Chapter 19 – Intervention

Valentina awoke with a gasp, the sheets clinging damp to her skin, her heart racing as if she had just sprinted through the steep alleys of Bridgewater. The fragments of her dream reluctantly receded from her consciousness. Giant hands gripping her hips, the weight of a massive body pressing her into the mattress, and grey-blue eyes that regarded her with that fascinating indifference.

“My goodness,” Vyxara purred in her head, the demon’s words dripping with amusement. “If your dreams get any more vivid, I’ll have to worry about you screaming in your sleep. That would be difficult to explain.”

“Oh, shut up,” Valentina thought back as she sat up and tried to calm her racing pulse.

“I’m just saying, the part where he threw you over his saddle like hunted game was particularly intriguing. Where do these fantasies come from?”

Valentina pressed her palms against her eyes. The dream had felt so real, so tangible, that she could still feel her body’s reaction to it, a warm throbbing between her legs that refused to go away.

A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Come in,” she called, forcing her voice to remain calm.

Margaret entered, already carrying a stack of carefully folded clothes over her arm. The older servant did her work with that ostentatious busyness of her’s that was already starting to get on Valentina’s nerves a little, drew the curtains, and laid out the washing utensils.

“Good morning, milady. I hope you slept well?”

“Yes, thank you,” Valentina yawned as she swung herself out of bed. The cool floor beneath her bare feet helped dispel the last remnants of her dream.

“The Parliament is not in session today,” Margaret explained as she laid out a simple but elegant dress in a soft shade of grey. “But His Grace has already sent word that he will be away on business all day and therefore the ladies will have no representative duties to perform. So you will have a quiet day, Milady.”

“Excellent,” Vyxara murmured contentedly. “Just what we need right now. That’s perfect timing.”

Valentina let Margaret help her into her morning gown, a simple piece without excessive embellishments, but of impeccable quality, of course. The soft fabric felt pleasant against her skin, and as Margaret pinned her hair up into a simple bun, Valentina looked at her reflection in the mirror with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation.

First, she would find out where the Tower was staying, and tonight, if everything went according to plan, she would go see him.

“Finally, you’re taking matters into your own hands,” Vyxara praised her. “I was afraid you would hesitate for days.”

“I wasn’t hesitating,” Valentina replied in her mind as she dismissed Margaret with a nod. “I’m planning.”

“Of course you are.”

~

Half an hour later, Valentina found Lady Beatrice in the small salon on the ground floor of the townhouse. The duchess’s first lady-in-waiting sat relaxed in an upholstered armchair by the window, with a stack of correspondence on the side table beside her, reading a letter with mild interest.

“Ah, Valentina,” Beatrice greeted her without looking up from her letter. “I was hoping you would join me. Without Parliament and tournament, the morning feels strangely empty, don’t you think?”

Valentina sank into the armchair opposite and tried to appear calm. “Yes, especially the tournament was really entertaining.”

“Entertaining doesn’t even begin to describe it. I haven’t enjoyed a tournament this much in a long time.” Beatrice finally put the letter aside and looked at Valentina with an amused twinkle in her eyes. “The Tower completely destroyed its opponents. I’ve rarely seen such raw dominance.”

“The perfect cue,” Vyxara remarked. “Use it.”

“Yes, he was impressive,” Valentina said, hoping her voice sounded casual enough. “It’s interesting that a simple Marcher Knight can get this far.”

“I’m a bit surprised you’ve developed such an interest in the tournament,” Beatrice said with a slight smile that made Valentina nervous. “But I won’t complain, at least I’m not the only one anymore.”

“But tell me,” Valentina asked as casually as possible, “you know a lot about the tournament and its participants. Do you happen to know where notable knights stay during the tournament? I mean, they can’t all be staying at the Palace.”

Beatrice raised a honey-blonde eyebrow. “A very specific question for someone who is only generally interested in the tournament.”

“She knows exactly what you’re getting at,” Vyxara giggled.

Valentina felt warmth rising to her cheeks, but she forced herself to hold Beatrice’s gaze. “I’m curious, that’s all.”

“Curious about knights in general?” Beatrice’s smile deepened. “Or about a particular knight? Perhaps one who happens to be about the size of a small tower?”

“Is an answer to that question a condition of your helping me?”

Beatrice laughed softly, but it was a warm laugh and didn’t come across as unkind. “No, of course not. Just like you, I’m just curious, that’s all.” She leaned back in her chair and looked at Valentina with an expression that was both knowing and indulgent. “I don’t know his specific lodgings, but I know who to ask to find out. I’ll have the information by tonight.”

Valentina nodded in relief. “Thank you, Beatrice.”

“You’re welcome.” Beatrice reached for her letter again, but her gaze lingered on Valentina for a moment, and there was something in that gaze, not condemnation, nor surprise, but rather a quiet, appraising expression that Valentina couldn’t quite place.

“She doesn’t seem at all surprised by your request,” Vyxara remarked thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.”

Valentina opened her mouth to say something, she didn’t know what exactly, to justify herself perhaps, when a knock at the door made both women look up.

A maid entered and curtsied before them. “Lady Beatrice, Valentina, Her Grace, the Duchess, requests your presence in her private salon. Immediately, if it pleases you.”

Valentina exchanged a quick glance with Beatrice, but the expression on the first lady-in-waiting’s face was inscrutable.

“Of course,” said Beatrice, rising gracefully. “We’ll be right there.”

“Something’s up,” Vyxara warned, suddenly alert. “And Beatrice knows about it.”

Valentina also stood up, her heart suddenly beating faster. What could Rosalind want from them so early in the morning, so urgently, when there was nothing pressing? Did she suspect something about Valentina’s plans regarding the Tower? But how could that be even possible?

She followed Beatrice and the maid to the duchess’s salon, and with every step her uneasiness grew.

The duchess’s private salon was located at the rear of the townhouse. When they entered, Duchess Rosalind was sitting relaxed in a high-backed armchair that was part of a small seating area. Nothing about her suggested haste or excitement, and yet there was something in her posture that immediately alarmed Valentina.

That’s when she saw Innogen.

Her friend was sitting on a small sofa against the opposite wall with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She was wearing a light mint green dress that made her golden hair shine, but her face was pale, and her blue eyes held a mixture of confusion and barely concealed fear.

“Interesting,” Vyxara murmured in Valentina’s head. The demon suddenly seemed wide awake. “So, whatever happened here was carefully planned.”

Lady Beatrice stepped into the room behind Valentina and closed the door behind them with a soft click. Then, instead of moving to one of the empty seats, she paused beside the duchess, one hand resting lightly on the back of Rosalind’s chair.

“Valentina, please sit down,” said the duchess, pointing to the chair next to Innogen. Her voice was calm, almost businesslike, as if she were discussing household matters.

Valentina obeyed, and as she sat down, she glanced quickly at Innogen. Her friend returned the glance, and in that brief moment, they shared the same silent question: What is going on here?

“Good,” said Rosalind, folding her hands in her lap. “We are among ourselves. No servants, no eavesdroppers, just the four of us. And I think it’s time we talked about some things that each of us carefully avoids mentioning.”

Valentina’s heart beat even faster now, painfully fast.

“Stay calm,” Vyxara warned. “I think she’s not testing you, she’s already made up her mind about something. Listen to what she has to say.”

The duchess addressed Innogen first, with a piercing yet not unkind gaze.

“Lady Innogen,” she began, “I will be direct, for this is not a conversation in which we wish to engage in courtly niceties. You love women, not men. That was clear to me from the first day I observed you.”

Innogen turned pale as chalk. Then a flush shot into her cheeks, a frantic red that spread from her neck to her temples.

“Your Grace, I-” she began, but Rosalind raised a hand.

“Don’t try to deny it. It’s painfully obvious, at least to someone who knows what to look for.” The duchess leaned back slightly. “The way you look at Valentina and the way you flinch when someone mentions the children you and Lorenzo will have and the way you look at my son as if you were a prisoner and he the scaffold to which you are being led.”

Innogen opened her mouth, then closed it again. Tears welled up in her eyes, which she desperately tried to hold back, while her hands trembled in her lap.

“I…” Her voice broke. “I never wanted to… I tried…”

“I know,” said Rosalind, and for the first time there was genuine warmth in her voice. “I know you tried. And I don’t condemn you, by all the flames of the Martyr, no, I don’t.”

Then the duchess turned to Valentina.

“And you, Valentina,” Rosalind continued, “are caught in a tangle of obligations and feelings that you yourself can hardly untangle. You are my husband’s mistress, yet you have feelings for my son, and he for you. And then there is Innogen and I’m not entirely sure what’s going on between you two exactly, but please don’t insult my intelligence by telling me you’re ‘just good friends’.” She made a small gesture that encompassed the two of them. “I’m sure you, Valentina, are desperately trying not to hurt anyone and not to commit any social faux pas, because you come from a humble background and are terrified of losing everything you have achieved and built up so far.”

Valentina felt naked and exposed to the bone. The duchess had seen through her, completely and mercilessly.

“You really can’t fool her,” Vyxara murmured, and the demon sounded almost impressed.

“How…” Valentina managed to say, but her voice failed her.

Rosalind smiled thinly. “How do I know? Do you two really think you’re the first women at court to love other women?”

Then the duchess looked up at Beatrice, who was still standing next to her chair. Her hand rose, slowly, almost casually, and her fingers intertwined with those of the first lady-in-waiting.

“Beatrice and I,” Rosalind said simply, “have been together for twelve years. It can work.”

For a moment, Innogen and Valentina were speechless.

Then something clicked in Valentina’s mind. She thought about what Master Lucian had told her a year ago in Dusktown, about the Earl of Meadowshire and his paramour, who was also his wife’s lady-in-waiting, as a cover and because it made everything easier. She thought about how Cosimo had brought her here and Rosalind had taken her on as a second lady-in-waiting, as a cover and because it made everything easier. Of course, why shouldn’t Rosalind make her own lover her lady-in-waiting? It was the perfect cover and made everything so much easier.

She remembered what Beatrice had told her after they arrived here in Vandercourt. “I know what you are, of course. To His Grace, I mean. I don’t judge. That would be extremely… hypocritical.”

She remembered the knowing looks she had never quite been able to place and the subtle touches between the two women, which she had considered nothing more than close friendship. And the way Beatrice always seemed to understand without needing anything explained to her.

She felt terribly stupid for having been so oblivious. It was painfully obvious in hindsight.

“Oh, that’s delicious,” Vyxara laughed in her head. And Valentina almost had to laugh too.

Next to her, Innogen sat frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief, tears running silently down her cheeks.

When Beatrice spoke for the first time, her voice was warm and reassuring. “It wasn’t always easy, but we learned to make it work within the confines of court life. A lot is possible with discretion, patience and understanding, but we also needed a lot of tolerance for the limitations we couldn’t change.”

Rosalind nodded and gently released her hand from Beatrice’s.

“Cosimo has his weaknesses,” she said. “Even great men have them, and he is a great man, there’s no question about that. But I owe him sincere gratitude and loyalty.” She paused. “He understood my nature early in our marriage. He could have raged, punished me, exposed me, by all means, he could have cast me out. Instead, we found an agreement that serves us both.”

She looked directly at Valentina. “He has his needs and I have mine, and we have both allowed ourselves to fulfill them. We have built something together. He has given me wonderful children whom I love more than anything. Our partnership is real, even if it is not romantic. And I still love him.”

“I would never betray him or undermine his interests,” the duchess continued. “Although…” A subtle smile played around her lips. “There are also things I don’t tell him, because it’s not always about him. But that’s what a working arrangement looks like. It can be more than hidden resentment behind a facade of duty, really, it can be a genuine alliance that serves everyone’s needs.”

Valentina saw Rosalind with new eyes. The respect she already felt for this woman deepened into something that bordered on awe.

The duchess straightened up, and her tone became more businesslike again. “But let’s get down to practical matters. The engagement between Innogen and my son must remain in place, of course, there really is no alternative. Too much depends on this alliance politically. My husband’s plans, even the future of the realm, in a sense.” She made a curt gesture with her hand. “But within those boundaries, there is room for maneuver. If we can get Lorenzo to understand and cooperate, your marriage can be structured in a way that works best for everyone.”

Innogen sobbed softly, but it was less a sound of despair and more one of relief.

“You will need ladies-in-waiting after the wedding, Innogen” Rosalind said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment so their meaning could sink in. “Valentina will, of course, remain Cosimo’s mistress. The arrangement will continue, partly because it would be the basis for everything else, in a way, but also because I have the impression that Valentina is quite happy with it, all things considered. For everything else, discretion is key. Men have their pride, we all have our reputations to uphold. Even when working within these limits, a lot is still possible.”

Innogen was now crying openly, and Valentina herself was struggling with a storm of emotions. There was gratitude, yes, but also a slight discomfort about her secrets being so out in the open, at least some of them, and her life being arranged, albeit with friendly intentions.

“It would be an enormously advantageous position, little Weaver,” Vyxara remarked soberly. “A triple connection to the future duke and duchess. You would basically be the linchpin of a particularly powerful triangle.”

“But everything must be laid out on the table,” said the duchess, her voice growing more serious. “I know my son has feelings for you, Valentina. I know he has asked his father for permission to marry you.” She looked directly at Valentina, not accusingly, just searching, as if she wanted to see her own conclusions confirmed. “And I suspect that something has happened between the two of you.”

Valentina swallowed hard. She felt Innogen’s gaze burning into her.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Something happened. One night a year ago, in Dusktown, the day before I returned to Bridgewater. Just once.”

She didn’t look at Innogen, but she felt her friend flinch.

“One less secret for you to carry around,” Vyxara murmured. “She’ll get over it.”

The duchess nodded slowly, as if she had expected exactly that answer.

“Then I’ll talk to Lorenzo,” she announced, rising from her chair. Beatrice followed suit. “I’ll include him in this conversation. He deserves to know the truth, and we need his cooperation for this to work.”

She walked to the door with Beatrice at her side, and turned around once more. “I’ll be back with him in a moment, and I suspect you two have some talking to do anyway.”