Chapter Eleven:
The Royal Warning
Whitehall Palace, London
Blair stared out the window, but kept a careful distance so that she would not get wet. They were back in London, with the wedding of the King and Catherine now so close. However, with London came its dreadful weather. It had done nothing but pour down rain since they'd arrived. The only thing that did change was the climate; it went from hot and humid rain to chilly and windy rain. She sighed, wondering when she would see the sunshine again. In France it always felt warm and wonderful. If she closed her eyes she could imagine herself there in that moment.
"So this is where you have been hiding, ma chérie?" Chuck mused, coming up and grabbing her from behind. He took hold of her waist, placing his lips at the start of her nape. With a trail of kisses up to her ear, he emitted a dark chuckle. "I've been searching the entire palace for you."
She smiled, turning her cheek to try and make eye contact, but his hold wouldn't let her. So she shook her head. "You are the Prince of England, your Highness. Surely you could have had me found instantly if you only asked."
His hand roamed down to curve her thigh, despite the vast amount of her dress's material intervening. "Yes, but it would not be as much fun that way. I enjoy hunting my prey," he informed her.
Blair rolled her eyes with a light laugh and then spun around. Quickly he pushed her back to the wall, placing both hands on each side of her. She looked up at him, touching his chest. "Well as much as it pains me, you will have to set me free shortly. I have a meeting with your soon to be stepmother," she told him.
His lips pursed instantly and his eyes looked elsewhere. "I do not want to hear you call her that any more than I want you reminding me what her fool of a son is to you," Chuck muttered. It was clear he held disdain for basically anything to do with Thomas, his mother, and their family entirely.
She pouted her lips to sympathize for him and brought her hands up to fix his collar. "I know, Darling. Forgive me?" she asked. Her brown eyes looked to his, much more doe-like than as per usual.
He stared at her for a few moments and then nodded slowly. With a sigh he brought up his hand and trailed it along the neckline of her dress. Only it shouldn't even have been called such. The red dress, embellished with a gold design, was one of her most low-cut gowns. It practically came mid-breast and at times when she moved he expected to catch a glance of nipple.
"See something you like?" Blair asked, her voice a faux mask of innocence. She grinned playfully, touching his hand, and bringing it to rake across her breasts fully. "I wore it for you, you know."
He gave her a classic look in return. "Well I would hope you're not dressing for anyone else, Blair. In fact, I forbid it." He smirked and kissed her breasts, nuzzling his nose in them. "Though I do love this particular gown," he admitted.
She couldn't help but beam at the compliment. Of course she tried to tell herself it was only because it truly was a prize coming from his lips. From what she had heard he had been with many women, but not once had he been known for praising them on their choice of dress.
Chuck lifted his face from her bosom and wove his hands down to hold her petite waist. "So, what it is it you shall be speaking with Catherine about?" he inquired, tone more formal than before.
Blair shook her head, lightly shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know. I see it most likely having to do with her upcoming wedding," she answered. In all honesty she hadn't thought about it much, nor did she particularly care to.
"Well, do your best not to let anything slip. Hold your head high—" He lightly pushed up her chin. "And do not reveal your loathing of her son. But do not praise him too much either. I do not wish to hear of one of her maids telling that you proclaimed your love for that halfwit."
She gave him a knowing look. "You mean you do not wish to hear of gossip circulating your court, telling that I am… how you say, fond of him?" She let her accent show through rather thick towards the end, purposely teasing him.
Chuck's lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. He grabbed hold of both her arms, pulling her up against him. "And are you fond of him, Blair?" he asked, loud and clear.
Blair gasped, frightened at first, but then flattered. He was jealous and she would not deny that she liked it. She giggled, "You know the answer to your question, your Highness."
"Regardless, I command you answer it for me now," Chuck retorted. He spoke through clenched teeth. He wanted to be assured that she didn't like Thomas, not even as a friend. He wanted her to hate his soon to be stepbrother as much as he did, perhaps even more than he did, if it were possible.
"Fine," she sighed and shook her head, "I am not at all fond of him. I detest him in actuality. Satisfied?" Her tone was quite snippy towards the end.
He let go of her and nodded briefly. "Yes, though I would prefer you not be so smart with me," he returned. Though he said it, clearly he wasn't ordering it. For some strange reason, he allowed it to be just a suggestion for Blair—and it was one he knew she wouldn't likely take.
She pushed herself off the wall, placing her hands on her hips. "I shall consider it with the upmost thought, your Highness." She then kinked her head down the hall. "But may I go now? I do not want to be late, as it could be cause for suspicion."
He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Perhaps if you were a man, but with my experience tardiness is something I find common in women."
Blair scoffed, "I am going." She then started to walk away from him, but felt him grab her once more. He pulled her swiftly back into his arms. "Wh—what?" She was evidently cut off guard, staring straight into his eyes. Their faces were mere inches apart.
Chuck smirked, bringing up his hand, and stroking his thumb down her cheek. Then he leaned in and kissed her strongly on the lips. "Now you may go, Sweetheart," he breathed as he broke away.
She stumbled back as he released her, grabbing onto the wall for a moment. How had she been so unready for that? She watched him chuckle to himself and walk away. Why could she not simply do the same? She furrowed her brow, crossed her arms, and started to slowly advance down the corridor. So many questions passed through her mind, but one stood out among the rest. Why did she still feel him on her lips?
XOXOXOXOXO
Bart released a deep, powerful breath. He stared down at his hand, clenching the arm of his throne. The wedding, between him and Catherine, was merely days away and he had not seen a moment of rest. There were so many things to tend to, duties to perform. His son had never been of much help, but lately he wasn't even reachable. He was always off, somewhere in the shadows where no one could seem to find him. And Bart was not a fool to know he didn't venture to those dark places alone. There was gossip at Court and it had finally reached the ears of the King.
"You were looking for me, father?" Chuck asked loudly, coming into the room. He looked back to see the doors close behind him. It was an unusual scene. Typically at this time of day the throne room was filled with people, but now only he and his father stood there.
"Try that greeting again, Chuck," Bart sighed. He wiped at the sweat on his brow and shook his head. The castle was cold, outside a windy rain, but he felt like he was burning up. It must have been from the lack of sleep.
Chuck rolled his eyes, but stood up straight and nodded his head. "You called on me, your Majesty?" He corrected himself with a bow before the throne.
His father poured himself a glass of wine and held out one to his son. Once Chuck had taken it, he took a small drink to clear his throat. "I believe you need a good talking to before this marriage takes place. It has come to my attention—"
"You mean your royal spies have once again whispered in your ear," Chuck interrupted, narrowing his eyes. He shook his head. "Or was it that god awful woman you'll be—"
"Hold your tongue!" Bart shouted, staring down at him. He breathed heavily, patting the arm of his chair. "I will not have you constantly speaking out of turn! I did not raise you that way."
Chuck scoffed, "You didn't raise me at all." His eyes fell from his father's. All he could think about was how he wanted off of this subject, away from this room. He wanted to get back to Blair. She always distracted him from the darkness that constantly loomed around him in his own mind.
Bart's face fell, having heard the comment. He stood up, walking over to his son and touching his shoulder. "We have been over this. You were raised the way you were to ensure that you stand here today."
"Perhaps there was a reason I was a sickly child." Chuck looked up at him. "Some would have thought it an eye for an eye, you know. I was a sickly child for a reason. It was vengeance for what I did to her—"
A solemn and miserably enlightened look came to the Bart's face. His hold on Chuck's shoulder tightened as he squeezed it. "I won't have you speaking that way. Your moth—the late Queen—"
"I don't want to hear any more of this!" Chuck rejected, pulling away from him. He didn't need the pity his father was forcing himself to feel. He turned his back, pretending to look out the window. "Just tell me what you brought me here to say, your Majesty."
Bart stared at his son's back for a few moments. A part of him wanted to further reach out to him, but he just couldn't do it. He could never do it really, not since he grew up looking like his mother. He sighed and sat back down in his throne, staring at the ceiling. "The people expect a certain behavior from you, Charles."
Chuck shook his head. "I know my reputation, father…as do you. It is what they expect. They know that I gamble, drink, fraternize with the women at court—"
"Not ones engaged to be married, to a future Royal no less. You are protected because of your blood my son, but others may not be if your actions put them in harm's way," Bart reminded him. He stared at his son's back sternly, wanting desperately to get his point across and for just this once his son to listen.
Dark eyes narrowed and Chuck spun around to look at him. "Has someone made a threat known? Has someone of any importance breathed a word? And by that I do unfortunately mean that weakling Thomas," he spat.
"Do not speak of a future Prince of England that way, a future brother," Bart warned. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "And no, not yet. But that is only because he is good hearted."
Chuck obviously and blatantly rolled his eyes. "And where will that get him? Look if this is about Lady Blair I am allowed to spend time with anyone I want. I am the Prince of England, the true one, by blood. You surely cannot deny that, father," he told him, getting quite worked up.
Bart pointed a finger at him, lifting his eyebrows. "It is not that you spend time with her, but how people see you treat her, speak to her, touch her—"
"They know nothing! They only find confusion because she's the first woman they've seen me respect to some degree," Chuck retorted. It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either.
"And that is not like you. The people have come to accept your behavior Charles and they will even accept thinking you are doing something unholy with Lady Blair, but they will shun and hate her for it. Most of them already do. You know that," Bart maintained, standing up.
"Who?" Chuck demanded. He threw his hand out, motioning to the doors. "Tell me who dares to hate her, who shuns her? And tell me why! Why if she is about to be a daughter of England—"
"Because she is a true daughter of France. She is French, Charles. Our people, at least most of them, do not look kindly on them. If I recall, you didn't exactly either before she got here." It was an obvious challenging statement made by father, to son.
Chuck retracted some, both in step and in expression. He shook his head. "If you won't do your duty as King to make them respect her, I will. All she has done is bring a little culture to this Kingdom. She does not preach of their politics or refuse to speak English. She has done nothing wrong—"
"I hope so, as do I hope they will see that," Bart said quietly. He looked down, fisting his hand, and nodding his head. "If she is anything like her father—" He stopped himself, looking up to see if his son had heard him. When he knew he didn't, he pushed away the thought.
"May I go now, your Majesty?" Chuck was tired of the conversation. It was evident both by the look in his eyes, his posture, and the tone of his voice.
"Shortly," Bart agreed. He then moved forward in his seat, taking a scroll from a side table. "This contains the information about a trip I shall take with Duchess Gray and Thomas after we are married. I will need you to stay here, keep things settled at Court. You won't have to make any decisions, unless they are urgent and I cannot be reached in time," he explained, holding it out for his son.
Chuck took it, opening up the papers, and looking them over. Then he looked up from them, doing all he could not to smile. "Lady Blair isn't going, is she?" he asked. He knew it said a lot, probably too much, but he didn't care. He only wanted a confirmation.
Bart sighed, shaking his head. "Cardinal Wolsey has told me it would not be decent, considering they will not yet be married."
"I agree," Chuck replied with a smirk.
"Do not forget what we have spoken of, the consequences that could come you will not like if you allow yourself to forget," Bart warned, giving him a serious look.
"Of course, father," Chuck replied, paying little attention, as he bowed his head. He then tucked the scroll into his black overcoat and left the room. He thought not of his father's warning, but only that sometime soon he would be alone with Blair, no one of a greater power around to watch them.
XOXOXOXOXO
"Your Grace, Lady Blair has arrived. Shall I bring her in?" a servant girl asked Catherine. She kept her eyes on the ground, at the woman's feet.
"Yes, please do," Catherine responded. She then turned around, sitting on a bench at the end of her bed. She pulled at her black dress, adjusting it.
The doors opened and Blair entered. She looked around the dark, solemn room. There was a fire lit, but this part of the castle seemed mustier than the side she resided on. She looked ahead and saw Catherine. Sparing a small bow, she stood in the center of the room. "Duchess of Somerset."
Catherine eyed the younger girl carefully, before holding up her hand. She motioned for her to come closer. "Sit, Lady Blair," she instructed.
Blair looked around, pursing her lips when she realized there were no other chairs. If Chuck had been around she would have commented, but since he was not she merely kneeled before the Duchess, on the ground.
"Your dress Lady Blair, the neckline is quite low," Catherine commented. Her eyebrows rose, giving off an expression of disproval.
"It was a special gift, your Grace. I could not insult his Royal Highness by not wearing it," Blair returned. She met the older woman's eyes with caution, but dignity.
Catherine shook her head, but spoke in an almost pessimistic way. "No, I suppose you would not want to do that." She then sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "Tell me, why have you not spent more time with my son, your future husband? I have heard he asks for you all the time."
Blair stared at her for a few moments before shaking her head. "I would like to fully get to know him after the wedding, your Grace. Is he unhappy with me about it though?" She picked the question and her words carefully, knowing Catherine could not get around them without lying.
"No. He never speaks of being unhappy with you," Catherine remarked.
"Does it upset you that he is not unhappy with me, your Grace?" Blair asked point blank. Her eyebrows rose and she smiled in a way that showed she was indeed being condescending in her question.
The Duchess's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She didn't respond to the question, but leaned forward. "You know, I must admit you remind me of someone. Would you like to know who?"
Blair shrugged, "If you wish to tell me, you may." She leaned back, not liking this woman so close to her.
Catherine stood, nodding her head, and circling around Blair. She stopped at the fire, holding onto the mantle, and staring into the flames. "You remind me of my late husband's mistress. She was French too."
"Your late husband's mistress?" Blair spat, turning to look at her. She shook her head. "I thought you were a friend of France—"
"I am for those in France who wish to be my friend," Catherine countered shortly. She then walked over, staring directly down at the younger girl. "And I would very much like my daughter-in-law to be my friend, but I am my son's mother first. Do you understand?"
Blair did, but she was not going to give Catherine that pleasure. She shook her head, looking right up at her. "Non. Je ne comprend pas ce que vous voulez me dire, votre Gråce." (English Translation: No. I do not understand what you mean, your Grace)
Catherine's eyes narrowed into slits and she grabbed hold of Blair's cheek. She forced the girl to hold her gaze with her. "Then let me make sure you understand this. "Tu ne porteras pas Malheur a mon fils et tu ne feras pas passer mon fils pour un idiot," she warned. (English Translation: You will not bring shame to my son's name, nor will you make a fool of him") Then she let go of Blair and stood back up fully, walking towards the bed.
She waited a few moments and then Blair rose. She walked back to the door, but stopped and turned to look at Catherine one last time. "Les homes n'ont pas besoin de nous pour ce render idiot. Bonne soireé, votre Gråce." (English Translation: Men make fools of themselves. Good evening, your Grace.) With that she simply bowed her head and left. And once out of the room she couldn't hide the smirk that formed from the last look on Catherine's face.
XOXOXOXOXO
Chuck's dark eyes eyed the quivering servant girl. She was on her knees, before him. Her body was trembling and if he stopped pacing he could hear her small whimpers instead of his footsteps. He stopped in front of her, leaning down, and pushing up her chin. Their eyes met.
"Your—your Highness," the girl quivered, eyes filling with tears. She was terrified, that was evident.
He let go of her and reached into his pocket, retrieving a small sack of gold. It dropped at her feet and he was now met with a look of confusion. "I wouldn't pay you for that," Chuck remarked. He stood once more, shaking his head with a dark chuckle. "No, there is something else I want from you."
The girl reached out, taking the small bag and bringing it to her chest. "Wh—what do you need from me, your Highness?" she questioned. The money would take her entire family out of debt.
Chuck of course knew this and in that knew she would do whatever to keep it. He sat down on his bed. "You are a maid to the Duchess of Somerset. She met with Lady Blair today. What did she say to her?"
Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat. "I—I could be punished for betraying my Lady, your Highness—"
"It won't leave this room, but if you want your money you will tell me. And may God help you if you refuse," Chuck warned. He made it clear she would either benefit from giving her answer or suffer from withholding one.
The girl nodded, instantly understanding. Her eyes fell to the ground in shame. "Her Grace was warning the Lady Blair. She bids her not to shame her son or make a fool of him. She also insulted her dress," she revealed.
"Her dress?" Chuck returned loudly. He stopped himself though, shaking his head. He knew anything anyone said would not change Blair's sense of style, but him. So he moved on to more important matters. "How did Lady Blair respond to the Duchess's warning?"
"She—she told her something in French. I—I do not know the language though so I do not understand it, your Highness. I am so sorry," the servant apologized quickly. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she wouldn't be surprised if he struck her.
Chuck didn't do that, but instead made a noise of frustration. He stood, shaking his head. "Do you remember the words? Any of them? Could you repeat them?" he interrogated.
The girl's chest heaved up and down from her heavy breathing. She nodded her head. "I—I believe she said this, your Highness. Les homes n'ont pas besoin de nous pour ce render idiot. Bonne soireé, votre Gråce." (English Translation: Men make fools of themselves. Good evening, your Grace.) It sounded terrible and struggled from the girl's lips, but it was technically correct.
He stopped, smirking to himself. Then he laughed, shaking his head. "You may go. Take your reward and speak of this to no one," he ordered.
"Ye-yes, your Highness. Thank you," the girl bowed and scampered from the room. However, the heavy door did not shut behind her. He didn't notice it, but a hand caught hold of it.
Blair entered the room, glaring at him. "Who was she?" she asked, her tone begrudging. She came up behind him, the door now fully slamming.
Chuck turned around, taken off guard by her abrupt entrance. When he saw her though, he instantly smiled until he saw the look of jealousy in her eyes. He realized then what she thought. "Surely you do not think I would take that," he held out his hands to her, "When I have this."
She stopped, not going into his arms, but staying at a good distance. She couldn't help the envious feeling in her gut. What had he done with that harlot of a servant girl? Why was she in his room? Wasn't he happy with her?
He saw the thoughts swarming through her mind by the look on her face. Swiftly, he went to her, bringing her into his arms fully. "Don't, Sweetheart. I was questioning her about you and Catherine. It was nothing more than that. Look at me, I'm fully dressed," he assured her.
Blair eyed him up and down quickly before realizing what he said was true. She sighed, looping her arms around his neck. "You could have merely asked me," she sighed with a pout.
He tucked a curl behind her ear before positioning his hands on her waist. "I did not know if you could be truthful with me about it. And I didn't want to trouble you," he explained.
She rolled her eyes. "I will always be truthful with you. No one, especially Catherine, will change that, Chuck," she swore.
Chuck smirked, feeling obvious accomplishment from her words. He brought his hand back up to her cheek, caressing it before leaning forward and pecking her lips. "Good. I like knowing I have someone I can trust."
"You do trust me?" Blair asked, looking deep into his eyes. It was what she intended to accomplish from the start, but not so soon.
"Don't you trust me?" Chuck returned, both answering her question and asking his. He shook his head with a light chuckle. "And I don't hold the petty jealousy against you."
"I wasn't jealous," Blair maintained instantly. Slowly her pursed ruby lips unclenched and formed a smile. "And I do trust you. In that particular situation it is only that I mistrust others."
He smirked, "As more than often we're the same, Sweetheart. Remember that." He pulled back from whispering in her ear and kissed her lips once more.
"The wedding is soon," she breathed. She leaned against him, her forehead touching his. Her eyes were closed as she contemplated that thought and his words. "Catherine will be Queen and Thomas a Prince."
He grabbed onto her arms tighter. "I am the only Royal you have to concern yourself with, Blair," he informed her.
She nodded, but looked up at him. "After this wedding you know they shall start planning another." It was another step in her plan, not letting him forget she was still to be married to Thomas. She wanted it to aggravate him.
His eyes darkened and his hold on her tightened. "I don't want to talk about that," he said, voice tense. He had not unleashed his anger, but it was evident inside he was starting to boil.
"I do not mean to speak out of turn, your Highness. I am only worried about how I shall be expected to behave as things draw closer. You know I shall have to be escorted by Thomas for this wedding—"
"I don't care!" Chuck snapped. His eyes lit up like fire, looking half crazed. "You may have to walk by him, dancing with him once, but the entire time I will have no second thoughts about who you belong to." His hands touched his chest as he breathed heavily, having excited himself.
"You," she breathed.
He nodded, touching one hand to her cheek and the other on the small of her back. He pulled her up against him. "If I am going to be faithful to you, everyone else will know you are faithful to me."
"With my mind, body, and soul," Blair promised. She then closed her eyes as he leaned in, kissing her strongly and possessively on the lips.
XOXOXOXOXO
A/N: The next chapter will be Bart and Catherine's wedding. Perhaps a little jealousy from the Prince as well? Who knows, wait and see. Anyways, a special thanks to both my beta and my translator for helping me get this chapter out. I couldn't do it without, you guys! Also if something is not translated directly then it has been translated so that it has a similar meaning of what the English translation is trying to get across. So just keep that in mind!