SOME DISTURBING NEWS
The sound of someone playing a harp drifted across the flagstones, a beautiful melody that lifted Rubina's spirits and mingled with the joy in her heart.
She was so happy. She found her mind was returning again and again to the conversation from the previous day, and all the things he'd said. One phrase in particular lingered in her mind. It seemed to convey that he felt as close to her as she already did to him.
“I am glad we had this time.”
She hadn't realized she had whispered it. She blushed hotly, looking to check that no one overheard her. Her embroidery lay on her lap, the stitching expanded on a good hand-breadth since she came outside. She was alone in the colonnade, the other ladies either on the terrace, where someone played a harp beautifully, or at the fountain.
I shouldn't feel as I do.
She hadn't mentioned the events of that evening to anyone – somehow within her she had this sense that she had committed some not-quite-proper act.
Well, she thought with a grin, dressing up and sneaking into the infirmary was probably the most improper thing a lady did! However, she knew her mother accepted her healing arts. She wouldn't have minded that part, she was quite sure.
No, it was the conversation with Camden that had a delicious impropriety. That and the way he'd taken her hand. She blushed, thinking of it. Yes, she'd held hands plenty of times, with all sorts of people. One couldn't very well dance with a person without holding their hand! However, it wasn't anything like that.
That was different.
She shivered, remembering the delicious chills that had broken out through her body as he took her hand. It was ridiculous! Why should something so simple – so ordinary, really – have such a powerful effect?
“Rubina?”
She jumped. “Yes, Mama?”
“You looked so peaceful. Sorry to startle you,” Lady Amabel said, lowering herself gracefully to sit on the bench beside her. There was a frown between her brows and she seemed like she was thinking hard.
“Is aught amiss?” Rubina asked softly.
Her mother shook her head. She looked slightly wistful, Rubina noticed. Impulsively, she took her hand.
“Mama?”
“My dear daughter,” her mother said softly. “You and your big heart. I'm not really sad,” she murmured. “Just, well...a bit worried. With all this talk of war. You see, your father talks of riding off. He's not young anymore and, well, it makes me realize I'm not young either. If aught should happen to us...” she shook her head, not wanting to say anything more.
Rubina frowned. “Mama! You're so young! You're two years past forty.”
Her mother smiled sadly. “It isn't young, dear. I do worry about leaving you all alone in the world.”
“Mama!” Rubina took her hand, feeling a sense of shock. “Don't even say it. Not for a moment. You'll live to be an old, old lady and see lots of grandchildren.”
Her mother chuckled. “I'll try, dearest. I want to. Believe me, I do. But if the worst happened, I do wish I knew you'd be safe. Provided for by a strong provider.”
Rubina sighed. “Mother, we do have a large family. I am sure one of your cousins would step in to help me.”
Her mother nodded. “You are right, of course, my wise daughter. But I do sometimes wish I could see you happily wed to someone who could provide for you. Someone worthy.”
Rubina nodded. Oddly, that statement made her feel a little sad. Though her mother had said that she would not mind whom Rubina chose, she knew that there would be at very least some disappointment were she to choose a mere knight.
Now I have found someone who makes me feel the way that, well, a man should. But I know he is not that provider you would wish for me.
“I trust that I will find someone one day,” Rubina said. “Now, have you seen those new sleeves that everyone's wearing? They are rather pretty. I think they would suit me – Marguerite said they compliment long fingers.”
Her mother smiled fondly. “These ones that overlap the hand a little? Yes. I'm sure they would suit you well.”
Rubina nodded, glad her mother had shifted to another topic, a happy one. She didn't want to dwell on war and gloom!
“For my new gown, I was thinking the ocher velvet?”
“Mm. That will be beautiful,” her mother agreed. “And if Mrs. McInroy starts sewing now, it will be ready for the ball in a fortnight's time.”
Rubina smiled, trying to engender some enthusiasm in her own heart. “I hope so,” she said softly.
Her mother chuckled. “You're so lovely, my dear. I am sure everyone will be staring.”
“Mother...” Rubina said reproachfully, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks. Her mother always made her feel shy.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
They both laughed. Rubina tried to look forward to the ball. Whenever she thought of it, all that came to her mind was how much fun it would be if she could show her new dress to Camden, could wear it to dance with him. She imagined how it would feel, his hand on hers, as they went through the tricky intricate steps of a roundelay together. By then, however, he would likely be gone from court.
“I think mayhap the gold braid would finish it perfectly. If you have a round neckline and we edge it in gold? It would bring out the fire in your hair.”
Rubina giggled as her mother stroked her sleek locks. “Mayhap, Mama.”
When they had finished planning her new ball gown, her mother stood, dusting off the skirts of her own blue velvet dress.
“I should go and find your father. He will wake soon.”
Rufus Invermore, duke of Buccleigh, had taken to sleeping for an hour after luncheon. Along with the threading of white strands through his hair, it made him at once more distinguished and touchingly vulnerable. The pathos of his wanting to ride to war struck Rubina afresh.
“Yes, Mama,” Rubina nodded. “Don't let him sleep through a meeting again.”
Her mother giggled. “Indeed.”
She kissed her mother's fragrant cheek and then, when she had gone, leaned back with a big sigh.
Around her, the courtyard was silent, drowsing in the late afternoon sunshine. A dove called, slow, sweet and melodious. The place was so peaceful. It was impossible to believe that they might hover on the brink of full-scale war. Yet, if even her mama believed it to be true, it must be so.
What of Father? What of Sir Camden?
The thought of either of them riding off to face down death was terrifying. Rubina found herself clasping her hands, whole body tense with worry. Sir Camden was already wounded! He couldn't ride off now, whatever his father bid him to do. He was her patient, and quite aside from her feelings for him, the thought of cruel, rough soldiering undoing all the good work of the infirmary was an added source of distress.
“And I won't have them letting him...oh.”
She stared. Someone had come into the deserted courtyard.
The man had dark hair and was deathly pale, and walked with a familiar gait. The paleness, she noticed as he approached, was not so much natural as due to the extremes of exertion and pain. He had his teeth clamped through his lip and he looked at her through eyes slitted with torment.
“Camden!” She was on her feet in an instant. “What are you doing out of bed? Get back to the infirmary this instant.”
He stared at her, and then gave a happy laugh. “My lady! I must confess that's the best greeting I ever had.”
She covered flaming cheeks with her hands. She couldn't quite believe herself. Had she really just scolded the poor man so soundly? “I didn't mean to be rude,” she began. She trailed off as he started to laugh again.
“You weren't rude. Not even a little. I really am delighted.”
She sighed. Sat down on the bench again, feeling a bit dazed. Why had she done that; betrayed her feelings so completely? Not that he probably hadn't guessed that the moment she visited the infirmary, or even before, when she helped with his treatment. She had been stupid. What other lady would betray a thing like that?
“Well, I suppose it's amusing,” she said tightly.
“Amusing?” he looked worried now. “Why would it be?”
She sighed. “Well, it's amusing to see a lady fuss about you.”
To her surprise, he looked hurt.
“I suppose I don't merit it, do I?” he said. His voice was so cold that she shivered.
“No! Camden, you know that isn't what I meant,” she protested. Why was he so hurt? She hadn't meant anything by what she said! All she meant was that she was worried.
He raised a brow, green eyes wintry. “Oh. I supposed you meant that a lady like yourself disgraces herself by fussing, as you said, over my sort.”
Rubina was horrified. “No! Sir Camden! How could you...” she trailed off when he interrupted her.
“Well, it makes sense, does it not? I am a mere knight. You're a high born woman, destined for great things. Why would you spend your time on me?”
Rubina sighed. “Good, Sir Knight. I spend my time as I choose to.”
He blinked with surprise. “You are unusual.”
“You know that,” she said with a wry smile. He laughed.
“I do. And I have benefited from it. The physician himself said my ribs would not have made the progress that they have without your care.”
“The abbot is too kind,” Rubina said tiredly. “I am sure you would have healed just as well without my aid.”
I was stupid to get involved. I should have just stayed distant. Mama is right. I should be thinking more seriously about my future.
He looked at her, astonished.
“Milady?”
“I should go now, sir,” she said. Whist! Why did it hurt so much to speak to him like this? Why did it feel worse than her own pain?
He didn't say anything, just looked at her with hurt, confused eyes.
She stood.
“Sir, I trust you will take care of yourself,” she managed to say. Her voice stuck in her throat and it was hard to get the words out beyond a whisper.
“My lady, I...”
“Goodbye,” she said. She turned away, hands tense at her sides. She made herself walk toward the great doors of the palace and not look back.
When she was inside, she walked swiftly through the hallways, eyes blurred with crying. She went up the stairs, along the hallway and then to the hallway where the guests were accommodated. She found her own bed and lay face down on it, sobbing.
“How can I?” she whispered into the pillow. “How can I turn away like that?”
She felt as if her own heart was bruised. Which was ridiculous, she told herself: she had hardly known the man! She had met him months ago, it was true. Since then they had spoken on so few occasions, it hardly seemed as if she could be so deeply wounded.
But I am! It's ridiculous, I know. However, it pains me cruelly to think I'll never see him more.
She sniffed, rolling over to look up at the ceiling. White with an arched pattern, it had that same vast, indifferent coldness that felt as if it had come to live in her chest. She sat up and reached for a handkerchief.
Well, I shouldn't be so sad. I should be pleased. I put an end to something that could only hurt me and him.
He was not the same rank. Not that she could care, but he seemed to. His pride would not have let him wed her – being outranked would have been hard. Her family would have hated it.
Silly, since Father is a knight – or was before he became baron – but I know they wish better for me.
Freedom or no freedom to choose, she could see in her mother's tight, worried gaze that she wished her daughter would choose a substantial landowner. Someone like their own family. Who would not seek to wed her for her inheritance but for herself.
“My lady?” a voice called. Rubina sat up quickly.
“Yes?” she called to the maidservant. “You can enter.” She rearranged her hair quickly, noticing how disheveled it looked in a mirror on the wall.
“You have a visitor.”
“Oh?” she frowned. Who could it be?
“Rubina?”
“Marguerite!” she smiled as her friend came in. She looked worried. “Is aught amiss?”
Her friend shook her head sadly. “I just...Oh, Rubina. It seems it will be war. And what of Sir Sean?”
Rubina stared at her in surprise. “Sean? Sir Camden's companion?”
She nodded wordlessly. “I...oh! Rubina! I don't want anything to happen to him.”
Rubina was surprised. She had no idea that the initial attraction between them had progressed so rapidly. Yet Marguerite seemed in very real distress. She put an arm round her shoulders, comforting her.
“There, there,” she said. “Mayhap this is rumors. All just rumors.”
All the same, as she held her friend close and let her cry, she had to admit that she didn't think it was just tales told round the fire. Edward of England meant to bring war here. It seemed quite likely he would do so as well.
Please let them be safe, she thought.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to let her own grief overwhelm her.
All the same, she thought as her friend cried and she held her, seeing Marguerite give such freedom to her own distress made her realize that perhaps she was not foolish. It was, after all, not impossible to care so intensely in so little time, and it was not foolish to feel pain at the thought of never again seeing the person for whom one cared so much. It was a comforting thought amidst all the concerns and fear.