Venus Revealed

Chapter: 2

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"Your brother has offered you to me." He put it to her as bluntly as he could, watching her face intently. She wasn't surprised, giving a slow nod, still staring out the window, her arms crossed over her breast.

"He's always felt our father was a fool not to advance the family through me. They argued up until the day father died. Then Thomas waited. He came to England and he watched. After Will died, I lost everything."

Adhemar moved to her, stopping just shy of reaching her. She was in a pensive mood, that lively sparkle he'd seen at the banquet gone, her lovely face set in a thoughtful frown. "What did you lose?" Ten years earlier, she would have whirled with an angry look, asking how he could not see her loss. Now, she only shrugged apathetically, tilting her head to one side, still staring out the window. What was she looking at? The view outside, or the remembrances of a happier time in the past?

"Aside from my husband? My home. My friends. Thomas drove Roland, Wat and Kate away with his abuse. Roland stayed as long as he did only for Christiana. She's refused to leave me. He took their children and waits for her to join him." An almost defeated sigh left her parted lips, her shoulders sagging. "I have little left, only a son who misses having a father."

"I can give you a home," he said, raising his brows and waiting for an answer. When none was forthcoming, Adhemar leaned against the rough stone wall beside the window. "I would even bring your friends back to you if they are willing."

Her head turned, her glance going up and down him several times, eyes narrowing. "Can you give me love, for that is what I miss most in my current existence."

He blinked. Love? "You married for love and it hurt you in the end, yet still you want that emotion?" Unfathomable. Women were the oddest of creatures, to venture repeatedly after something that gave them immeasurable pain.

"Yes."

The hope on her face wrenched at him the tiniest bit, though he didn't understand it at all. He couldn't love her. Indeed, was he even capable of love? He'd never really given the matter much thought. Love had never entered into his life equation, even when he'd married Rochelle. "What is your definition of that word love?" he queried. "I saw you a decade ago play William Thatcher and myself as a puppeteer might. He won you in the end and you called his labors for you love. By that, I can only conclude that love to you means a blind devotion."

Her expression faltered, the surprise flickering through her gaze quickly masked. That glimmer jolted him out of any need to pity her situation. Taking a mental step back, he realized she was going through the motions, giving him what he expected to hear from her lips. She was acting. The thought amused him.

"I won't give you blind devotion, Lady Jocelyn. Don't let the possibility of that enter into your mind. You would not rule me as I have come to find you ruled your husband. He followed your definition of love until he keeled over and died from it. I'm most definitely not William Thatcher."

With a squaring of her shoulders, Jocelyn turned to face him, looking him directly in the eyes, a bold move many women avoided. "Very well. I don't truly want love. I've had it. Once is enough for the pain of a love loss."

"Oh?"

"To completely honest, Count Adhemar, and I know your ego can take it, you are the lesser of the evils my brother would align me with. Besides, it seems to me that you need me just as much as I need you."

A satisfied grin curved her mouth. Intriguing. What did she mean by that? "Do explain. The suspense of waiting for your conclusions is maddening." This was what he wanted to see, a woman in full and not some naïve young girl with romantic dreams clouding her eyes; a woman willing to bargain and shrewd in doing so. "Explain how I need you, and not the obvious need please."

His innuendo made her eyes widen. "It's quite simple really. With Rochelle dead and only girls from her, her family will have nothing to do with you. They don't claim you. Now," She laid a finger on her cheek as though in deep thought. "Correct me if I'm wrong. To stay in royal favor, you need a royal connection. I have a connection. Granted, it's in the English royal house and not the French. Prince Edward is dead, yes, but not the tie that Will formed there. We were often welcomed by Joan in their house. I could easily go to her if I chose and be welcomed anywhere.... I and my...husband."

An accurate accounting. She'd certainly thought it through. "And?"

"You need a mother for Genevieve and Ana and a wife to provide you with more children, possible male heirs to inherit your holdings."

"You only had one child with Thatcher," he pointed out with a shrug.

"A mutual decision, one that seemed right at the time. There are ways to prevent conception. Not always the most comfortable of course, but they work. Don't tell me that Count Adhemar, the purported great lover, is ignorant of such things?" She raised her brows in triumph over her dig at his reputation.

Her use of language would have given a chaperone, had there been one present, heart palpitations. No lady should speak of such things. He was delighted to find out she was not as much of a lady as he'd once thought her to be. "I'm only ignorant of things when it pleases me to play at being so."

"We would have a business arrangement, you and I." she continued, pointing a finger at him, then at herself.

"As marriage should be. Notions of love are for the young."

She nodded. "Yes. I won't ask for blind devotion, Count. However, our bargain will be with this condition: I will not be less than equal to you, for I have never been less to my husband. I would strike a bargain advantageous to us both, more so than the one you shared with Rochelle. You keep me in the life I want, and I will be the loving wife in public you've never had, bearing you children until you say 'enough'. Yes?" She tilted her head in a coquettish gesture. "You keep your end and I will keep mine."

Her gaze was intriguingly cold and calculating with a bit of arrogance thrown in. Very enticing, extremely titillating, this glimpse of determination to match his own. Equal? How equal was equal exactly? It was one of those words that could be twisted to suit his whim. She didn't specify in what area she wanted that equality. "Well, Lady Jocelyn, I believe we have a bargain." Adhemar caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, gently brushing the back before releasing it.

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The wolfish smile he favored upon her at the conclusion of their exceptionally brief negotiations nearly made Jocelyn change her mind about this plan of hers. Over the hours following that meeting, she'd gone over their conversation in her mind, searching for something that had been said to cause that grin. It couldn't be that he'd caught her in playacting. It was after the bargain had been met that he'd grinned as though he'd won some huge battle.

"I'm meeting with Count Adhemar tomorrow morning after mass, Jocelyn. I expect to have conditions pounded out by afternoon."

The expression on Thomas' face was every bit as wolfish as Adhemar's had been. He stared at her, expectation in his eyes. Oh very well, she thought. He wanted a scene. He wanted yet another chance to show off that he was master over her. With great difficulty, she managed to suppress her sigh of boredom at this game he loved to play. Really, didn't he ever get tired of being a horse's ass? "Why even tell me? Just go and present me with a fait accompli."

He strolled to her chair, placing his hands on the arms and leaning over her. His sour breath made her wince. "You still hate him, don't you? I can tell. You tried to look happy at the banquet the other night, but I can tell there's still ill will for him in your heart."

No, brother dear, she thought, that hatred you see is for you. I forgave Adhemar long years ago for what he did. "Not that it matters to you. You'll still wed me to him."

Standing, he wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Now that was genius, don't you think? There were so many men that I knew disgusted you, but finding Count Adhemar here and looking for a wife was luck. I thought, what better future for you, than to marry the man you'd jilted ten years ago for a peasant? You hate him. I'm certain his thoughts on you aren't all warm and loving. A perfect match." He grinned. "I think I can overlook the matter of his dwindled wealth just for the pleasure of seeing you squirm."

"Does it ever bother you Thomas, how repugnant you are? A loathsome worm." Jocelyn fixed a withering glare upon him, wishing just once that God would strike Thomas with lightning.

He snorted loudly. "Says you, sister dear. I can't for the life of me see why the man wants you anyway, not after you jilted him."

"I didn't jilt him. I was never promised to him."

"Negotiations were open and nearly completed when your peasant won that joust. One letter about how you were kissing that boy before all London and father suddenly decided to take your wishes into account. No, I doubt Adhemar considered himself jilted."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Sarcasm doesn't become you, brother."

Thomas shrugged. "Like I care. I wonder if he'll be agreeable to a quick wedding? The sooner I get you and your brat out of my house, the better."

Jocelyn watched him saunter from the room and slowly got up from her chair. Over the course of her life, she'd often wondered just why Thomas seemed to hate her so much. True, their father had doted on her, but Thomas was the first born. He was the son. The heir. She hugged herself, willing the ever present sadness inside her to go away. The loss of Will would have been much easier to bear with friends about her. Instead, her friends were pushed away and she, Miles and Christiana were taken to the old family home. She'd already grieved enough for a lifetime. Will would want her to move on, to get back to living. He'd had such a joy for life in him, an enthusiasm for every single day that was astounding.

Enough of that! She couldn't be sad and bawling this night, not if she wanted to accomplish her goal.

Shaking her head, she made her way up the stairs, going into the small chamber Miles occupied. He was asleep, Christiana sitting by the fire with her embroidery, needle flashing in the firelight. Jocelyn kissed her son on the cheek, straightened the covers about him, and motioned for Christiana to follow her.

When they were in Jocelyn's chamber, she sat on the edge of her bed. "It is official. Thomas meets with Adhemar tomorrow morning. He's unbelievably smug about it too."

"Thomas or Adhemar?" Christiana asked, picking up a brush from the table and going to her mistress.

"Both, but Thomas is insufferable." Jocelyn turned so Christiana could take down her hair and brush it. She heard a long breath, as though the woman was going to speak, yet she said nothing. "Well?"

"What?"

"You've never been silent before on men, so why start now?"

"You've made up your mind. There's nothing I could say to change it." The brush was applied in long slow strokes. "Suffice it to say that I don't believe Count Adhemar is your only option. You're limiting yourself."

"Thomas limits me, Christiana. If father had been dead ten years ago, I would have been wed to Adhemar regardless of the outcome of the joust."

"But you weren't married to him. You married Sir Will. How can you go from Sir Will to Count Adhemar? I don't understand that."

Raising her hands, Jocelyn caught at Christiana's, looking over her shoulder at her. "How old am I, Christiana?"

She glanced away, then back. "Nearly thirty, my lady."

"That's right. I don't have the options I had back then. Many of the men who courted me then are married, which leaves those widowed, those much younger than me or much older. Thomas has most of the power here. He decides who is presented to me, if he presents at all before a match is made. He has at least given me the courtesy of telling me he's settled on Adhemar, though I don't trust him to stay settled on him."

Christiana stared at her for a long moment, then yanked her wrists back, eyes wide with comprehension. "Tell me you're not planning what I think you are. Tell me. Tell me you don't plan to go to Adhemar. I understood when you went to Sir Will, but not this."

"I need you to stay with Miles tonight." Jocelyn got up, grasped her maid's shoulders. "Please watch him for me."

"Don't do it, my lady." Christiana shook her head. "You can't get out of it then if you need to."

"I can't get out of it anyway unless Thomas breaks contract. I can only face it on my terms and on my terms it will be."

"But to go to him...." Her voice trailed off, her gaze pleading with Jocelyn to just laugh and say she'd been joking, that she wasn't serious, that she wasn't this desperate. Desperate.

Desperation had a way of changing one's outlook and Jocelyn's view of Adhemar had changed because of it. Christiana was right. Her mind was made up. Nicholas Adhemar was going to be her husband and that was final. Like she had done long years earlier, she was going to wrap herself up in pretty trapping and present herself as a prize. She'd talked herself into this. "He's not like I remember him. I think he's...different than he was, not as condescending. He's weary, Christiana, as I am. Now, have a bath prepared for me, then find that sheer nightdress. I'll wear it under my cloak."

Christiana's shoulders slumped. "You dishonor Sir Will's memory."

A lump formed in Jocelyn's throat, but she swallowed it, refusing to burst into tears. "Will would want me to get on with my life. To have a life of my choosing, I must settle and outmaneuver Thomas. I chose Adhemar because I know him. He's a shrewd businessman and I don't doubt that without a wife who spends his money as fast as it comes in, his fortunes will improve quickly. Rochelle hasn't been dead nine months yet. These things take time. Adhemar was here this morning. He and I have come to an agreement already."

A groan left her maid. "My lady!"

"As I said, we've come to an agreement. I'm going tonight to seal our bargain and make certain Thomas could potentially be quite embarrassed backing out of negotiations."

A sigh. Resignation played on Christiana's fine features "What time does he expect you?"

"He doesn't." That was the beauty of her plan. She would catch him by surprise. He wouldn't be expecting her to come to him. And when Thomas discovered her there in the morning....

Jocelyn stretched. It felt good to be mistress of her own destiny once more.