As the King showed them ceremonial halls with stone pillars and vaulted ceilings, a personal chapel, a walled garden and orchard, and even a private dock on the river so that he could sail directly to the Louvre fortress or one of his other residences farther away, Elaine’s head began to spin with all the opulence and luxury.
The palace was like a sumptuous sanctuary in the middle of the chaotic city. Everywhere she looked, she found polished marble, shining gold embellishments, rich tapestries, delicate stained glass, and soaring arched ceilings.
Elaine couldn’t have conjured such magnificence even in her wildest dreams. It made her dizzy with its lavishness. How far she’d come from humble Trellham Keep. Though the beauty and riches surrounding her took her breath away, she couldn’t ever imagine being truly comfortable living an ordinary life in the midst of such opulence.
Their tour concluded in one of the ceremonial great halls they’d seen earlier. Apparently, the hall was attached to the large square tower, which the King called a donjon, that Elaine had seen from the outside earlier.
“Thank you for indulging me,” the King said to Elaine. “I can see you are tired, but it gave me pleasure to see the city and palace through your eyes. But now I must play the part of host.” He called to a servant at the other end of the hall, who darted toward the spiral stairs which Elaine assumed led to the tower.
In a matter of moments, a flaxen-haired woman dressed in a rich midnight blue silk gown descended from the stairs and glided toward them. As the woman drew nearer, Elaine felt her eyes widen.
She was stunningly beautiful. She wore the sheerest imaginable veil affixed to the crown of her head, but its purpose seemed less for modesty and more to give a glimpse at her blonde tresses, which were piled atop her head in an elaborate system of plaits and curls. Her delicate features remained perfectly smooth even as her dark blue eyes took in the sight of them.
No doubt Elaine looked more than a little bedraggled. She’d weaved her hair into a simple braid for their travels. Her dress, while silk, was badly wrinkled and stained from so many days of riding, and her mud-caked boots appeared to be leaving tracks on the marble floors.
Still, the woman, who looked to be a few years older than Elaine, had refined enough manners not to stare. Instead, she dipped her head and lowered herself into a curtsy before all of them.
“Majesté,” she said.
“This is Lady Vivienne, one of my Queen’s ladies-in-waiting,” the King said with a tilt of his head toward the woman. “Lady Vivienne, these are my honored guests, come all the way from Scotland bearing a communication for the Pope. I wish for them to be made comfortable and happy during their stay at court.”
Lady Vivienne rose from her curtsy, her lips curving in a demure smile. “Of course, Majesté.”
“Kieran MacAdams,” the King said, gesturing toward the Highlander. Elaine glanced at him to find his features blank yet his gaze riveted on Lady Vivienne.
“Milady,” Kieran said gruffly, sketching the faintest bow without breaking his stare.
“Sir William de Soules.”
De Soules made a far more elaborate genuflection. “A pleasure, mademoiselle. We are most grateful for your hospitality.”
Elaine glanced at Lady Vivienne to see if she would be impressed by de Soules’s overdone deference. To her surprise, however, the woman’s smile vanished and her large blue eyes grew tight.
“Oui,” she said vaguely, a thin crease appearing between her perfectly arched brows.
Unease twisted in Elaine’s stomach. The lady-in-waiting was clearly accomplished in manners and etiquette. What had caused her to slip when she’d looked upon de Soules?
“And the lovebirds of our party, Jerome Munro and Lady Elaine Beaumore.”
Elaine attempted to hide her blush at the King’s introduction with a quick duck of her head, but when she lifted it again, she found Lady Vivienne’s gaze on her.
“It must have been trying to travel with so many men, Lady Elaine,” she said, her voice surprisingly kind. “I assure you that you will find your time here far more comfortable.”
“Thank you,” Elaine breathed gratefully.
“If you will allow me, I’ll show you to your chambers so that you can rest and refresh yourselves.” Without waiting, Lady Vivienne turned and began gliding toward the stairs at the back of the hall, her silk skirts rustling softly.
As the four of them fell in behind her, the King called, “Enjoy yourselves, mes amis. I will see you on the morrow, for I think I shall retire for the evening. My Queen will wish to welcome me home.” His chuckle echoed through the hall even as they mounted the stairs.
At the first landing, Lady Vivienne motioned to a closed door. “Sir William.” Elaine didn’t miss the tension of her voice. She shot a glance at Jerome, who was also frowning slightly as he watched de Soules bow and slip into the chamber.
They continued higher up the tower, halting at another landing.
“Monsieur MacAdams.”
“Just Kieran,” the Highlander replied, his frown a contrast to the way his gaze latched onto Lady Vivienne.
She tilted her head demurely, then turned away, not waiting for Kieran to see himself in or Elaine and Jerome to follow.
“I hope the King did not give you too hard a time,” she commented over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. “He wishes for everyone to be as in love as he is with the Queen.”
Jerome grunted softly. “We noticed.”
“He will want you to be comfortable here,” Lady Vivienne continued, politely ignoring Jerome’s comment. “I hope you find your chamber suitable.” She stopped before another door and pushed it open, then stepped aside so that Elaine and Jerome could move in.
Elaine’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the chamber. An enormous bed was pushed against the back wall, its posters elaborately carved and hung with heavy burgundy velvet drapes. Despite the bed’s size, it only took up a fraction of the space.
A matching oak armoire, dressing table, and chair were carved with the same delicate detail as the posters. There was another table opposite the armoire, this one with writing supplies laid out on it. Tapestries lined the walls, except for one section where a huge hearth was set into the stone, a fire laid and ready to be lit.
The chamber was undeniably luxurious—and clearly meant for a couple. Would Jerome insist on sleeping on the floor beside the bed? Would he turn his back as she changed out of her travel-worn clothes?
“I’ll have the servants bring you a bath and a tray of food,” Lady Vivienne said. “Once they’ve finished, you needn’t worry about being disturbed for the rest of the evening.”
Jerome abruptly moved to the door. “I think I’ll go make sure my saddlebags are brought up.”
Lady Vivienne drew back her chin in surprise. “The servants will ensure—”
“I’d rather see to it myself,” he cut in.
Elaine felt her face heat. After being forced in such close quarters for the last four days—and having to maintain the ruse of their love—no doubt he wished to escape. His thin excuse to fetch his saddlebags made it all too clear that he’d grown weary of playing along.
She cursed the burn of embarrassment rising in her throat and behind her eyes, but she reminded herself not to be foolish.
With a quick nod to Lady Vivienne, Jerome slipped out of the chamber. Lady Vivienne stood frozen for a moment before her courtly manners took over once more. As if Jerome’s abrupt departure had been perfectly normal, she moved to the door and called to a servant for food and a bath to be brought up.
Though Elaine assumed the woman had other tasks to see to—she was a lady-in-waiting, after all, not a servant or chamber maid herself—Lady Vivienne lingered, mayhap sensing Elaine’s embarrassment at the way Jerome had fled.
As a large wooden tub was rolled in and positioned in the center of the room, Lady Vivienne attempted conversation.
“I hope you will not consider me presumptuous, Lady Elaine, but I have a gown of green and gold that I think would complement your coloring nicely.”
Servants began filing in with buckets of steaming water, and another lit the fire in the hearth. A sudden surge of gratitude hit Elaine like a punch to the gut. She let herself indulge in the simple pleasure of chatting with Lady Vivienne about gowns, the latest fashions for hair, and the Queen’s preference for minimal headdresses.
She’d been so quick to flee Judith and Julia, with their incessant talk of ribbons and fabrics, and had been all too eager to abandon her life at Trellham for the adventure and excitement of the Bruce’s court.
Yet now that she was embroiled in a plot against the Bruce, visiting French court under false pretenses, and fighting with all her might against the tangle of emotions she felt for Jerome, she realized she’d too readily discounted all that she’d had before. Aye, it had been a quiet life, but one filled with family, friends, and a comfortable home.
She wasn’t sure how she’d ever go back now that she’d seen and done so much. All the same, she felt thankful for this brief respite from the madness of the last few days. And grateful to Lady Vivienne for her companionship. They continued to chat until the tub was full and several soaps, fragrant oils, and drying linens were set beside it. Someone had also placed a tray of food on the desk.
“Allow me to help you out of your gown,” Lady Vivienne said.
Elaine turned to let the woman work on her laces. Though Lady Vivienne clearly possessed polished court etiquette, she couldn’t quite suppress a sound of dismay as she peeled away Elaine’s much abused gown and chemise.
“I’ll just…see that these are taken care of,” she said, gathering both garments up.
Elaine scampered to the tub, too shy of her nakedness to feel embarrassed about the state of her travel-worn clothes. She eased into the hot water with a shiver of pleasure.
“Thank you, Lady Vivienne—for everything.”
Elaine sank deeper with a sigh. The bath was already heavenly, and she hadn’t even sampled the finely milled soaps and scented oils yet. She tipped her head back on the wooden rim, feeling the aches and tensions of the last sennight melt away.
But the sound of Lady Vivienne discreetly opening the chamber door to depart brought her back to reality. Nay, she couldn’t simply drift off and pretend that naught was going on.
“Lady Vivienne, wait,” Elaine blurted.
“What is it?” the lady-in-waiting said, stepping inside once more.
It was only a faint suspicion, but her instincts told her that there was something significant in the way Lady Vivienne had reacted to being introduced to de Soules.
Elaine drew a breath, taking a moment to choose her words. “You have been most accommodating, Lady Vivienne, and I’m sure you have other duties to attend to besides looking after me. It is just…I couldn’t help noticing that you seemed…surprised to see Sir William.”
Lady Vivienne closed the chamber door, her blue eyes falling to the floor. “Oui. But I know little of Scottish politics. I do not wish to cause unnecessary discord because of my ignorance.”
Cold trepidation shot through Elaine. She lifted her head from the tub’s rim and plastered a smile on her face that she hoped was disarming. “As you must have noticed, I’m English, not Scottish. I don’t concern myself overmuch with politics either, so I’m sure you could never offend me. I was simply…curious about your reaction.”
Lady Vivienne walked slowly to the dressing table and set down Elaine’s gown and chemise. Her gaze flicked to the door before cautiously returning to Elaine. “You are here on King Robert the Bruce’s business, are you not?”
“Aye,” Elaine replied, willing her voice to remain light even as foreboding knotted her stomach.
“It is just…” Lady Vivienne swallowed. “I have seen William de Soules before.”
“Oh?” Elaine’s heart hammered in her ears. “Here in Paris?”
“Non. I am from the Picardy region, and I occasionally return home to look in on my father.”
Elaine’s apprehension abruptly drained away. Of course. She had become so suspicious and tightly wound of late that she saw intrigue everywhere—even when it amounted to naught.
“Ah. Sir William owns land in Picardy, does he not?” she asked.
“Oui, but…” Lady Vivienne faltered again. “As I said, it is not my place.”
Confusion swirled through Elaine once more. It was widely known that de Soules held an estate in Picardy—the Bruce had selected him for his knowledge of France, after all—yet Lady Vivienne’s discomfort was palpable. What did she know? And why was she so afraid to say it?
It was time to drop her pretenses of casual interest. Elaine fixed the lady-in-waiting with a steady gaze. “Tell me.”
Lady Vivienne clasped her hands before her, hesitating for a long moment. “I know where Sir William’s lands are, but that is not where I saw him,” she said at last. “I…I saw him paying a visit to…to Château de Hélicourt.”
Elaine blinked. Curse her lack of knowledge of French estates! “Forgive me, but I do not know where that is.”
Lady Vivienne exhaled slowly. “Sir William’s lands lie to the east of Amiens. Château de Hélicourt is an estate in the west.”
Amiens. That was the town Jerome had used to test de Soules when he’d claimed to have sought a whore on the second night of their journey. De Soules hadn’t refuted Jerome’s assertion, despite the fact that he’d ridden in the opposite direction of Amiens—to the west.
“And…” Elaine had to swallow. “And who owns Château de Hélicourt?”
Lady Vivienne reluctantly met Elaine’s gaze. “It is owned by the Balliol family.”
Elaine sat up so fast that water sloshed over the rim of the tub. She saw Lady Vivienne’s lips part with a gasp, but she couldn’t hear the noise over the roaring of her own blood.
Balliol. The deposed King of Scotland who’d reigned before the Bruce. De Soules was visiting his estate.
Elaine’s mind flew in several directions at once as she tried to sift through all the implications of this news. She glanced up to find Lady Vivienne staring at her, her beautiful face a mask of worry.
“You were right to tell me,” Elaine said. “You did naught wrong.”
From the crease in her brow, Lady Vivienne was not convinced, but Elaine couldn’t worry about that now.
“I would ask that this stays between us,” she went on.
Lady Vivienne nodded reluctantly. “Oui. As I said, I do not wish to cause discord.”
Elaine snatched up one of the fragrant, creamy bars of soap. Her hopes for a long, luxurious bath were dashed, but she would settle for a rushed scrub knowing what she now did.
“May I ask one last favor of you?” she said, working the soap into a hurried lather.
“Oui, what is it?”
“Find Jerome and tell him to come to our chamber with all haste.”