The Scandalous Duchess. Anne O'Brien
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There was no hesitation: ‘Yes, I can, if you are that woman. Since I have made my desire for you more than plain, how can you ask it? I am the man who will cherish you, with or without the Church’s blessing, and I will stand protection for you against the accusatory world.’
A fine promise that touched my emotions. So he might be that man, but was I the woman to give myself over to that sin? Could I live a life founded on lust, on unholy, unsanctified, physical desire, which would call ignominy down on my head? It would take a strong will to face family and friends as the acknowledged mistress of the Duke of Lancaster and accept their judgement.
‘Do you deny my power to accomplish it?’ the Duke demanded. ‘I will make you my mistress, and as the woman who is chosen by a prince of the Plantagenet line, you will be answerable to no man.’
But I would be answerable to my own conscience and to God. All I could do was retreat to a dilemma that he must understand.
‘I cannot. I am too far below you, my lord, a mere daughter of a royal official, a widow of a minor knight. But nor am I a court whore, willing to please any man in exchange for nightly gratification and a handful of jewels, as he sees fit. I know what is due to me, just as I know my place in the ordering of worldly affairs, and that place is not in your bed. I cannot accept your invitation simply because…because…’
‘Because I have an itch that is in need of scratching. Is that what you wished to say?’
‘Yes.’
My cheeks were on fire from the deliberate crudity, but the Duke laughed.
‘Your scruples, madam, are magnificent.’
‘I know that you value my service,’ I tried to explain despite the sharp irony, for was he not still smiling at me? ‘I know that you have a kindness for me and my children. I will serve the house of Lancaster in heartfelt gratitude for all you have done for us. But how do you desire me? You loved Blanche to the depths of your soul. Your love for her shone as a bright halo around you, around the pair of you. I know the pain of your grief when she died.’ I held his whole attention now. ‘You have a new and beautiful high-born wife who is carrying your child. She brings you a kingdom, a valuable alliance. She is young and vulnerable and would appeal to your chivalry. Would you not love her too? I know you have a care for her—you treat her as if she is made of fine glass. Why would you not adore her?’
Why did I have a need to say all this? It was fruitless, painting a picture that was far more familiar to him than it was to me. But still I would speak out. I took a breath, flattening my hands, still warmly enwrapped, against his chest.
‘I will not be the mistress of any man who simply wants me for a casual hour of dalliance and a fast satisfaction between the bedsheets,’ I declared, as outspoken as he.
‘And a handful of jewels. So you said.’ The Duke tilted his chin as his eyes gleamed with something like appreciation. I thought I had surprised him after all. ‘That was quite a speech. I knew there was a reason I appointed you as the Duchess’s damsel. I am mightily impressed. Have you finished dissecting my morals and my character?’ he asked. ‘In my own defence then, I worshipped Blanche. Her death near broke my heart. But she is dead three years now, and a flame does not remain alight for ever.’
I thought about this, accepted it. ‘Yet now there is Constanza, my lord.’ The Queen of Castile stood between us, as formidably as if she had stepped into the room.
‘Do you think I dishonour her?’ he asked, his brows angling. ‘Constanza does not love me, nor I her, if that concerns you. It is a political marriage, to our mutual benefit, and one that could bring me great power. I am a man with ambitions that I will not see fulfilled as my father’s third-born son, and so I value Constanza for what she can bring me. I will never show her less than respect. I will do nothing to harm her or cause her distress. I will never hold her up to ridicule or slights in public, but will treat her with every courtesy.’
‘I think you might be hypocritical if you invite me to be your mistress within a six-month of your bridal vows, my lord. And no, I was not dissecting your character,’ I continued, my words carrying an unmistakable burden of acidity. ‘I’ll not be any man’s mistress, to be enjoyed for a few passing weeks of pleasure when the desire runs strong, only to be cast aside when the appetite palls.’
The Duke grinned. ‘I see that you don’t think much of my staying power. I think the pleasure we would find together would be of longer duration than that. Do you think I’d cast you adrift after only a few weeks?’
‘I don’t know.’ And to my dismay I felt the sting of tears. I swallowed hard. ‘I think you do not understand my dilemma. I have a conscience,’ I repeated, feeling that I was fighting a losing battle against his obstinacy.
‘And you think I do not, it seems. What a very low opinion you have of me.’ He shook his head in mock reproof. ‘You have given me a hard task, have you not? I must find a way to prove it to you that an hour or two of dalliance would be most enjoyable.’
‘I defy you to try, my lord. I’ll not be persuaded.’
The Duke stood, pulling me with him, drawing me into his arms when I tried to step back. So we stood, unmoving, breast to breast, thigh to thigh. I thought for a moment, in which I stopped breathing, that it was in his mind to kiss me. Then footsteps sounded in the distance, approaching briskly, and he raised his head.
‘I vow I will do it. Stay in the chapel after Compline.’
‘I’ll not change my mind.’
‘I command you, Katherine. And it will give you time to think. I can feel your body shivering with the beat of your heart. I swear you feel this strange appeal between us just as strongly as I, and it’s in my mind to make you abandon your so carefully constructed arguments and admit it.’
He addressed me with such a note of intractability, forcing me to acknowledge just how ruthless John of Lancaster could be. It chilled me to the bone, if it had not been for the little leap of fire in my heart. He unwrapped his cloak from around my hands, releasing me at last.
‘At least I’ve made your hands warm. Now it is my holy grail to make you smile again. And I will do it.’
He said no more for the footsteps materialised into the form of the absent Robert, but I felt the weight of the Duke’s obstinacy, as he ordered the servant to collect up an abandoned lute and drum, pushed books into my hands, tucking others under his arm. I followed him to his rooms where, surrounded by childish voices and blessed warmth, some form of normality returned.
As he opened the door for me he stood for a moment, holding me back.
‘I’ll woo you and win you, lady. I’ll give battle to your conscience and defeat it. I give you fair warning.’
‘I will not be won over.’
‘Do you say?’ His lips were against my ear as he whispered: ‘I’ll have you yet.’
In a spirit of defiance I knelt for Compline with the household. I would be honest and firm. I would restore myself to God’s good grace. I would not be swayed by either specious argument or base desire.
I would refuse the Duke of Lancaster.
As the priest made the sign of the benediction and the service ended, the chapel emptied, but, because I had been so commanded, I remained on my knees, with a brief smile for Lady Alice who presumed that I had a final personal petition to make. Immediately I heard the door close behind me, and there was the Duke moving softly to stand at my side.
Not daring to look at him in all his magnificent smooth elegance, his tunic and jewels gleaming, I fixed my eye on the figure of the suffering Christ on the altar’s gold crucifix. This should be a very brief confrontation.
‘My answer is still no, my lord.’ I could not make it plainer.
Which the Duke ignored.
‘You have returned to your doleful black,’ he remarked,