Trapped at the Altar

Meet me at the entrance to St. James’s Park across the street at ten this evening.

Short and to the point. He dropped the note down the reeking black hole into the midden beneath, relieved himself, and headed back to the brightly lit kitchen. Voices were raised in raucous laughter, and singing spilled out into the yard as he unlatched the door.

He slid into his chair again, picked up his tankard, and tapped the rhythm of the song on the table with his fingertips. His companions were too far gone in drink themselves to notice that the level in his tankard did not go down for the rest of the evening.

Just before ten, he pushed back his chair and rose with feigned unsteadiness to his feet. “Good people . . . good friends . . . thank you for your hospitality, but I must seek my bed before ’tis much later. Your kindness overwhelms me, and Mistress Tilly, never have I eaten such a magnificent Christmas feast.” He stumbled across to her and kissed her heartily on both cheeks.

Tilly, deeply regretting her invitation and now anxious to see the back of him, said gruffly, “You’re welcome enough, but now you’d best get along with you before the hour grows much later. Even on Christmas night, the streets are not safe.”

“My thanks, mistress.” He wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and, with a final farewell wave, let himself out again into the yard. The fresh air this time merely increased his clarity, and he climbed the steps unerringly to the street above. It was dark, with only the faintest glimmer of a moon beneath scudding clouds, and the night smelled of snow.

The dark shapes of the trees and bushes in the park seemed menacing in their silent presence as he stepped through the narrow break in the screening shrubbery onto the thin gravel pathway within the park. Ari had said to meet her there, at the entrance. He wouldn’t miss her if he stood just inside the hedge. The lights of the palace across the park still blazed, and the sounds of music drifted over the canal. There were people still in the park, hurrying along the pathways, cloaked shapes moving along the canal, and Gabriel felt somewhat reassured. He stepped away from the shadow of the hedge to stand full square on the path, where he didn’t feel so isolated.

? ? ?

Ariadne toppled her king with her finger. “I resign, well played.”

Ivor frowned at the chessboard. “You didn’t have to resign. You could have played to a draw. Why didn’t you?”

“Could I?” She looked surprised. “I didn’t see how.” Her eyes darted to the clock on the mantel. It was almost ten o’clock.

“I’ll show you.” He righted her king and moved a couple of pieces. “This is where we were three moves ago.”

Ari controlled her impatience with difficulty. She remembered the position well enough, and she had chosen to bring the game to a rapid conclusion rather than a drawn-out endgame. But Ivor mustn’t know that. It would never occur to him that she would deliberately throw a game away in normal circumstances.

“If you had moved your bishop to rook four at this point, that would have prevented my check with my knight . . . like so.” He moved the piece and looked across at her for confirmation.

“Yes . . . yes, I see,” she said hastily. “I must not have been thinking clearly . . . oh, I think Juno needs to go out. I’ll just take her to the street for a moment.”

“Not alone, you won’t,” Ivor stated. “She doesn’t seem anxious to go out.” He looked down at the puppy, who was lying across his feet in perfect contentment, her rounded belly evidence of a good dinner.

“No, but she needs to. She’s not properly housebroken yet.” She got to her feet, bending to lift the puppy. “I’ll take her to the kitchen. One of the men can take her out.” Ivor let her go, busying himself with putting away the chess pieces. Whatever was wrong, he would find out soon enough. Ari had never been able to keep a secret from him, and he was beginning to think he’d been patient enough, waiting for her to confide in him.

Ariadne fetched her cloak and tied a ribbon around Juno’s neck, then took the backstairs to the kitchen, but instead of going out through the kitchen, she took a side door that opened into a narrow alley alongside the house.

She only dared to be away a few minutes this time and ran to the end of the alley, peering into the street. The light from the salon shone through a crack in the curtains, but she would only be visible to someone standing at the window, looking down. She ran across the street, Juno galloping at her heels, and slipped into the shadows between the hedges.

“Ari.” Gabriel sprang forward, sweeping her against him as she appeared on the path.

“Gabriel . . . Gabriel, no, please, let me go.” She pushed against him. “I haven’t many minutes, and there’s so much to say.”

“I don’t want to say anything, I just want to hold you.” Gabriel buried his mouth in her hair as he pressed her head against his chest. “Please, just let me hold you. It’s been so long.”

Ariadne pushed her head back and straightened upright. She spoke with desperate haste. “Gabriel, my dear, please. Listen to me. This has to be over between us.”

“No,” he exclaimed in a fierce undertone. “No, it cannot be. I came all this way to find you, Ari. We will go away together—”

“No. No, Gabriel, we will not.” She looked at him with desperation in her eyes. He had to understand. “Everything has changed. Oh, we can’t talk properly now. My husband will expect me back any minute. I will meet you here tomorrow morning, as agreed. Ivor will be attending the King’s morning audience, and I will explain everything then.”

She pressed her fingers against his lips and then was gone, a fleeing shadow through the gap in the hedge, leaving Gabriel wondering if she’d even been there at all. But he could feel the imprint of her body against him, and her fragrance lingered in the cold night air. She was no figment of his overwrought imagination.

She was real, in his world again. She could not mean what she had said. There was no way all could be over between them. He had come to find her, to take her away. Nothing must stand in their way. She just needed reminding of all they meant to each other. Her life was so different now, but she just needed reminding of their past. When he kissed her, when there was time for the long, languorous kisses they used to share, then she would remember.

? ? ?

Ivor heard Ari’s swift step outside the salon door, and then she came in, Juno at her heels. Her cheeks were pink, and her hair was escaping its pins.

“What have you been doing?”

“Oh, it’s cold and windy outside,” she said, bending to warm her hands at the fire. “I think there’s snow in the air. I decided to take Juno myself. I walked a little way with our neighbor’s boot boy. I thought that would be safe enough, and all our people are practically under the table now.”

“Well, you’re safe enough, obviously,” Ivor observed. “Although I would prefer you to have a rather more obvious bodyguard than a scrap of a lad. However, no harm’s done.” He stretched and yawned. “Let us to bed. I must attend the King in the morning.”

He moved around the room, snuffing the candles and tamping down the fire. “Go ahead and get ready. I’ll be along in a moment. I’ll just check that the doors are locked.”

Ari went into the bedchamber, carrying the puppy. The fire was low in the grate, and she threw fresh logs on it and drew the curtains at the windows. Ordinarily, Tilly or one of the maids would have already set the room ready for the night, but in the circumstances, it was not surprising that it hadn’t been done. She undressed and pulled her night shift over her head, then took out the little vial from the bottom of the drawer. She took a quick gulp, no longer bothering to measure it out by the spoonful, and screwed the stopper back in. The door opened behind her as she did so, and with careful, unhurried movements, she put the vial back into the drawer, smoothing undergarments over it.