A thought struck him. Had he misinterpreted Laura’s reaction to his appearance alongside Lord Benton? “Your Majesty, may I ask if Lady Laura requested I be among her suitors?”
“You may. The answer is nay. We determined the man she once loved, who is much in need of a wife and funds, to be a good prospect. And this we tell you in confidence—she was distressed to discover you are among our choices.”
“One would not know it from her behavior last eve.”
“Indeed. She performed better than expected.”
“Performed?”
“We insisted she charm all her suitors. And so she did, though we think it likely she intentionally offended you in hopes you would stand before us this day resolved to working yourself to death rather than take her to wife.”
Eleanor was not uninformed. Somehow she had learned of the extent to which he went to return Lexeter to prosperity. He nearly looked to hands he had soaked for hours to remove grime from pores and beneath nails. But the long hours and days out of doors laboring alongside commoners was etched in his face. No amount of soaking would wash away those lines. And unlike King Henry, whose face had given its youth to the sun, wind, and rain, Lothaire had no reason to spend so much time in the saddle.
“Have you any other question, Lord Soames?”
“Forgive me, but considering the lady’s past, I am surprised you claim kinship. More, that you are willing to gift her a dowry sizable enough to tempt a nobleman to wed her.”
“A dowry,” Eleanor mused. “We suppose it is that.”
Suppose? Lothaire did not have to think long to unriddle her words. The answer was in the question put to him upon her entrance. “Tax relief. That is what you offer the one who takes her to wife.”
“We have discussed Lady Laura’s situation with our lord husband, and he agrees a reduction in taxes to half for a period of three years is generous compensation.”
It was generous, but though it would allow him to make great strides in restoring Lexeter, he would make those strides without the lady and her daughter ever a barb beneath his skin.
“Though tempted, Your Majesty, I must decline and request permission to leave court.”
She pursed her lips and considered him through narrowed lids. “Reconsider, Lord Soames. And in doing so, know you stand the greatest chance of winning the lady’s hand.”
He had to ask. “Why me? From what you have told, she does not wish me for a husband.”
“She has no say. If she wants a home for her daughter and her, we shall determine whose home that is. As time and again we must make clear to our subjects, we know best what they require.”
He wanted to argue, but it would be futile. “Your Majesty, respectfully I decline marriage to Lady Laura and request my leave-taking.”
Her nostrils flared, detracting from her carefully constructed elegance, then she sighed. “You may leave Windsor.”
He bowed, and she stepped aside to allow him to pass.
“Lord Soames.”
One foot over the threshold, he turned. “Your Majesty?”
“You may not believe this, but we like you. Hence, we are compelled to share that to which few are privy. A great honor, we assure you.”
He tensed, certain here was how she meant to slip a noose over his head.
“As you know, now the king and queen are returned to England, those things made wrong in our absence are being made right.”
He knew it. For this, her husband was absent from Windsor, traveling the length and breadth of England to assess his long-neglected kingdom and make his presence felt.
“Unfortunately, that requires much revenue.”
The noose dropped past his ears.
“There will be more taxes, Lord Soames, and we worry you will not be able to pay them.”
He would. Somehow. He would not lose his family’s lands.
“You are certain you do not wish to reconsider?”
She was conniving. Had he agreed to be a suitor, much of the tax relief gained in wedding Lady Laura would be lost to these new taxes she would not have mentioned. However, if he continued to put in long hours on the land, the tax relief would offset the taxes to come.
Nay, somehow he would save Lexeter without shackling himself to the one who had betrayed him. Somehow.
For all his certainty, the noose that had descended to his shoulders tightened. Imagining the rough knot abrading his throat, he breathed deep against the constriction. Finding too little air to sustain him, let alone Lexeter, he grudgingly accepted the queen had him—that Lady Laura was his somehow. But if Eleanor wanted him badly enough for her relation that she made him privy to what would cause great unrest among the landholders, he had her.
“As proposed, a three-year reduction in taxes,” he said. “And during that time, Lexeter is exempt from all new taxes.”
She was slow to respond, but when she did, it was with little censure. “Lord Soames, do you seek to cause a rift between our lord husband and us?”
“I do not. That is but the price of the sacrifice of my happiness.”
“Ah, but you are not happy. Thus, if we determine you are, indeed, best for Lady Laura and her daughter, your loss is not as substantial as you would have us believe.”
“Call it what you will, Your Majesty, I count it a great price. We are in agreement?”
She inclined her head. “Your task, Lord Soames, is to show us you can be kind to Lady Laura so we are assured she and her daughter are welcome upon Lexeter.”
Kind? Lothaire mused. Tolerant would have to suffice. And even that would be difficult.
“Do you win Lady Laura’s hand, we think it best you remove your mother to one of your lesser castles. Are we in agreement?”
Raisa Soames would rage, but Lothaire needed none to tell him that, as unpleasant as it would be to live out his days with a Jezebel, far worse it would be with his mother between them. “Agreed, Your Majesty.”
She smiled, further proof that, despite advancing age, she remained a beautiful woman. “Now to convince Lady Laura you are the best fit. Not that it is her decision, but we would give her hope for her future and her daughter’s. Go to her Lord Soames.”
He stiffened. “Now?”
“We told her we would send one of her suitors to her in the garden. That suitor is you.”
He who should be spurring away from Windsor. He who might do so at the end of the week in the company of the woman who should have remained cast off.
“I shall seek her there, Your Majesty.”
“And you shall be kind, Lord Soames. Most kind.”
Lord Benton? Lord Gadot? Or Lord Thierry?
Not that it mattered. Laura wanted none of them. All she required was a home and protection, and she would not feel guilty for it. Certes, none of them truly wanted her, and they would not feel guilty over the funds she brought to the arrangement—nor her body that they could do with as they pleased.
She shuddered. Outside of Clarice, that last was everything. How was she to bear it?
The dark would make it more tolerable, would hide the revulsion of being intimate with one other than—