Two weeks had passed since the marriage of the Queen of Scotland to the Dauphin of France. Two weeks since Lola had betrayed her friend and slept with Francis. Two weeks since she had awkwardly watched the consummation ritual between Mary and Francis. One week since her monthly bleeding should have arrived.
She found herself becoming more and more pious. She spent hours in the chapel on her knees begging God not to cause her the shame and misery of carrying the bastard child of the Dauphin of France. She found her faith slipping though, for in the mornings she found herself more often than not sick. She would unconsciously hold her stomach as she retched up whatever little bit of food she had managed to eat at breakfast. She had been lucky; no one had noticed her missed course or her sickness yet. However, she was wise enough to know that it was only a matter of time.
That's when Kenna walked into the chamber and noticed her wiping her mouth standing near the bucket where she had just finished being sick. Time is up, she thought.
"Are you well?" Kenna asked politely enough. But Lola knew that Kenna suspected what she had been up to the night before she rode into court with the Dauphin of France. She had insinuated as much.
"I am fine," she stated firmly, trying to make her voice command the steeliness she desired.
"You won't be for long," Kenna said quietly, knowingly.
Lola looked down and covered her eyes. She was surprised by the overwhelming emotion and the tears threatening to escape her eyes. This makes it real, she thought. "What am I to do?"
"You must tell Mary and Francis," Kenna said matter of factly. "He will help you retain your dignity through this, the way Henry did for Diane. And she will forgive you, in time. You must not keep this a secret. They will think that you might try to make a power play with your bastard prince. The court still has such a bad taste in their mouth about the most recent attempt on the throne made by a certain bastard prince."
She knows Kenna is right, but she can't. She just can't. She can't see a way to keep any of her dignity through this situation. She will be a woman scorned. She will have no prospects. She will have a bastard. She can't see how Mary will forgive her for consorting with her husband the night before their marriage. She also can't see how Francis can help her. He isn't king yet. Besides he hates bastard sons at the moment.
She must have lapsed into her thoughts for far too long, for Kenna has left by the time that she pulls her gaze from the window. She should go to Mary's chambers and play the dutiful lady in waiting, which she apparently is not. She should fight, for her friendship and for her place at court. She just can't bear to do so now.
She flees instead. She walks, with as much dignity as she can muster when all she wants to do is run, to the gardens. She walks throughout the gardens two or maybe three times; she's lost count. But before long she finds herself needing to sit down. She finds a bench and once more loses herself in her thoughts.
She blames her racing mind for her not knowing that she was being watched, for her not being careful of her surroundings and those observing her, and for allowing her hand to rest upon her stomach where her and Francis' child grew. He startled her when he approached. She wasn't expecting anyone to be in the gardens at this time of day, least likely of all him. He wasn't even supposed to be here at court.
"Hello, Lady Lola," he said as he calmly took his place beside her.
"Sebastian, what are you doing here?" she asked, clearly shocked to see him.
He smiles kindly. It reaches his eyes for the first time in two weeks. "I was having a conversation with Mary about my brother or his mother making an attempt on my life as I was being escorted away from the palace." He says this evenly, without the malice and betrayal that he feels. "And you, my lady, what are you doing in the gardens alone this morning?"
She hesitates. She is taking a moment to contemplate just how much he has seen. She doesn't realize it, but her hand flies automatically to her stomach again. She is instinctively protecting her young. Motherhood suits her, he thinks. She settles on a half-truth, "Thinking, Bash."
"Thinking about what, Lola?" he asks. He is pushing her. He is daring her to tell him the truth. He is daring her to trust him. He remembers that she responds to dares well. Once she stayed by his bed while he was on death's doorstep and read him Greek mythology when he had dared her to leave.
She looks down and away, "Personal matters, Sebastian." She is avoiding the truth. She can't look him in the eyes and lie. She has never been good at lying. She curses herself. How will I ever hide the truth from court if I can't even hide it from him, she thinks.
"Fine. I'll guess then," he responds. Then before she can make him stop, "I think you are contemplating how best to deal with carrying the bastard son of a dauphin."
Her head whips around and her hand flies to her stomach before she can stop it. "How dare you!?" she says indignant.
"Tell me I'm wrong," he replies simply. She looks away as the tears begin to fall.
She musters the courage to whisper, "You are not wrong." He smiles. To her credit she is quite strong, he thinks.
"Do you have a plan?"
She can't speak. If she is being honest, she can't believe that they're discussing this. She can't believe that he cares in the least. She can't believe that he is reacting so calmly. She can't believe that she just handed this bastard the ammunition he would need to ruin her Queen's marriage. She shakes her head.
He nods understandingly. "You need someone to claim the child. You cannot openly raise a bastard in this political climate." He is being honest, but it is not something that she hasn't thought before.
"What would you have me do?" she asks bitterly. "No man will take me knowing that I am damaged goods and no proper marriage could be arranged in time for them to not know."
He nods again. Then in a flash he is on his knees before her. "Marry me, Lady Lola?" he is asking but he is also offering.
She is taken aback and quite unsure of how to react. He knows he has shocked her, so he gives her a moment before he slips back up to the bench beside her and begins to explain. "You need legitimacy for your child. I'm more than willing to provide that. No one will doubt that I was untrue to my betrothed. When the child comes, my brother and I share enough features and lineage that no one will doubt the parentage."
She interrupts him with, "I understand why this is an excellent deal for me, but why does this make any sense for you?"
He smirks. "I like the way you think, always trying to get to the bottom of people's motivations. I would say I care for you, and it would be true. But you would know that that isn't enough. So, honestly, I'm not exactly the most welcome person at court at the moment. Marrying you would change that for me. I would be seen as much less of a threat married to one of the Scottish queen's ladies. I could come home. And lest you think I haven't thought this through, when you return to Scotland I will have a home with your family and land. I stand to have nothing here."
She nods understanding and accepting his motivations. "We will have to ask permission from the regents."
He nods. "Or we could elope and ask for forgiveness later."
She shakes her head. He should have known that she would want to do this, like all things, the proper way. "Alright," he resigns himself. "I am not above kneeling before my brother and asking his permission to solve his problem." There is a bitter tinge to his voice, but she understands it.
"Tomorrow?" she asks. He nods.