e wished, but he is far from simple. We know—don’t we, Gladys—since we’ve lived here for years?”
“Oh yes,” Gladys agreed. “She thought she could run the castle. I know her kind. But Lord Edmund would rather burn the place to the ground than give her free rein.”
Jocelin frowned. “Then why did he marry her? He could have had his choice of women. Lady Alice had no lands to offer.”
“She is beautiful,” Blanche answered shrugging. “He loves beautiful women.”
Jocelin smiled. “I am beginning to like this man. I agree with him most heartily.” He gave Blanche and Gladys lascivious looks which made their cheeks flush and their eyes lower.
“Jocelin,” Blanche continued, “he’s not like you.”
“No, he’s not,” Gladys said as she ran her hand along Jocelin’s thigh.
Blanche gave her a strong look of reprimand. “Lord Edmund likes only her beauty. He cares nothing for the woman herself.”
“Such as poor Constance,” Gladys added.
“Constance?” Jocelin asked. “I don’t know her.”
Blanche laughed. “Look at him, Gladys. He has two women with him now—yet he worries that he doesn’t know a third.”
“Or is it that he worries whenever there is any woman he doesn’t know?” Gladys asked.
Jocelin put his hand to his forehead in mock despair. “I am found out! I am undone!”
“That you are,” Blanche laughed as she began to kiss his neck. “Tell me, sweet, are you ever faithful to any woman?”
He began to nibble her ear. “I am faithful to all women…for a time.”
They arrived at the manor house, giggling.
“Where have you been?” Alice hissed at him as soon as he entered the great hall.
Blanche and Gladys hurried off to their duties in far parts of the house.
Jocelin was unperturbed. “You missed me, my lady?” he smiled, taking her hand and kissing it after making sure no one was about.
“No, I did not,” Alice said honestly. “Not as you mean. Were you out with those hussies this afternoon while I sat here alone?”
Jocelin was immediately concerned. “You have been lonely?”
“Oh, yes, I have been lonely!” Alice said as she sank into a cushioned window seat. She was as gently lovely as when he’d first seen her at the Montgomery wedding; but now she had a finer-drawn look to her, as if she’d lost weight, and her eyes moved nervously from one point to another. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I am lonely. I have no one here who is my friend.”
“How can that be? Surely your husband must love one as beautiful as you.”
“Love!” she laughed. “Edmund loves nobody. He keeps me as if I were a bird in a cage. I see no one, talk to no one.” She turned to look at a shadow in the room, her beautiful face twisted with hatred. “Except her!” she snarled.
Jocelin looked toward the shadow, unaware anyone was near them.
“Come out, you little slut,” Alice sneered. “Let him see you. Don’t hide away like some eater of carrion. Be proud of what you do.”
Jocelin strained his eyes until he saw a young woman step forward, her figure slight, her shoulders bowed forward, her head lowered.
“Look up, you whore!” Alice commanded.
Jocelin’s breath stopped when he looked into the young woman’s eyes. She was pretty—not of the beauty of Alice or the woman he’d seen as a bride, Judith Revedoune, but lovely nonetheless. It was her eyes that made him stare. They were violet pools filled with all the troubles of the world. He had never seen such agony and despair.
“He sets her on me like a dog,” Alice said, regaining Jocelin’s attention. “I cannot move without her following me. I tried to kill her once, but Edmund revived her. If I hurt her again, he threatened to lock me away for a month. I—” Just then Alice noticed her husband coming toward her.