Page 27 of The Favourite

“Feel free, my good sir. The King himself endorsed it.”

This last seemed to strike a blow. Sir Phillip opened and closed his mouth before saying feebly, “The King must be ill-informed indeed if—”

“I would caution you against voicing that opinion. King Wymer does not take kindly to such insinuations.”

“His daughter—”

“Ah, now there you are quite in the wrong,” Alisander said in a voice that brooked no argument. “For Celestia is not his daughter. Neither is she the Lady Helen’s, not anymore.” He lifted his voice to the rafters. “She is mine, and this lady here is her mother. Your King has made it so. Anyone who disputes that fact is, in fact, committing treason.”

Several simultaneous gasps went through the hall and the wind went out of Sir Phillip’s sails as his whole body seemed to sag. He stared in stupefaction, first at Alisander and then Jane. “The King—?” he said hoarsely and shook his head. “No. He would not. Not deny his own flesh and blood!”

Her husband merely looked amused at this assertion. “I assure you he has, and not for the first time. I have it in his own hand, here, if you would care to peruse the document.” He laid the rolled-up scroll on the table as Sir Phillip shook his head and slumped back into his seat. “However, that must be the last time you mention flesh and blood when it comes to my daughter if you prize your own neck. Now,” he finished, swinging around and glancing at the stunned servants who had gathered in the hall. “Who is preparing our bedchamber? My lady and I have traveled many hours and I find our welcome distinctly lacking. We seem to have so many servants and yet so few of them seem able to follow even the simplest of orders.”

Beth stepped forward from beside Jane’s chair. “My lord, I will have the maids change the bed forthwith.”

“Please do so,” he said, barely affording her a glance, and Jane was annoyed at herself for being glad of the fact. There was something about Beth she just could not warm to and she felt a little ashamed about it. The young woman curtseyed deeply and then backed out of the room.

“Perhaps she thinks me a duke,” Alisander pondered. “My dear,” he said turning to Jane, “you must explain the distinction of my rank to her on the morrow.”

Once Beth had capably taken charge of proceedings, things moved at a more efficient pace, and within the next half hour, they were led up the main staircase to the bedchamber that Jane remembered so well. She marveled that her uncle had moved so swiftly into the room where her sister had breathed her last. He must scarcely have waited for her burial, she reflected with distaste.

“This room does not please you?” Alisander asked, catching sight of her expression.

“It has certain unfortunate associations,” Jane admitted.

Enlightenment dawned on his face. “I see,” he said quietly. “But after all, likely many of the past masters and mistresses of Kinnerton have died within these walls. Death is an ever-present part of life, is it not?”

“It is. Sometimes prematurely.” He nodded in dismissal of the servant who set down the candles and quietly closed the door after himself. “Did you kill that man today?” she asked before she could stop herself.

He paused in the act of unlacing his cuffs. “Why do you ask?” He sounded merely curious, not remotely offended or cross.

Somehow, Jane thought it would have been better if he had been. She shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It’s just that—all day really—I have been having the oddest feeling as if I scarcely know you at all. Which is so strange …”

“Do I frighten you, Jane?” he asked with a directness that was almost shocking.

“No, you don’t,” she answered after a heartbeat, “but I am starting to wonder if you should.”

A smile touched his lips and was gone again just as quickly. “You, never. Others … perhaps.”

She held her breath a moment. “You would never hurt me?” she clarified. He shook his head. “Or Celestia?” His eyebrows rose, but he shook his head again. “Even if I enraged you somehow?”

“Enraged?” He seemed to consider. “I don’t know that I have ever been enraged by another person, precisely. I do not kill from rage, Jane, you need have no fears on that score. Now, shall we for bed? I am so fatigued that I shall not even object to sharing with you.” Jane gave an involuntary start. “It is not my habit to share a bed,” he explained solemnly, and Jane gazed at him. “You seem surprised.”

“Well, it is just that you said earlier that you would treat me as though I was one of your mistresses and so I thought you must be used to—to, well, sharing a bed,” she concluded, red-faced.

His puzzled expression cleared. “Oh, I see. Well, Jane, the truth is, I have never invited a woman into my own quarters, let alone to share them. I have so many lovely things I like to have about me: my shoes, my clothing, my jewels,” he said waving a hand. “I simply cannot spare the room. When I take up with a mistress, I will simply visit with themfor an hour or so. That is generally sufficient for my needs.”

Jane blinked. “I see.” She turned uncertainly toward the bedroom door. “Should I—?”

“No, no.” He waved a hand. “Do not trouble about it tonight. Besides, it is our wedding night, is it not? We can certainly share the covers for one night at least.”

Jane eyed him uncertainly. “If you say so.”

“Certainly, I do. My trunks will likely not even be brought up before tomorrow.” He returned to his shirt lacings. “It is possible I was a little precipitous earlier when I said I would treat you as a mistress,” he said with a shrug. “There are likely some distinctions between the roles of mistress and wife.” At a loss for how else to respond, Jane had to be content with nodding uncertainly. “Come,” he said. “Let us undress and wash and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Sleep?” Jane echoed hopefully.

“Sleep,” he repeated. “We are both tired, and besides, I can wait.”