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Authors: Virginia Henley
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guilt for upsetting her. He contemplated offering a
word of comfort, then crushed down the impulse. He'd be
damned if he would encourage his future bride to harbor
feelings for another man, especial y the redoubtable Rickard
de Burgh.
Rosamond did not know how long she sat there before she
regained her senses, but she saw with relief that the tables
were being cleared. She fought the compulsion to flee as long
as she could, but she knew she must get away or go mad. As
if she were in a trance, she arose from the table, curtsied to
Lord Edward, and glided from the Great Hal .
Even when she was safely back in her bedchamber, the
compulsion to flee remained. Rosamond decided on the spot
that she would leave for Pershore at dawn. Tomorrow would
be a perfect time to escape Kenilworth, because everyone's
attention would be riveted on the mere. She final y told Nan
about the visit to Pershore, and they stayed up late packing.
She would put off asking Lady Eleanor's permission until
dawn, for Rosamond knew she could face no one else tonight.
When at last the packing was done, she crawled into bed,
emotional y spent, and fel into a dreamless sleep.
Rosamond's agony was stil ful blown at first light, when she
sought out the countess to reveal her plans. She knew that
Eleanor was pleased at her initiative. She also seemed
secretly amused. She knows I'm running away, Rosamond
thought. She thinks I'm running away from Rodger de Leyburn,
and she’s right... but I'm also running away from myself and the
anguish I feel! I cannot bear the fact that Sir Rickard is to
marry, yet I cannot stay at Kenilworth, drowning in self-pity. I
must get away! If only I could be someone else for a while,
until the pain in my heart stops.
"Be sure to take a groom, dearest, and any other servants you
need. I'm sure your bedding and a supply of fresh linen wil not
come amiss."
Because the men returning to Gloucester set off at an early
hour, the travelers expected to reach Pershore just before
noon. During the
44
entire ride, Rosamond was lost in deep, pensive thought. How
could she have been foolish enough to fal in love with Sir
Rickard de Burgh? Granted, he was the ideal knight, one any
maiden would sigh over, but how ridiculous she had been to
form more than a passing infatuation for the handsome Irish
warrior.
To love someone was to lose them; it had ever been thus!
When would she learn her lesson? She had guarded her heart
so wel , whatever had possessed her to let down her
defenses? Had Demi been right? Did she secretly long for
love? If so, she must put an end to such fancy immediately, for
love's only reward was heartbreak! And Rosamond knew wel
that a woman could die from heartbreak. It had happened to
her mother, when her father was kil ed in battle. As she rode
along, Rosamond resolved to build an iron carapace around
her heart, but it did not lessen the pain she felt over Sir
Rickard de Burgh's marriage. She knew only time could do
that.
The travelers arrived at their destination at the hour of noon.
Rosamond offered the knight in charge of the men-at-arms
Pershore's hospitality, but he declined, explaining that they
wanted to reach Gloucester before dark. She thanked the
knight warmly for his escort, then she and Nan, along with a
young groom leading a pair of pack-horses, rode through the
gates of Pershore.
In the bailey, hens and geese flapped and squawked as two
mangy-looking dogs chased them. Four men sat about a cask
of ale with tankards in their hands. They stared at Rosamond
openmouthed, but none rose to his feet to aid the travelers,
nor showed the least respect for the mistress of Pershore.
Rosamond was furious. "Who is in charge here?"
After a moment, one of the men got to his feet, but when he
staggered, Rosamond realized with horror that he was drunk .
. . they were al drunk! "You filthy, idle sots, I am Rosamond
Marshal! Where is my steward?" When there was no
word of comfort, then crushed down the impulse. He'd be
damned if he would encourage his future bride to harbor
feelings for another man, especial y the redoubtable Rickard
de Burgh.
Rosamond did not know how long she sat there before she
regained her senses, but she saw with relief that the tables
were being cleared. She fought the compulsion to flee as long
as she could, but she knew she must get away or go mad. As
if she were in a trance, she arose from the table, curtsied to
Lord Edward, and glided from the Great Hal .
Even when she was safely back in her bedchamber, the
compulsion to flee remained. Rosamond decided on the spot
that she would leave for Pershore at dawn. Tomorrow would
be a perfect time to escape Kenilworth, because everyone's
attention would be riveted on the mere. She final y told Nan
about the visit to Pershore, and they stayed up late packing.
She would put off asking Lady Eleanor's permission until
dawn, for Rosamond knew she could face no one else tonight.
When at last the packing was done, she crawled into bed,
emotional y spent, and fel into a dreamless sleep.
Rosamond's agony was stil ful blown at first light, when she
sought out the countess to reveal her plans. She knew that
Eleanor was pleased at her initiative. She also seemed
secretly amused. She knows I'm running away, Rosamond
thought. She thinks I'm running away from Rodger de Leyburn,
and she’s right... but I'm also running away from myself and the
anguish I feel! I cannot bear the fact that Sir Rickard is to
marry, yet I cannot stay at Kenilworth, drowning in self-pity. I
must get away! If only I could be someone else for a while,
until the pain in my heart stops.
"Be sure to take a groom, dearest, and any other servants you
need. I'm sure your bedding and a supply of fresh linen wil not
come amiss."
Because the men returning to Gloucester set off at an early
hour, the travelers expected to reach Pershore just before
noon. During the
44
entire ride, Rosamond was lost in deep, pensive thought. How
could she have been foolish enough to fal in love with Sir
Rickard de Burgh? Granted, he was the ideal knight, one any
maiden would sigh over, but how ridiculous she had been to
form more than a passing infatuation for the handsome Irish
warrior.
To love someone was to lose them; it had ever been thus!
When would she learn her lesson? She had guarded her heart
so wel , whatever had possessed her to let down her
defenses? Had Demi been right? Did she secretly long for
love? If so, she must put an end to such fancy immediately, for
love's only reward was heartbreak! And Rosamond knew wel
that a woman could die from heartbreak. It had happened to
her mother, when her father was kil ed in battle. As she rode
along, Rosamond resolved to build an iron carapace around
her heart, but it did not lessen the pain she felt over Sir
Rickard de Burgh's marriage. She knew only time could do
that.
The travelers arrived at their destination at the hour of noon.
Rosamond offered the knight in charge of the men-at-arms
Pershore's hospitality, but he declined, explaining that they
wanted to reach Gloucester before dark. She thanked the
knight warmly for his escort, then she and Nan, along with a
young groom leading a pair of pack-horses, rode through the
gates of Pershore.
In the bailey, hens and geese flapped and squawked as two
mangy-looking dogs chased them. Four men sat about a cask
of ale with tankards in their hands. They stared at Rosamond
openmouthed, but none rose to his feet to aid the travelers,
nor showed the least respect for the mistress of Pershore.
Rosamond was furious. "Who is in charge here?"
After a moment, one of the men got to his feet, but when he
staggered, Rosamond realized with horror that he was drunk .
. . they were al drunk! "You filthy, idle sots, I am Rosamond
Marshal! Where is my steward?" When there was no
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