Hugh and Bess Read Online Free Page B

sharing her trencher, cut her meat for her and offered her the best pieces. His manners were impeccable, Bess had to admit, perhaps too much so, as if he had to be particularly well behaved to compensate for his father's disgrace. She stared at the dais where Joan sat beside Will, flanked by the king and queen. At least Joan was talking to her new husband now. If Bess strained a little harder, she might have been able to hear bits of their conversation, were it not for the voice by her own ear. She turned to Hugh with irritation. “Yes?”
      “I was saying that I liked your robes. That pale green suits you. Many women can’t wear it well; it washes out their complexions.”
      Bess herself had been admiring the effect of her green robes just that morning. Hugh was the first person to compliment her on them. “Thank you,” she had no choice but to say. “Yours suit you too,” she added, though she had scarcely looked at what her husband-to-be was wearing to know if she was speaking the truth.
      Hugh, however, looked pleased that he had elicited this much from her. “I like this shade of blue, perhaps too much, because I wear it all of the time. My tailor's given me fair warning that I must pick something else for our wedding day, so be forewarned. You may not recognize me.” He put his hand over Bess's, who willed her own hand not to jerk away. “The next wedding will be ours, I suppose.”
      “Yes.” Hugh's hand, firm and steady, remained on hers. It was not, she realized, an entirely unpleasant sensation.
      At the dais, King Edward leaned over and pinched the bride's cheek. Bess winced in sympathy for Joan at the familiarity, taken before so many spectators. Hugh smiled. “I suppose that's the royal right. Do you know the king well? Have you been much to court?”
      She shook her head. “Just a few times with my parents, and then I stayed with Joan and the royal children. I’ve seen more of the queen than the king. She's very kind.” She blinked at having uttered what must have been the longest remark she had ever made to Hugh. “I suppose you know the king well, being his kinsman?”
      “Not all that well, though I’ve been in his company often enough. We’re on good terms, mind you, but I wouldn’t say we’re nearly as close as he is to your father. Who, it appears, is getting ready to speak.”
      The Earl of Salisbury rose and clapped for silence. After commenting gallantly on the beauty of his son's young bride (indeed, Bess noted enviously, there was not a male in the room who had not been gazing at Joan raptly at some time or the other), he lifted his cup and said, “And God willing, there will soon be another wedding in the Montacute family. Between my little Bess here and Sir Hugh le Despenser!”
      There was an uneasy silence for a breath or two and Bess felt a twist of pity as she sensed Hugh tensing beside her. Then the king himself stood. “To Sir Hugh and Lady Elizabeth!” he said, smiling as suddenly the room resounded with cups clanking and hands clapping. “May they soon wed and prosper.”
      Hugh relaxed. His relief was so palpable that instinctively, Bess gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as they rose to acknowledge the well-wishers. He looked down at her with surprise and smiled. “Well, the news is out at last, my lady.”
      He bent as if to kiss her, to Bess's horror. A handclasp was one thing, but to be kissed by a traitor's son more than twice her age with the king looking on, and very likely to make a comment, was quite another. She jerked away.
      Hugh straightened. In a calm voice that to Bess's grudging admiration bore no resentment of the rebuff he had just received, he said, “There will be dancing soon, my lady. Might I partner you?”
      “Oh, I suppose,” muttered Bess.
     
     
     
      It was soon after this, when Will and Joan had gone off to live by themselves, albeit in separate chambers until they—or at least Will—matured a little,