Page 79 of What A Rogue Wants
She tensed, expecting someone to demand she and Grey leave at once, but no one spared them notice. She tried to capture Grey’s attention, but his focus was riveted to the scene before him.
The king advanced once again on the servant. “You cannot keep me here.”
In answer, the taller of the two pages reached out to restrain His Majesty.
The king slapped the man’s hand away. “You dare to touch your king!”
The page’s eyes widened as if he was at a loss for what to do. A man with a shock of white hair moved cautiously toward the king, a needle gripped in his hand. “Your Majesty,” he implored.
The king jerked toward the man. “You cannot make me eat! You cannot make me sleep!” The king pounded his fist against the chair he stood in front of. “Where is my queen? Where are my daughters?”
“Please, Your Majesty.” The physician, because surely he was one, tried to inch toward the king once more.
“Stay back,” the king hissed. “I don’t trust you. You lured me from my home with lies.”
Madelaine’s blood ran colder than the wintery waters of the river by her house. Beside her, Grey tensed. Was the king now insane? Was this what her father feared would come to pass and why he’d betrayed his liege? She swayed with the emotions of relief and pity.
“Your Majesty,” the physician tried again, his tone dropping close to a whisper. “No one wants your throne.”
A strangled laugh escaped the king. “Everyone wants my throne, right down to my eldest son.”
Madelaine nearly gasped. How right he was. She didn’t think the king was insane. He was sick, and he was angry because he knew many of those he needed to trust most were untrustworthy. Would turn on him. As her father had.
The king swung toward the door, and Madelaine hurried to scurry out of his way and the fury blazing from his eyes. He stopped in his tracks, his gaze widening for a moment as he assessed her, and then he inclined his head, once again every bit the strong leader, the noble king.
Her heart squeezed for him and what he must be enduring. To be unsure of your own mind and then to think you could not count on those around you to stand by you, her father included. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Lady Madelaine, to what do we owe this honor?”
She dropped to a curtsy, unsure what to say. When she stood, it was as if the tension of the room had drained away. “Your Majesty, I’m being escorted back to the castle by Lord Grey.” She regarded Grey. Let him tell the king she was a traitor, she’d not name herself so, even if it was now true. She loved the king, and if the decision had been hers alone to make—the truth struck her. By God, she would have never made the decision her father had.
“Lord Grey? I thought not to see you for some time. Do you not have business elsewhere?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but Lord Pearson charged me with seeing Lady Madelaine to her home and then back to Windsor first.”
The king’s mouth turned downward. “Come to my chambers. It seems we need to talk.” Command given, he exited the room, his gold-threaded robe flying out behind him. Grey grabbed Madelaine’s hand and pulled her behind him, and within a few moments she sat in a room and wrapped her hands around her waist to hide their shaking.
The king swept his gaze over her. “You have your mother’s eyes, rich amber like the finest tea in the kingdom.”
“You remember my mother?” Madelaine asked in surprise.
The king smiled, the act transforming his haggard face and making him appear almost healthy for a moment.
“But of course. I remember all beautiful women, but especially one who served my queen with such graciousness.”
Madelaine caught her breath. Thank goodness the king didn’t know how her mother had really felt about the queen. That would not help Madelaine to plead her case now. “My mother was very pleased to serve you,” Madelaine said, glad she could craft an answer that was not a lie.
The king leaned back in his chair. “I know. I admired your mother. It’s why I married her to your father. I thought to do her a service, but I fear I dealt them both a disservice.”
“I never knew you suggested my father marry my mother.”
The king chuckled. “I didn’t suggest it, Lady Madelaine. I commanded it, which is what kings do. Yet sometimes, even kings make a mistake, which is why I surround myself with wise men to counsel me.” The king focused on Grey. “Lord Grey, see Lady Madelaine to the library and then you and I shall speak.”
Madelaine stood and curtsied. Her eyes watered with emotion. His Majesty was obviously very astute when he was in his right mind. Anger flared in her. Her father was wrong. The king could rule, if strong men would help him as her father should have kept doing. Had he tried? Had he tried and the king refused? If not, she couldn’t fathom what had turned her father against the man he’d served his entire life.
Madelaine stayed in the seat where Grey had deposited her with instructions not to move a muscle. But the more she thought things over the more she decided she had every right to know what her fate was going to be. She eyed the closed library door and then the closed door that led to the king’s private chambers adjacent to the room she sat in.
One thing she’d grown good at over the years was eavesdropping to learn if her parents were fighting. That way she knew when to try to avoid her mother. She could hear secrets outside the thickest door so long as there was a crack at the bottom. The ornate door to the king’s private chamber with the sun filtering into the library from the bottom was no different than the less expensive door in her home.
