Catherine Archer - The Bride Of Spring

Raine knew that she had to do something. The time for indecisiveness was past. Last night Benedict Ainsworth had revealed his plan to leave the court within the next two days, and he was her only hope.

Under no circumstances could she allow William to fall into her cousin’s hands while there was a possibility of doing something to prevent it. The question remained, just how far was she willing to go to meet her ends?

Aida, who had slumped down on the end of the bed as Raine began to tell her of her plan, shook her head in disbelief. “My lady, we cannot do this. What if you are found out?”

Raine stood her ground. “We will not be found out, at least not until it is all over and I am safely married. If we follow the plan I have devised, no one will have time even to question what is occurring.”

The terror in the maid’s green eyes would have been enough to give a less determined woman pause. Raine was not such a woman. “I told you what Denley attempted to do in this very chamber today. You saw what he did to my gown when I broke free of him. I can delay no longer. I must protect Will from Cousin Denley. Father would never forgive me for allowing that madman to gain control of his lands.”

“But, Lady Raine, I do not think…I do not understand how you could ever have the courage to…do what you mean to do. Nor how I can have a hand in this scheme. He is a nobleman.”

Raine rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You really have no need to do aught but get what we need from the castle kitchens, keep William from our chamber for the night and then to shriek as if you’d been cast into the fires of hell when you come into the room in the morning. It is really very simple on your part, Aida. I am the one who must get him here and manage all the rest of it.”

Aida continued to look anything but certain of what her mistress was proposing.

Raine felt her own certainty lag for a brief moment, but she braced herself firmly. The dread of what might happen if she fell into fear and indecision was too great. She knew all she could do was keep moving forward. From the moment this notion had popped into her head she had done just that.

She turned to the maid. “Aida, you will help me to dress and arrange my hair for this evening. I must look the very best that I possibly can, though judging from what has gone forth so far I do not know how much that might aid me with Benedict Ainsworth.” She tried not to hear the regret in her own voice. “Still, I must consider every possibility. Our success hinges on my getting the man to this chamber.”

She moved to the chest containing the new gowns she had made up in the hope that looking well would help her find a husband. Unfortunately, as she had already told Aida, after Benedict’s reactions to her last eve she was not sure that her appearance would make any difference whatsoever. What would be accomplished in fussing over such things would be in keeping the frightened maid occupied until she must go down to dine.

And herself as well. Raine did not want to think about what might happen if Benedict was not there. Nor did she want to think about what would happen if he was not willing to come to her chamber. She simply could not allow herself to dwell upon the impossible.

Several hours later, Raine paused at the chamber door and looked back at William, who sat upon the bed watching her. He had come in from the stables some time past, his gaze assessing as he saw that preparations were already underway for her to go down to dine. Yet he said nothing, though she was sure he could not have failed to note Aida’s anxiety. Raine realized that the maid was ofttimes agitated of late, and was grateful that he did not seem to put any particular meaning upon it now.

Raine did not want William to know what she was about. She wished to save him the burden of worrying about her, for she knew he would certainly do so if he knew. His guilt at her having shouldered the responsibility of caring for him had been apparent to her on more than one occasion.

In spite of his desire to spare her, there was nothing he could do. He was only a boy, albeit a good and loving one.

Her informing him that he and Aida would sleep in the hall with the servants this night had understandably brought comment. But Raine had told him only that she was required to share the room with another lady who had just arrived at court.

She hated to lie to her brother, but could not tell him the real reason she needed to be alone. Aside from wishing to protect him from any unpleasantness in this Raine also knew she could not summon the fortitude to convince one more soul of the soundness of her logic.

Or perhaps she was afraid that if she discussed the matter more, she would not have the courage to follow through with it. Perhaps she was afraid that her own fears would make her think of justification to stop now before it was too late. Hurriedly she left the room.

The hall was crowded, as it was every night. For a brief moment, as she stood in the entrance, Raine was again beset by fear that Benedict Ainsworth might not be there, that he might have gone home already. She well recalled his remarks to King Edward about his dislike of court life.

His sentiment, in that area, matched her own very well. She greatly missed the hills and dales of home, her duties about the keep, her own folk.

With a sensation of both dread and relief, she saw him, seated not far from where he had taken his meal the previous night. Drawing a deep breath, Raine moved among the crowded tables, not hesitating until she reached his side. There, not knowing what else to do, she simply waited for his attention.

She stood for only a brief moment before he looked up with an expression of surprise. “Good evening, Lady Raine.”

She nodded. “My lord.” Raine gestured about the room. “I would beg your indulgence. I see that the tables are quite full. Is there any possibility that room might be made for me here?”

Raine did not allow herself to even stop to consider her own audacity. For in truth there was no more room at this table than any other. She was quite aware that he, too, must know this. She simply had no time for subtlety and would not be sure how to go about displaying it if she did.

If Benedict Ainsworth was aware of her forwardness he gave no indication of it. He spoke to the man next to him. “I am certain that we can find room for one small woman, can we not, Lord Longly?”

The elderly nobleman bowed his white head politely. “Of course.” He waved a frail hand toward the space they had made on the bench.

Raine seated herself quickly as the men went back to their conversation. Neither appeared to take any further interest in her—a fact that did not bode well for her plans.

She had no real heart for the food that was piled on the platters, but she knew she must go through the motions of appearing to eat, at the very least. She was not happy to see how badly her hands were trembling as she took a small portion of the savory roast fowl and bread.

Far from being appealing, as it was meant to, the rich scent of the meat nearly made her choke as she took a bite. Raine was far too conscious of what she was attempting to do, too conscious of the sheer temerity of her actions.

She could feel the heat of Benedict Ainsworth’s body, hear the deep sound of his voice as he spoke to the man on his other side. Ainsworth had been kind to her, had defended her against Denley last eve when no other man present had so much as spoken a word. There was something very comforting about having him near her. All she had learned of him showed him to be a strong and honorable man.

Raine suddenly wondered if, in the event that she succeeded here, she would be doing this decent man a grave wrong.

Immediately she told herself that she had no choice. The qualities that caused her to hesitate over going forward were the very reasons she had chosen him. She had run out of time, and Benedict Ainsworth seemed to be exactly what she had been looking for—was in fact the only possibility.