touching her face. My little Blanchenot so

little now. Have you forgotten me?For a moment she hesitated, as if reflecting on the matter in her sol-

emn way, then Blanche buried her face against my neck. My tears threat-ened to begin all over again.

She is a credit to you, Lady Alice remarked in her cool manner.One day she will marry well, Alyne added. She is very pretty, like

her mother.I took Blanches face between my hands, kissing her cheeks, tuck-

ing away her curls beneath her linen cap. It was true she looked like

me. Her hair was the same rich burnished gold as mine, the colour ofautumn wheat ripened under a hot sun, but her features still had the softunformed edges of childhood.

And can you read and write yet? I asked her.Yes, madam, she replied with quaint confidence. Then reached up

to whisper in my ear: Better than the Lady Elizabeth. She does not try.

She likes the kitten more.For a moment it surprised me, that Hughs death seemed not to havetouched her to any degree, but then she has seen so little of him in hershort life. She would barely recall him, and on this day of our happy re-union I would not burden her with his death.

Damsels should not tell tales about their mistresses, I whispered back.I know that! she replied, her clear voice ringing out. But it is true.

It is not a secret.I hid my smileIs that true, Elizabeth? I asked. That you do not work hard at your

lessons?Elizabeth considered me. Sometimes I do. I have learned to dance and

sing. There was a roguish twinkle in her eyewhen had she acquired


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ANNE OBRIEN26

arm and executing a succession of childishly uncoordinated steps acrossthe room to my side. But one day she would be elegant.

And you, Philippa? I asked.I always do my best, she assured me, smiling so that her face lit as

if with a candle within. She would be beautiful one day. You are rightwelcome, Lady Katherine. We have missed you here. If you returned tous, Elizabeth would mind her books again.

I laughed, all my tears and previous anger forgotten. I had come home.It was good to laugh again

Will you return to us? Alyne asked. Now that you are alone?I had hoped so, I replied uncertainly.Have you spoken with Lord John? Lady Alice asked.Yes. I could feel my cheeks heat, and attempted to hide it by kissing

Blanches still-escaping curls.The income from Kettlethorpe was never great, Lady Alice mused.No, and its no better now, I admitted with a sigh. And without

Hughs soldieringLord John will be generous. Lady Alice patted my hand as if I were

one of her charges.I was not so sure. I had refused what he had offered me, out of hand,

generous or no. And if my present companions knew what that offer hadbeen, they would not now be welcoming me back like a long-lost sister.Lady Alice, governess to the ducal children, was cousin to the Duke and

a lady of high principle, strong on morality, firm on good manners. I sus-pected that she would banish me from the room, if not from The Savoy.

It behoved me to keep my own council.


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