Dancing the Maypole Read Online Free PDF

her. Peter’s tempting burden was gently removed from his
shoulder, plied with smelling salts and bundled sobbing into the
carriage. Peter was absorbed in trying to glimpse the crying woman
when something crushed his right foot. Looking down Peter was spat
in the eye.
    “You’ll be
hearing from my father. God help you if he thinks you’re sane!”
Louis de Bourbon sneered up in disgust and then turned away to
climb into the carriage, sitting opposite the two women.
    Peter sensed an
emotional noose hanging above his head as he waited for the maid to
move so he could see the deathly pale cheek he’d kissed in
countless dreams one last time.
    “Isabel!” said
Louis. “This is real life, not one of your silly novels. Do you
want that big vache to think you regret becoming his bolster? Take
us away from this…empty tea caddy.”
    Peter’s flesh
chilled as the woman’s name settled into his brain. He’d always
called his dream lover Ma Belle. He’d always assumed he was calling
her his beauty, but if the woman was named Isabel… How could he
dream about a woman without any memory of meeting her? The thought
made his chest ache. He needed answers. He needed to hold her, but
he’d never hold her again. He stood there watching until the
entourage turned south onto the road through Adderbury; thundering
hooves condemned him to the hell of unanswered questions.
    Heartsick,
Peter turned to find his sons behind him looking in disappointment
at the empty road. “See what you’ve done?” They turned to look at
him as if he was a two-headed calf. “Thanks to you, I won’t need a
wife. Your meddling will now get me k-k-killed by that maypole’s
father.”
    “It’s not our
fault you…” Cosmo looked away without finishing his protest.
    “My death will
at least ease the embarrassment of the young woman I was courting.
A young woman who returned my regard until she was informed of your
advertisement when…” Peter’s voice rose to a roar. “She wouldn’t
even look at me!” His sons looked suitably chagrined. “You’ve
ruined any p-p-possible hope of happiness or at the very least a
sane body to warm my bed. You will not get a penny from me for the
rest of the year. Comprends?”
    Cosmo gasped in
horror, “That’s not faire! It was Cecil and George’s idea, and they
have their own incomes. You can’t punish me just because I was born
a year after Charles.”
    “I wasn’t
finished. Cecil, George, Charles…my carriage will take you to your
respective properties where you may help your tenants and
neighbours. I don’t want to see you until Christmas.” Five pale
faces stared back at him as if he’d announced that three of them
would be shot at dawn.
    Swivelling on
his heel, Peter walked away haunted by the memory of holding his
dying father’s hand and promising that he’d be a good man. He’d
failed to keep his word again; even bedding his chamber maid four
months before he could legally marry her hadn’t made him feel so
wicked as banishing his sons. Numbly reaching the stairs, he
dragged his tired legs to the first floor landing and down the hall
to his chamber. Locking his door he collapsed into the solitary
chair by his fire and pressed his face into his dusty black sleeve
knowing the morning wouldn’t bring relief. Underneath the
suffocating emptiness in his chest something had been broken.

    *

    Peter was still
sitting in his chair an hour later when an insistent hand tapped on
the door. “Pierre Auguste…c’est ton Maman…ouvre la porte!” The
tapping resumed. “I need to speak with you, c’est très important!
Pierre?” Sighing in defeat Peter jumped to his feet and unlocked
the door for his mother, but kept his face turned away. “Your boys,
they love you. I am sure they were only trying to aid you.”
    “The helpful
wretches have ruined my life. No sane or d-decent woman will want
to marry me…”
    “That is not
true Pierre. The boys, they chose a few unfortunate words that