‘Jean, you are wrong if you think that fear for my soul will keep me from visiting Dame Berthe. I’ve been your leman for a score of years. I doubt that one more sin will tip the balance over-much – I’m already bound for the devil’s pit.’
He stared intently at her. ‘Don’t listen to the priests, love, or you’ll end up twisted like your poor mother. You’re an honest woman, and God would not–’
‘Honest? Your mistress, and honest? There are those who would gainsay you on that, my love.’
‘Nevertheless, it’s true. You’re honest and steadfast – the best mate a man could have.’
Yolande interrupted her lover’s eulogy, for she was not seeking praise. ‘Jean, I think this one’s a boy.’
He didn’t move a muscle, but Yolande knew where his thoughts were winging. Jean was thinking that if he married her now and the child was male, he would have a legitimate heir. He would have good reason to resurrect their tenuous claim to Izabel’s lands. And now that Waldin was coming home, to reinforce their hand...
He took Yolande’s chin and tipped her face to his. ‘I thought it was impossible to tell?’
Yolande crossed her fingers under the bedcover. ‘So it is. But I sense it strongly, Jean. This one will be a boy.’
‘An heir,’ he murmured. ‘An heir.
Wisely, Yolande let his thoughts run on. If Jean believed the babe was a boy, he might yet marry her. He had something worth passing on to his heirs these days. Was it wrong for her to use the unborn child as a weapon – if that was the only weapon she had? She was only trying to ensure that the child was born legitimate.
‘Waldin has such a reputation, Yolande. With him home, every soldier in Brittany will flock to our standard.’ Jean’s face glowed as in his mind’s eye, ambitious dreams were fulfilled.
‘Only if God wills it, Jean.’ Yolande touched his arm. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to use the arrival of that wastrel of a brother as an excuse to make an honest woman of me after all these years?’
‘Nay, love,’ he had the grace to look ashamed, ‘you know I would have married you years ago, except that–’
‘It was not politic. I know. Do you remember that Frenchwoman you pretended to woo?’ She clucked her tongue, gently mocking. ‘No, don’t start apologising. You explained it years ago. I understood your wish to better yourself.’
Jean looked at her past jutting brows. ‘Aye. And then that fire – on my soul, I feared to provoke the Count.’
‘The fire is one event I’m not likely to forget. My poor mother... But let’s turn our minds to the future. Waldin–’
‘Waldin will be here before we know it,’ he said. ‘He will strengthen our position immeasurably.’ He picked up her hand. ‘Let’s marry when Waldin gets here.’
‘What?’ Triumph disarmed her.
Jean tweaked a braid, and his mouth turned up at the corners. ‘You heard. Waldin can witness our wedding. Let’s have one legitimate child.’
Yolande gulped and gazed wordlessly at her lover through a rush of tears. Her child was saved. One at least was saved.
‘Can you wait?’
‘What, till Waldin gets here? Of course.’ Then she caught his meaning. He must be stupid with fatigue. ‘Oh, I see. The babe. That’s not a problem, the babe’s not due till after Lammas.’
‘Good.’ Relaxing back onto the mattress, Jean shut his eyes. ‘Now that we’ve raked that one over good and proper, can we go to sleep, please?’
Yolande remembered Gwenn. ‘Not yet, I’m afraid.’
He groaned and lifted weary lids. ‘Can’t it wait?’
‘No. It concerns Gwenn. I don’t think you realise that she’s a young lady, Jean. We ought to plan her future.’
‘Plenty of time for that,’ airily, Jean waved that worry aside. ‘Let’s see ourselves wed first.’
Yolande studied her lover, trying to assess whether she was pushing him too far. She didn’t want to lose what ground she had gained. It might be no bad thing to leave settling Gwenn’s affairs till after her own wedding. Her belated marriage might not confer legitimacy on Gwenn, but it would make her a more attractive proposition.
Yolande nestled against Jean’s side, resting her head on his shoulder while one hand pushed open the neck of his chainse and drew circles among the hairs on his chest. There was grey intermixed with the brown, they were neither of them growing any younger. ‘I pray you are right,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m not so sure that we do have plenty of time.’
‘God’s bones, of course there’s time. We’ve years of living left to do.’
Yolande spread her fingers on his chest. ‘I daresay I’m wrong, indeed I hope I am, but I have noticed that Gwenn seems to spend a large portion of her day with one of the men-at-arms. It would be dreadful, would it not, if she were to get herself,’ a deprecating smile touched the corners of her mouth, ‘into the same state that I find myself.’
Jean caught her hand and stilled the circling movements. ‘I’ve noticed nothing. You must be mistaken. None of them would presume...’ Jean watched Yolande arch an immaculate eyebrow. ‘Who is it?’
‘Ned Fletcher.’
‘Fletcher? I trust Fletcher. I let him take her riding.’
‘Exactly. Think of the opportunities that presents.’
‘Ned Fletcher?’ Jean drummed his fingers on the back of Yolande’s hand. ‘I own you’ve surprised me. I’d not have thought it of that lad. He’s one of my best – responsible and hard-working.’ Impatiently, he thrust back his hair. ‘Damn it all, Yolande, I like the boy. I’d hoped to make him sergeant.’
‘I like him too, Jean. But don’t you see, that makes him even more dangerous.’
‘You don’t think he’s had her already? No one will want her if she’s lost her virtue.’
‘No. I’m prepared to take my oath that they are both innocents. You should have seen the way he blushed when she fluttered her eyelashes at him this evening.’
‘The hussy. It would be damned inconvenient if she fancied herself in love with him. Does she?’
‘I think not. But you know what a baggage Gwenn can be. She has discovered the effect she has on the boy, and cannot help but try out her wiles on him. The result is that the poor lad is being teased mercilessly. I’m sure she doesn’t mean to be cruel, but you know Gwenn, she has to test everything to the limits.’
‘Something will have to be done, I agree. I’ll keep an eye on them. I won’t have my Gwenn wasting herself on some peasant boy who couldn’t keep her in clogs. I had it in mind for her to marry a wine merchant in Vannes, Dagobert by name.’
‘No, Jean. Not Vannes. Gwenn hates Vannes.’
Jean looked down his nose at her. ‘The whim of my daughter does not come into this.’
‘It’s more than any whim, Jean.’
Her objection went unheeded, and the sensuous mouth tightened. ‘Marriage is a matter of politics,’ Jean said, mouthing the beliefs of his class. ‘Daughters marry to suit their parents, and if it suits me to make an alliance with one of the richest men in Vannes, she’ll obey me. However,’ the muscles round his mouth relaxed, ‘as we are to be married soon, I think I’ll commence negotiations in another quarter. Since our household is to turn respectable, and Gwenn’s brother,’ he placed tender fingers on Yolande’s belly, ‘will claim your mother’s lands, we’ll want more than a vintner for our eldest daughter.’ He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘By St Patern, I’m worn out. If I promise to look into this, will you let me get some sleep?’
Yolande smiled. ‘I will. Good night, Jean.’
He reached for the lantern, and snuffed out the flame. ‘Good night, my love.’
Chapter Twelve
At dawn two days later, Gwenn went to the stables to meet Ned for their early morning ride as had become their custom. The day was bright and clear, so clear it seemed to shine.