Thirty-Five

ADALENE felt tears fill her eyes and rapidly spill over.
This was the reason why she wanted to be alone. She knew she was about to cry.
She did not expect it would hurt this much.
She had only known the Baron for a few days, and yet he had become so important.
She shouldn’t have fallen in love with him. How stupid could she be?
But when he said he would give her groom a lesson on how to treat a man’s woman right, he also taught it to her.
And now she would never, ever forget him.
She would always be grateful for the little glimpses of heaven afforded her during the short time they were together.
But it was too short a time!
Her heart was breaking into what felt like tiny little pieces. She did not want to go.
But Lady Veronique would never allow Fabian to keep her, while she didn’t know she could survive not being the only woman in his life, knowing there would be nights he would be in his wife’s bed – or bear the trouble Lady Veronique’s vengeance would bring her family.
Adalene heard of how petty she could be when angered, and she definitely felt the heat emanating from her every time the woman was near her or would deign to look at her.
She didn’t want her taking out her anger on the Baron, either. She came from a powerful family. Would that endanger Fabian’s standing if Lady Moranville got angrier that he dared keep a mistress?
*No, no.*
She could not be selfish, nor could she endanger anyone else. And...
She would rather die than live in bitterness and jealousy, when she didn’t have a right to feel those with her standing in life amongst this aristocracy.
Adalene decided, even though it broke her heart, that she would have to leave the Baron as soon as they got back home.
She sat on the bench that she found in a secluded place in between a few trees and cried as softly as she could. She didn’t want anyone to notice her, if there was even anyone near.
She glanced back and found that Olivie was not there.
She could have stayed a little back to give Adalene her privacy. She was too miserable, anyway, and she didn’t know the woman that well to let her see her crying, so Adalene was actually grateful about being alone.
Fabian’s men would be at a shouting distance, as always, so she didn’t think much of it.
And she cried and tried to cope with her feelings as fast as she could. She wanted to be calm when she faced the Baron again.
“Oh now... what do we have here?”
She looked up in surprise.
A tall man was standing there, older than Fabian, and bearded.
She knew she had seen him in the castle’s great hall. He was a knight, by his garb.
And she realized he was one of the men that accompanied Lady Veronique and her ladies-in-waiting.
She stood up in deference, glad that it was a little dark there and her tears could not be seen easily. She wanted to leave right away.
“Sir. I—”
“The young and lovely Madame Duvre. I’ve wanted to approach you regarding a proposition, but you’ve been notoriously guarded ever since you came with the Baron. A lucky man, I think, is he.”
Adalene stared at him. The cheeks showing on the face were very flushed, from what she could see in the meager light provided by the moon and a distant lighted lamp.
His voice slurred a little, though he could still talk well enough to be understood.
“Proposition, sir?” she repeated, getting very nervous that he was getting nearer to her.
Her eyes went towards his back, wondering how he got near her without the guards or Olivie, wondering why she couldn’t see them.
But he suddenly lunged for her.
Adalene was looking away and she wasn’t fast enough when she tried to turn away. Her gown made it difficult for her and his hands caught her.
She was horrified. He smelled of heady wine and oil of roast meat and she was pushing him away.
But his grip was strong. He was not as drunk as he seemed at first.
“Sir! What are you doing?”
“I am here first! I am first!” he was saying in a voice that he seemed to want to sound crooning, but only sounded disgusting.
“What do you mean?!” she asked, shocked.
Instead of explaining, he tried to pull her face towards his face while the wet lips above his beard formed a pout that only meant he was stealing a kiss!
She didn’t think.
Her fist went to his face instead and the blow had him staggering.
She held her hurt hand, but it was satisfying. She slipped away from his grasp.
And she would have gotten away had she not tripped and bumped on the side of the bench that she forgot was there.
And then she tripped on a small statue of a gnome and fell to the ground.
She felt her head hit the side of another statue, and she lay there, flat and winded, pain stinging the side of her forehead.
She felt warm blood escape from her skin, but she was aware and it was the least of her concerns then.
She managed to sit up and crawl towards the back of the bench before he could reach her again, ready to scream at any moment.
Olivie should be near enough. She could run for help, Adalene thought. No, she couldn’t afford to get scared. She needed to think straight!
The man was still reeling but she could see he was recovering and was looking for her on the ground.
But he was indeed drunk enough to make him awkward. She cringed in revulsion when she remembered the reek of alcohol, and how oil and bits of meat decorated his beard.
And then he saw her.
The wooden slats on the bench had spaces in between, and he started towards her.
“Wait! W-What proposition did you mean?” she asked to distract him as she thought of what to do. A scream could cause a scandal. She was hoping the knights would check on her soon so she could avoid this new trouble for the Baron.
The man stopped to nurse his jaw, stunned instead of angry. “Oh, you pack a good blow, you.” He was smiling! “But since I will be first to acquire your... services, I will let this go for now. They said the Baron had you a virgin fist, so it means you are still quite fresh and tight.”
She gulped, trying so hard to hide how scared she was starting to get.
She was hiding from him a rock in her hand, planning to hit him with it if he got near enough.
“Services means not cooking for you or serving your meals, you mean?”
He crowed. “Unwrapping your thighs so wide open that I can partake of your sumptuous cunt, it means. The Baron will be occupied with my cousin, Lady Veronique, as soon as the arrangement for their marriage is announced tonight in the Duke’s great hall. They are readying the bed as we speak. Veronique wants it done right away so he could not escape, and I never knew her to share her possessions willingly.”
“I don’t offer ‘services’,” she said angrily.
“Oh. You are telling me you’re not letting the Baron nibble on the luscious offerings you have hidden underneath that rather expensive gown? I do not believe you.”
Adalene thought she shouldn’t feel dismayed or surprised.
She was already waiting for someone to show her how lowly she was or how a fool to believe her association with the Baron would save her from ridicule.
Her wedding morning and Louis Didier should have readied her somewhat for this.
But it still hurt so much.
“I am not a whore, Sir!” Adalene protested, tears smarting in her eyes. There was a throbbing in her forehead but at least the blood had stopped.
“Did you mean the Baron did not pay to get to your bed?” he mocked.
“He paid. He paid for my dowry and my bride token. Legally, that does not make me a whore, but his bride.”
Well, she knew this to be true, though she knew what the real truth was—that the Baron did it out of kindness and not because he considered her a bride.
But the crass knight did not know this.
The man was taken aback. “You jest.”
“I don’t. You can ask around. I... he paid to save me from a despicable creature of a man. He has been nothing to me but kind.”
The man laughed. Bits of his saliva showered in the air as he let go of a malicious crowing from what seemed to be a sandy throat.
“I’m sorry, but I really cannot believe you. No man will do that without asking anything in return.”
His eyes feasted on her as if she was already naked.
“And one look at you is enough to know what the Baron wanted. Well, I can pay well... but only for the services of a whore, my lady. You are not a virgin anymore or a bride on her first night,” he said sarcastically. “So let’s just stop this jesting and name your price. We can do it here if you don’t want others to see you go inside my bedchambers.”
“No...” she began to protest, getting her hand with the rock ready because he was coming for her again. Where were the knights? Where was Olivie?
“But the lady does not jest,” said another voice.