Page 41 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
“Hetty,” he whispered, his green eyes glittering in the darkness, “you know I do not believe any of it, don’t you? I know that it is all lies, cooked up by a desperate man, eager to keep your dowry. He is angry with you that you dare to call him out on what he has done, and he is getting his revenge …”
She sobbed again. “Well, it is working. Those judges want to believethe worst of me. They want to believe that Frank had no choice but to leave me.” She shuddered. “All is lost, Louis.All is lost.”
He grabbed her fiercely, pulling her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. She buried her face into his chest, unable to stop the torrent of tears from spilling over.
“How dare he,” she whispered, beating her hands against his chest. “How dare that man blacken my name with his lies. He knows that those judges will always believe the man over the woman. That they do not take much persuasion to condemn me as an adulteress …”
Louis sighed heavily, stroking her hair. “It is true, my love. Look at what Henry the Eighth did to get rid of the wives that he no longer wanted.” He paused. “He made up all manner of things about them, accused them of the most shocking things in order to get his way, knowing that once a woman’s name is besmirched in that manner, that the mud sticks …”
Hetty pulled away from him, gazing at him. “Yes, he did. He could never prove his allegations against Anne Boleyn, but it did not matter in the end. Everyone wanted to believe that she was guilty, and so it was done.” She paused, pensive. “He also claimed that his marriage to his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, was never valid, either, because she had first been married to his brother. He managed to procure an annulment because of it …”
Hetty’s heart started to quicken. Something was forming in her mind. Something that might just convince the court that she was telling thetruth about everything. Something that might just manage to fix all the damage that had been done today.
“Hetty, what is it?” asked Louis, frowning. “You look as if you have suddenly found a fortune.”
She couldn’t tell him. Not yet. It might not work, and besides, she didn’t want to get his hopes up. She needed to think it through thoroughly.
“You should go,” she whispered, her eyes shining. “It is not safe.”
They kissed passionately, and then he stole out of the room as silently as he had arrived. Hetty walked over to the window, staring down at the unfamiliar streets of the city where they were staying. Her mind was whirring like a cog in a wheel, and she could not hope to rest, yet, even though she was so very weary.
She thought about Frank, safely ensconced with his mistress, in the small fishing village, in Provence. He had been so very confident that he hadn’t even bothered to make the journey back to England. He had thought that all he needed to do was pen some lies about her, and he would be home and hosed.
He thought wrong.
Because there was one little thing that Frank had forgotten about. He could call her all the names under the sun, but he couldn’t prove a word of it. He was counting on the fact that the law almost always believed the man over the woman. But shedidhave proof that his lies were just that.
She thought of Louis, patient, kind Louis, who had told her he was willing to wait to make love to her, until their wedding night, as a sign of his commitment to her. She had been impatient, wanting to make love with him, but now, she was very glad – so very glad – that they hadn’t. That Louis had insisted that they wait.
She almost laughed out loud. Her love of history was proving very beneficial indeed.
Good old Henry the Eighth. He had been a clever man. He almost always got what he wanted, in one way, or the other. His queens had been clever women, too. And she was about to take a leaf out of all of their books, and use her mind, and her knowledge, to pull out her trump card.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. Frank Blackmore was going to rue the day that he had decided to take her on. Because hewasgoing to be made to pay for all that he had done to her in spades. And no amount of lies, on his side, was going to change it.
Chapter 18
Hetty gazed steadily at the bishop, sitting in the middle of the three judges, trying to ignore Louis, who had already taken the same seat in the gallery that he had occupied the day before. She needed not to be distracted by his presence. She must focus on what she must do for both of their sakes, or else, they had no chance of ever forging a life together.
She was weary, so very weary. She had barely slept the night before, after formulating her plan, tossing and turning. Once, she had awoken with a start, after a particularly vivid dream of her wedding day.
She shuddered, thinking about it. She had been walking down the aisle of the church she had been married in, on her father’s arm. She could clearly see the expectant faces of the congregation, smiling at her as she drifted past them. She could see the figure waiting for her at the altar, his back to her. Frank.
But something changed in the strangest of ways. A dark shadow fell over the church, almost blackening the happy faces of the people. And suddenly – sickeningly – she gazed down at herself, appalled to find that instead of wearing her beautiful, expensive wedding gown, she was, in fact, wearing nothing at all.
The happy faces of the congregation abruptly changed. As she tried frantically to cover herself, they started mocking and jeering her. And then, the figure at the altar slowly turned around to watch her.She screamed as she realised that he had no face at all …
The memory of that terrible dream lingered now like a bad smell around her. It had been haunting her all morning as she dressed and breakfasted and made her way with her parents, back to this building, to face the court, once again. She didn’t know what to make of it. Was it a bad omen?
She took a deep breath, pushing it out of her mind. She mustn’t think about it. It was just her worries and fears, roaming her mind, while she was asleep, emerging in her dreams. It was no bad omen, no premonition, of what was to come. She must believe that.
And now, the time was coming, when maybe – just maybe – she might be able to lay all of those worries and fears to rest.
She raised her hand. The bishop frowned slightly. “Yes, Mrs Blackmore. You wish to speak?”
She took another deep breath for courage. “Yes, my lord. There is something that has occurred to me that has not been put before this court,” she said slowly. “Something that I believe could change the course of these proceedings entirely.”
***
