Page 26 of Her Noble Groom
He stood before the hearth, tending the fire, and gestured for her to sit.
She perched on the edge of the high-backed wooden chair, the same one she had sat on when he first offered her the position as Philippe’s governess.
More nervous now than that day, she tucked her hands beneath her to keep from fidgeting.
With her father gone, no husband, and a babe on the way, her future rested on his decision.
De Carteret settled into his chair and placed his arms on the desk. “I have no complaint about Philippe’s progress. However, given your situation, it would be unseemly to allow you to continue tutoring my son.”
Thomasse gripped the edge of the chair. “I understand.”
“I am prepared to retain your services under one condition.”
She leaned forward. “Which is?”
“You must wed.” He paused, giving her a moment to let his words sink in. “James has agreed to take you as his wife.”
Her heartbeat quickened at the prospect, but just as quickly, doubts crept in, and the cold hand of dread wrapped around her chest. James had loved her once, but had he agreed to marry her out of pity—or at the seigneur’s insistence?
She did not want him to take her out of duty.
But she did not wish to offend the seigneur.
“It is kind of James to make the sacrifice, but my father has promised me to another.”
“Forsooth?” De Carteret’s brows raised. “Might I inquire of whom you speak?”
She straightened. “The Earl of Devon. ”
The seigneur furrowed his brow. “He died two years past, leaving no heir.”
“His younger brother, Lord Jack, is destined to replace him.”
“If indeed you are betrothed, why has he not come for you?”
“It is complicated.” She shifted in the chair. “My father happened upon him in France, and he reaffirmed his intentions.”
“Ah!” De Carteret steepled his fingers and placed them on his chin. “Your father and the future earl are both in exile with Margaret d’Anjou.”
Her head jerked backward. “You know?”
“It is my business to know these things.”
Given the seigneur already knew her secret, she saw no reason to be anything but honest. “The wedding shall take place once King Henry returns to the throne.”
“I admire your confidence.” De Carteret rose and wandered over to the window and peered out for several minutes. “There is no way to put this delicately, but would Lord Jack honor the understanding if he discovered you bore a bastard child?”
Thomasse folded her arms over her belly, and a lump formed in her throat. “He need never know. I can place the child with a family to raise.” Even as she spoke the words, she felt uneasy. Secrets had a way of being exposed, and the consequences of such a deception could be dire.
“Children are a blessing. Should King Henry’s efforts prove unsuccessful, or your intended dies in battle, you will have relinquished your child for naught.”
“I see no other possibility.”
“I offered you a solution.”
“Yes, but—”
De Carteret faced her, his gaze steady. “You are free to decline, but if you do, I will have no choice but to dismiss you.”
She could only surmise her father’s fury should he return and discover her wed to James, the one man he forbade her to marry. But the seigneur was right. Her choices were limited. And his remark that she could keep the child was a thought she had scarcely dared entertain .
De Carteret came and stood beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It is unfortunate that society demands the appearance of virtue, when often that is all it is. I pray you understand. I seek what is best for you.”
“Must I give an answer forthwith? Or may I have time to consider?”
“Take a day or two. Just remember, time is not your friend. James is a good man. He will treat you kindly.”
Thomasse rose and made her way to the door.
“Before I go, might I inquire how the pirate escaped the dungeon? Why did he come to St. Ouen?”
“The Lady of Rozel pleaded for his release, and the captain granted her petition. Since his parole, Hareford has styled himself a rebel leader, intent on ousting the French. I fear two of my fellow seigneurs have been swayed and sent him to persuade me of the soundness of his cause. But I see him for the fraud that he is,” de Carteret said.
“It is most unfortunate that he arrived under cover of night. My men-at-arms did not know him. Should he come again, I have ordered them to arrest him.”
“Gramercy, seigneur.”
Thomasse softly shut the door behind her and trudged up the stairs to her chamber, each step weighted by the burden of the choices she must make.
T homasse traced the intricate carving on the back of her brush—the first gift from James when she arrived on the isle.
It all seemed so long ago now, when she had imagined James brushing her hair, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder, and whispering words of love.
But that dream had ended long ago. It was de Carteret who had asked James to marry her—he had not offered.
It hurt to think of James wedding her out of obligation.
She pulled at the cord that bound her braid, freeing her tresses to flow down her back, and ran the brush down the length of her hair.
She turned away from the mirror, unable to look at her reflection any longer.
The seigneur was right. No honorable man would marry her now that her virtue was gone.
The pirate had stolen more than her innocence.
She laid the brush back on the dressing table. The decision put before her could not be delayed.
Above all, she wanted to be safe, something she had known in her father’s house, and something she could count on if she married Jack. But the seigneur had pointed out the uncertainty of that future.
Did she expect too much? Perhaps there was no assurance against harm in this world.
She shivered at the thought of the French soldiers who prowled the parish at night. If she declined de Carteret’s solution, she would be turned out and become easy prey. If they used her as a hedge whore—she shuddered.
What had Agnes said so long ago? Something she had brushed off as foolish talk, about what a girl should want in a husband—“a man who listens, who is gentle and kind, he is the one worth cleaving to.” Now she understood better the wisdom in those words.
Although he was a man of humble birth, she had always been able to confide in James. He never dismissed her thoughts or feelings; with him she had always felt safe. He was steady, and their marriage would give her a chance for a future.
Her hand caressed her belly—a chance to be a mother to her child.
Maybe—just maybe—he would come to love her again.
Yes. She would marry James.