Lindsay Townsend by Mistress Angel Read Free Book Online Page A

her? Why does she not tell me? Why are
those servants always with her?
    It did not matter to him that he and
Isabella scarcely knew each other or had only just met. It did not matter that
she was less charming. His sister, had she known, would have scolded that he
wasted his time, but Stephen sensed there was more to Isabella’s contradictory
behavior than a simple change of heart. He was determined to discover more, and
he was becoming increasingly determined to win her. He knew she was in trouble,
in pain, and he longed to help her— if she would let him .
    Stephen meanwhile was aware that he was filling
in time before their next meeting that evening. He had played hide-and-seek
with Joanna, mended a trestle leg for his sister, spent several hours at the
royal armories. Now he took a wherry to the Savoy, the palace of his lord Henry,
the Duke of Lancaster, to discuss a commission of armor for the duke.
    The king of France was staying at the Savoy
as an honored prisoner and hostage. Duke Henry wished the king’s stay to be as
pleasant as possible and, as he was admitted through the riverside gate to the
palace, Stephen was not surprised to see the whole place busy.
    The duke, it turned out, could not see him
that day. Returning by way of the rose garden back to the river, Stephen
reflected on the wishes of the powerful and lamented having to leave his
daughter Joanna for a wasted journey. Still, it was a bright, sunny day and had
his mood been less distracted he would have smiled at the brightly-garbed figures,
strolling along the graveled walks . I must bring Isabella and her son here,
with Joanna . And why have I not met Matthew? There is some mystery
there.
    “I will not do that.”
    His train of thought interrupted, Stephen
turned, seeing only a wall of huge rosebushes, not yet in flower. Whoever had
protested was behind that living screen.
    “No! I said no. I shall be no man’s
plaything.”
    The anger in the young woman’s voice had
Stephen pushing his way through the thorns.
    Through the other side of the great
rosebush he half-expected to see a maid struggling with a gallant but to his
utter shock he found Isabella instead. Her surly servants were remonstrating
with her, both at once, the maid hanging onto her arm to keep her between them.
    “You must, for ‘tis what Sir William
ordered,” the maid was saying, while the man added, “You know we must make
reports. If you do not do this we are all undone.”
    Stephen stepped closer. “Release my lady at
once,” he ordered. “Away with you!”
    The servants took one look at his face and
fled, hurrying off in the direction of the vegetable gardens. Stephen remained
where he was, rooted to the spot. Relief and anger warred in him. He unclenched
his fists and Isabella flinched.
    “You need not cringe from me,” he said
quietly. He had not meant to say more but somehow the accusation slipped out. “You
told me you were working.”
    Isabella did not blush. She said nothing,
but backed off and turned to follow her servants. She had lost still more
weight, he noted, and though her dress and shoes were neat, her hair was
spurting out of its net in a foaming cloud and her eyes were as mad as a berserker’s.
She looked wild, and dangerous.
    “Wait.” He strode after her, going past her
and barring her way. “Why are you here? You told me you were working.”
    “I lied.” She hurled the words while
staring beyond him, looking ready to claw her way through more than thorns. “I
lie, Stephen, do you not know that yet? But you must let me go. I must catch
Mary and John, else all is lost.”
    She darted to one side to lunge by him but
Stephen was faster. He caught her hand in his. “I know a short-cut. This way.”
    ****
    He was helping when she had expected him to
berate her or worse, to stop her altogether. Panting and with her heart and
feet pounding, Isabella followed Stephen, putting her faith in him even after
he had realized she had played him false.