Page 28 of The Favourite

“You can?”

He nodded and gave her a slow smile. “Until you, Jane, can tell me you are not afraid of me, and be remotely convincing about it.”

9

Despite the fact she was worn out, Jane slept poorly. If she had not been so conscious of the man lying in the dark beside her, she would certainly have been tossing and turning all night. With Viscount Bardulf so close at hand, she did not dare. What if he woke up and changed his mind about sparing her? He had said he would treat her as his mistress, had he not?

Then again, apparently, he did not actually sleep with them. Jane frowned over this in the dark. He would rather have his “lovely things” around him, than his kept women. She supposed that made sense when you thought about the gorgeous things he paraded about in at court. It would be difficult, indeed, to find a mortal woman as lovely as that precious jeweled belt he had fastened about her hips earlier that day.

She would have to hand that back to him in the morn. In the haste of packing, she had been forced to pack it with her own things. She was quite sure he had not meant to gift his jewels to her permanently. After all, the ring he had placed on her finger had been markedly plain and lacking in gemstones. She felt for it now under the covers and traced the image on the plain gold signet ring. A two-headed serpent.

‘Twas strange, now she came to think of it, for she had never seen him wear that particular emblem, though his tunics were always elaborately emblazoned with hawks and horses and other decoration. She had even seen his sleeves decorated with beaded pomegranates before now.

The ring, she thought, had the appearance of a family heirloom, but if the emblem of the Bardulfs was a two-headed serpent, then why had she not ever seen him wear such a device? It was a mystery. Like so many other things about the man.

She turned her head to try and make out his profile, but the darkness under the purple canopy obscured everything. What if he was looking back at her now, and she did not even know it? Jane’s breath caught in her throat. He was right; she was a little afraid of him, and it galled her that he was aware of that fact.

She wanted to be the sophisticated courtier around him as she had been back at the palace. There, she had not been scared of Viscount Bardulf. She had heartily disliked the man, but at least she had been unafraid. Then again, she had not known he had it in him to kill a man, and then complain he wanted a share of her blanket.

Of course, the man had been a bad man. Perhaps he was the one who had attacked poor Davis. She hoped Davis would not also die. It seemed most unpropitious to have two men die upon her wedding day. She sighed and started to roll onto her side, only to feel an arm reach around her and haul her firmly back against him.

Jane froze, but other than breathe out noisily against the back of her neck, he did nothing else, and after a moment she dared draw breath again. After all, she supposed it was no worse than what they had done in the carriage on the way there. She was still in disbelief about all that.

By some miracle, shortly after, she fell into a deep slumber and knew no more until morning when a knock at the door had her eyes springing open. “Make it stop!” groaned a voice behind her and Jane sat up with a gasp, dislodging his arm from about her waist. “Ugh,” he complained and rolled over, turning his back to her and the door and lifting the covers up over his head.

Hastily, Jane tugged at the neckline of her shift as a maid entered with a basin of steaming water and placed it on the side. Another had entered close on her heels and started piling logs into the fireplace. Jane cleared her throat. “It is water for us to wash,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him, or rather at the lump he made under the blankets.

He made a noise low in his throat which seemed indicative of displeasure. Guessing he was a late riser; Jane gave up on him. After asking the servants for news of Davis, who apparently had survived the night, and requesting her trunk was fetched up, she had her wash and set about freeing her hair from its braid.

Looking around, she found a fine carved ivory hair comb which must have been her sister’s. After she had retrieved her own, she would put it up for Celestia. No doubt, when she was older, the child would want some personal keepsakes of her mother’s.

Another knock on the door, far more discreet this time, proved to be Beth, who was as neat and meek-faced as always. “I thought you might need help to dress my lady, as you brought no personal maid with you,” she murmured, glancing curiously toward the bed.

“Thank you,” Jane said, rising from her seat, “however, my trunk has not yet appeared, and I would rather not wear my travel-stained clothes from yester’een.”

Beth perked up. “I shall have them sent up immediately, my lady,” she said hurrying from the room. Jane crossed to sit in the chair in front of the fire for a moment to warm herself, for there was a decided nip in the air.

“There’s something distinctly irritating about that girl,” Viscount Bardulf sighed, flinging an arm out of the covers.

“Stop being horrible,” Jane said virtuously. “She is a very obliging and neat young woman.”

“Maybe that’s what’s so annoying,” he mused aloud. “She reminds me a little of you, whenever you’re around Queen Armenal. Oh, so obliging and dutiful.” Jane flushed, but before she could make reply, he added thoughtfully, “She also seems to me, as though she’s putting on an act.”

“Perhaps that’s why she irritates me,” Jane retorted in a flash. “For in that, she reminds me of you!”

He smirked, but answered innocently, “Oh, so she annoys you too, Jane? Great minds seldom differ in thought.”

Jane bit her lip. She had not meant to admit to her irrational dislike of Mistress Beth. “What makes you think she is putting on an act?” she asked, unable to prevent herself from curiosity.

He propped himself up on his elbows and shrugged. “Just a feeling.” His hair was in disarray, flopping all over the place. He was also bare-chested, and was that an emerald dangling from one of his earlobes?

“We are probably doing her a great disservice,” she said aloud to distract herself from her disquieting observations.

“Now, don’t start mouthing platitudes at me this morning, Jane,” he begged, collapsing back onto the bed with disgust. “I cannot stand a proper woman in the bedchamber.”

Jane felt herself bristling up but managed to swallow the words that sprang to her lips. She had already displayed a shocking want of manners that morning by implying she found her newly wedded husband irritating. She was quite horrified with herself. The arrival of her trunk gave her an excuse to disappear into the adjoining room to dress, and in this, also, Beth proved herself to be extremely capable of aiding her.

“Shall I dress your hair, my lady?” she offered.