Page 2 of Her Noble Groom
Her father waved his hand in dismissal. “You have your whole life to get to know him. With your dowry and his connections, you will be respected and live in comfort.”
“But you promised mother I could marry whom I pleased.”
“That is unfair. Your mother was dying,” her father replied. “I would have promised her anything to relieve her anguish.”
Thomasse clenched her teeth. “You cannot force me to marry him. Besides, my heart belongs to another.”
“Saith the maiden who giveth her heart on a whim.”
“My regard is steadfast.”
He took her hands in his. “How many men have engaged your affections this past year? And your current flame does not return your regard.”
Thomasse’s cheeks burned, and she could not meet her father’s eyes. “What do you know of my beloved’s sentiments?”
“Do you imagine I have not noticed how you pine after him? Truly, I pity you being enamored with your friend’s betrothed.”
Her breath caught. “Of whom do you speak?”
“Of Lady Eleanor and Sir Arthur. Surely you know of their betrothal.” Her father returned to his chair behind the desk. “That is why I thought a marriage to Lord Jack would please you. You and Lady Eleanor will be sisters.”
Thomasse dropped into the chair opposite. “So you thought to condemn me to a life of misery, forced to see him wed to my dearest friend?” She lifted a hand to her brow. “Such a cruel twist of fate. How am I to bear it?”
Her father shook his head. “It is time to lay aside your youthful fancies. You shall wed before Pentecost. Under Lord Jack’s protection, I know you will be safe.”
Thomasse refused to look at her father. Her whole life had been upended ere she could draw a breath, because two men agreed to something in their own interests without regard for her wishes. The idea was intolerable.
She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk. “What of your promise to take my friends and me on tour to the Continent? You would not go back on your word.”
He picked up the quill. “Circumstances change. They will soon forget.”
Thomasse sprang from the chair, unable to abide her father’s presence any longer, and hastened from the room,
“You owe Lord Jack an apology,” he called after her. “Sooner is better.”
Not ready to apologize or return to the festivities, she stole away to a darkened corner.
A tear slid down her cheek. Was she so daft that she had not noticed a growing regard between Eleanor and Arthur?
After what she witnessed this evening, she could not deny the attraction.
How humiliating! To think she had poured out her deepest secret to her best friend, yet Eleanor had never deigned to disclose the truth.
She dashed a hand across her cheek, wiping away the wetness. If only she could flee to her chamber, but as hostess, she must put on a brave face for their guests. She straightened her shoulders and glided into the great hall, a smile painted on her face.
Much as her mind and body resisted, she knew she must seek out Jack first. She found him at the sideboard, pouring himself a tankard of ale. “Lord Jack, allow me to apologize. The news was unexpected.”
Jack finished pouring the ale and took a long draught. “Accepted. I imagine my reaction might be similar given the circumstances.”
“You are most kind.”
Thomasse took her leave and rejoined her friends. With so many thoughts jangling inside her head, she scarcely heard a word Eleanor and Maud said. No wonder Eleanor had preened like a courtly maiden. She had known secrets she must withhold.
“Mistress Thomasse.” Maud’s voice invaded her thoughts. “You seem troubled. What did your father say?”
“Not here. Not now,” Thomasse hissed.
Eleanor grabbed her hand, and Maud followed as Eleanor led Thomasse to a quiet corner.
“Do not keep us waiting,” Eleanor said. “Lady Maud has already shared her good tidings. ”
Thomasse took a deep breath, not wanting to sound peevish, although she felt it. She glared at Eleanor. “Why did you not tell me?”
“What is she talking about?” Maud asked.
“I speak of her betrothal to Sir Arthur,” Thomasse replied.
Maud gasped. “Is it really true?”
Eleanor flushed. “I thought it wrong to share such news by letter. I wanted to tell you both in person, but I did not get the chance.” She turned to Thomasse. “I hope you are happy we shall be sisters.”
“Sisters?” Maud whispered loudly.
“Yes, my father just informed me of my own impending betrothal to Lady Eleanor’s brother,” Thomasse replied. “Someone who I have only met tonight and know nothing of his past.”
“I assure you, my brother is an honorable man,” Eleanor said excitedly. “Just think, we both are to be married soon.”
The trumpet blared, calling the guests to supper. Thomasse was grateful to be seated on the dais, even if it was beside her father, relieved to be separated from her friends. There was no need to make a pretense that nothing was amiss.
The guests flocked to the tables. Gluttony and drunkenness would rule the evening, for on the morrow, forty days of privation would begin.
When all were seated, menservants filed in, their arms laden with platters of roasted meats, cheeses, fruit, bread, and nuts.
Butlers poured wine into silver chalices for the esteemed guests while the common folks were given tankards of ale.
Although the cooks had prepared her favorite dishes, Thomasse had little appetite.
Unable to keep her mind engaged on the surrounding conversation, she tried to take pleasure in the night’s entertainment: jugglers, mummers, and minstrels playing their instruments, regaling the guests with songs, stories, and poetry.
Unfortunately, nothing could divert her thoughts from the revelations in the study.
As the guests dispersed, Thomasse pulled Maud aside. “Can you discover the secrets of Lord Jack’s past? I know Eleanor says he is honorable, but he is her brother.”
Maud placed a hand on her arm. “Anything for you, my friend. ”
When the last of the guests had departed, Thomasse hastened to her chamber, a haven where she could nurse her wounds. Here, no one would dismiss her despair as childish.
Agnes helped Thomasse remove her gown and don her shift. “Why so forlorn?”
Thomasse flopped onto the bed. “Does my very countenance betray me?”
“Indeed. ’Tis plain for all to see.” Agnes perched on the edge of the bed. “Come, unburden your cares.”
“Oh, Agnes,” Thomasse wailed, “Lady Eleanor is betrothed to Sir Arthur. How could my dearest friend wrong me thus?”
Agnes rubbed Thomasse’s back. “Perchance it was not her decision. Maidens of her station often have no choice in whom they marry.”
“There appeared to be more of an attachment than just an unexpected betrothal,” Thomasse said, her throat tight. “But that is not the worst. I shall soon be bound in matrimony to Lady Eleanor’s brother.”
“Would it be so bad? Does he not have the same qualities as Sir Arthur—handsome, a large estate, and in favor with the king?”
“Yes, but—” Thomasse shuddered. “I know nothing of his character. I am certain he cares for naught but my dowry.”
Agnes stroked her hair. “Surely, in time, he will come to care for you, and hopefully you him.”
The maidservant rose and lumbered about the room, hanging the green gown in the wardrobe, stoking the fire, and straightening the combs, baubles, and jars on the dressing table.
Her face was stoic, but Thomasse was not fooled.
Agnes had been with her since she was a little girl, and her busyness belied her distress.
“What is it?” Thomasse asked.
“I hope Master Nicholas and Lord Jack will allow me to remain in your service.”
Thomasse studied her maidservant, noticing the gray in her hair, her limp more pronounced, and her shoulders more stooped.
She had aged so gradually over the years, Thomasse had not noticed until now.
Indeed, Agnes’s movements had slowed and her eyesight was failing.
What a fearful prospect if she should need to seek a new position. “I will speak with my father.”
Agnes curtsied. “Thank you, mistress. Now get some rest, there is early mass in the morn.” She snuffed the candles and quit the room. The latch dropped into place, and footsteps shuffled down the hall.
Thomasse sat with her back against the bolster, and drew her knees to her chest as she contemplated Agnes’s words. She longed for someone to acknowledge her feelings as just, that she had a right to be angry with Eleanor. But, as usual, Agnes spoke wise words.
What kind of friend was she if her first thought was that Eleanor had betrayed her? Perhaps Eleanor was merely accepting her fate as best she could—although judging by the looks that passed between her and Arthur, that seemed doubtful.
The fire crackled as Thomasse stared into the flames, irritated that her father had not informed her about Jack.
Though she knew her father loved her, he rarely showed it any more.
After her mother’s death, he had grown distant, and after Richard, Duke of York, was killed in the battle at Wakefield, he had become increasingly distracted.
While she could appreciate the advantage to her father of aligning with an earl’s family, had he once considered her needs? Devon was so far from their home here in Sussex. Far from everything and everyone that was familiar.
She sighed. The evening, which had begun with such promise, had ended in uncertainty. Sleep would not come easily.