Page 124 of The Favourite

It was all that bastard Vawdrey’s fault. If he had never been so imprudent as to bring him up in conversation, mayhap this quarrel would never have occurred. Not that it was a quarrel precisely. A quarrel would have been preferable to this.

“Oh, but I don’t know that we can blame him for that,” Margaret Pryor said fairly. “After all, very few men could get away with white hose.”

Alisander crossed his ankles as all eyes turned at once to take in the splendor of his legs. “Jane believes my thighs are my best feature,” he informed them blandly, though his eyes dwelt only on her reaction. It was disappointingly unruffled. “Though for myself, I do not think they rival my face.”

Soon after this, Alisander decided he would think of some excuse and make a hasty exit. After all, what was the use in staying when Jane was being tiresome and refusing to rise to his bait? He stayed out late and did not return until the early hours of the morning when he found her soundly sleeping. He was under no illusion she had tried to wait up for him.

Fleetingly, as he undressed, he recalled that night he had returned from her uncle’s town lodgings, and she had surprised him by coming out in search of him. She would not do that now. Eyeing the spill of pale hair on her pillow, he could not resist the impulse to reach out and stroke it. Alisander? Am I your first dove?

Such an indirect way of asking if he cared for her. It occurred to him suddenly, that he could have just said yes. She might even have been content with that. She might never have pushed him for anything deeper. If ever a woman might have settled for so little, it was Jane. She would take any excuse to shy away from emotional displays.

He supposed it came from her keeping them so firmly bottled up for so many years, that any attempt to prize the stopper, resulted in them overflowing to an alarming degree. Strong feelings left Jane shaken, when she so wanted to be calm and collected. Even something as trivial as holding a baby in her arms overwhelmed her. She would grit her teeth and her eyes would fill with tears.

It made something turn over in his chest to think of it. She must, he thought suddenly, have been really brave to ask him that ridiculous question. And it was not as though he could blame her entirely for what had happened. Had he not raised the topic himself, and not in good faith either?

I think you must have fallen in love with me. Why had he said that to her?

Extinguishing the candle, he climbed under the covers and considered this in the dark where it was always easier to breathe. He knew why. He had done it purely to disquiet her, and to frighten her off the subject in the future, he told himself firmly.

Knowing only too well how she shrank from such things, he had cruelly goaded her to see the fear that would spring into her eyes. And when he had seen it, he had been satisfied, for it had assured him that never again would she be so rash as to question his feeling for her.

He knew why full well why he had said that to her. He had known it would send her into a cold panic. And yet … that did not explain the flicker of something else in his breast when he had said the words out loud. It did not explain the rush he had felt when Jane had not denied it when instead she had reached for his hand.

Alisander gasped, opening his eyes wide. What a stupid bastard he was. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her at all. He had wanted to goad Jane into telling him she loved him. He wanted her to say it first. He wanted her to declare it, and then weep over him and give him her bleeding heart for his safekeeping.

He was astonished with himself. It was all very well being a deceitful bastard in his dealings with others, but deceiving himself was quite another thing. What depths of deception did a man’s soul have to possess for him to start successfully lying to himself?

He felt winded. Now that he had dragged the feelings out and examined them, he was not even sure how long he had been in love with her. He could not remember a time when his feelings had not been … rather involved when it came to Jane. Perhaps it went back as far as that first time he had seen her face light up with joy. That time the Queen had praised her, and Jane had glowed.

He had wanted her to glow like that for him. And instead—fuck—he had extinguished it. She had been so brave and sweet, and he had made a total mess of it, as he was making a mess of everything at the moment. Likely, his clumsy words had wounded her. Poor little Jane.

He sought her out under the blankets, dragging her into his arms. That was why she had withdrawn from him. Not to punish him, but to preserve herself from further hurt. Foolish Jane. Did she not know that he was there to guard her now?

Carefully, so as not to disturb her sleep, he curled about her, burying his nose in her hair. She had left it loose, and even in the dark, he could tell it was crinkled from being braided while it was wet. Had she left it loose for him? he wondered. Mayhap, he should wake her and find out.

Then again, what if she now meant to bring her politeness to the bedchamber? He could not stand it. Not after everything they had shared before. He closed his eyes and considered how best he should have answered that bloody question, instead of trying to push her gently away. Perhaps honestly? he mused. Would that have been worth an attempt?

Yes, Jane, you are the first woman I have simultaneously tormented and soothed. I don’t know why. I have never been prompted to act this way by another. I only know that I must be your tormentor, and you my chief delight. Please allow us to continue in this lovely state of affairs, until we both expire of old age and then we can be entombed together under the de Balon family crest.

Was that really too much to ask? He wasn’t sure if it was a reasonable request or not, truth be told. Knowing Jane, she would either gaze at him blankly or cry and hold him just that bit too tightly for comfort. Either reaction would be fine, in truth, and preferable to recoiling from him in horror.

The trouble of it was that this was not the only thing he had botched of late. He had made quite a hash of his other, non-husbandly duties also. Neglectful would be the most lenient description of his recent approach.

Lemarchier was still not happy with him, which meant neither was Wilhelm. Then too, there was Hubair, who always took a ridiculous amount of offense. It was possible that Alisander had fumbled his response to the Kloberg situation. Whenever he caught sight of their ambassador lately, Alphonse immediately went haring off in the opposite direction. That was not a good sign.

He sighed and tightened his arms about his sleeping wife. At least when she was asleep she was pliant and warm as ever in his arms. Breathing deeply against her neck, he consigned the rest of them to the devil and relaxed into sleep.

*

Alisander was mindful the next morning of Jane’s brittle politeness. He was gentle of manner in his dealings with her, and on receiving a note informing him the King’s rooms were to be thrown open that morning, he immediately told her as much. “We had better go forth and find out what’s afoot.”

She acquiesced readily enough, and once they were both fully arrayed in their mourning attire, they duly made their way in that direction, joining the drifting white clouds of courtiers all moving toward the King’s Presence Chamber.

Any hopes they all might have harbored that the King might be in better spirits were soon dispelled. He started off fairly well, looking subdued but bearing up. Then some fool decided to curry favor by singing the late Bathilde’s praises.

Alisander fancied that the entire room tensed as Wymer’s lips started trembling beneath his golden whiskers and his blue eyes started to swim. The Queen attempted a valiant rescue, responding in hearty, buoyant tones, but the King was too far gone for that. He reached out a shaky hand to clasp his wife’s arm as tears rolled down his cheeks. “She was the best of women!” he sobbed. “Never again will the world see her like!”

“Indeed, she was,” Armenal agreed soothingly. “Those of us who knew her could only admire her noble qualities.” She paused, then lifted her voice. “Why, she raised a King!” she announced rousingly. Picking up on the cue, the courtiers shouted and cheered. “The Lion of all Karadok!” the Queen proclaimed in a ringing voice.