Page 7 of Retribution

She did. Lady Cleodora de Beaumont had excellent hearing. But she also had a fear of the man who controlled her entire life and the chance of a broken neck whilst running was worth, in her opinion, the risk. She’d disobeyed him once—only once—and he’d taken a strap to her buttocks. That had been enough to convince her never to disobey again and, fortunately for her, the spanking was the only time he’d ever touched her in anger, physically.

But that had been enough.

Clad in a silver silken robe with ermine trim, wearing a matching shift underneath it and silver slippers on her feet, Cleodora came to an unsteady halt outside of the audience chamber where two guards were waiting to announce her. She smoothed back her hair from her face, trying futilely to make it presentable, and gave the guards a nod. They were sympathetic with her, men she’d known since she’d come into the archbishop’s world, and men she considered her friends for the most part. But, truly, a Jewel of London had no friends.

Only admirers.

And predators.

The doors to the chamber opened.

“Ah,” the archbishop said the moment she set foot in the lavish chamber. “The Pearl has arrived. Come in, my dear.”

The Pearl.

That was Cleodora full identity—in a collection of jewels, considered the most beautiful and untouchable women in all of England, she was the Pearl. From the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, she was all shades of pale—hair that was so blonde it was white, skin that was porcelain and fragile, hands that were flawless and delicate. Whilst the other Jewels of London were women of fire and color—the Ruby with flaming hair, or the Sapphire with hair the color of a raven’s wing—Cleodora presented the image of an angel. In fact, the archbishop only permitted her to wear white or silver to lean into that image. Sometimes she was allowed to wear gold or pale blue, but rarely.

The Pearl must always look like a pearl.

Quickly, Cleodora moved into the chamber at his invitation, taking the seat at the table which he had indicated. He simply continued to eat, because the man liked to eat in the middle of the day, and today was a feast from the sea. Fish and other ocean-born delicacies were spread across the table in a display that was as decadent as it was shameful. No man should live to such excess, but Cambridge did. To Cleodora, the entire hall smelled like a rotten fishing boat. Still, she pretended to be glad to see him, glad to be at his table, just as she always did.

It wasn’t as if she had a choice.

But it was all an act.

Cleodora found herself looking at the archbishop as he stuffed clams or fish or something else white and moist into his mouth. She couldn’t really tell. His teeth were so rotten that he could only eat food that was soft. He was an exceedingly tall man, which gave him an air of intimidation, but he was as thin as a sapling. He had long, thin fingers, like twigs, and a long, thin face to match. But it was his eyes that caused the most consternation…

They were black.

Black and piercing, soulless and cold. He came from a family that had ruled by force and fear for five hundred years and that kind of heartlessness was bred into him. He’d told her once that his father had beaten him regularly, intending to make him strong, but all it had managed to do was cause him to seek another father who was kinder and more understanding—God. Surrendering his claim to the Gainsborough earldom had enraged his father, but it had given Cambridge some measure of peace, at least at first. His father could no longer order him about if his son was answerable only to the church.

That had been a strange conversation, long ago.

He was a strange man.

“I wish to speak with you about the feast tomorrow at Westminster,” he said, mouth full. “We have not spoken of it since last month and the time has finally arrived. I am told that the garment I commissioned for you is finally ready.”

“Oh?” Cleodora said, pretending to be interested. “I’d not heard the news.”

“It is,” he confirmed. “As fine as it should be and that will show the king of my status. Edward has not been in England for some time and things should be made clear to him. I want him to understand who has more love for his country than he has. Who has more… control.”

Cleodora was well aware of the message the archbishop wanted to send to Edward. It was true that Cambridge was the most powerful archbishop next to Canterbury, although some wondered if Cambridge’s sphere of influence exceeded that of Canterbury’s at times. Cambridge had the whole of Lincolnshire and Gainsborough behind him, and also Cheshire from his mother’s side. The man could control the entire middle section of England through his family tree and he knew it.

He wanted to make sure Edward knew it, too.

Like some weird power struggle, Cleodora knew how jealous Cambridge was of Edward. It was all he could speak of. Edward had been king for an entire year but was only now returning to his country, which peeved Cambridge to no end. When the king was away, Cambridge could rule his lands and hold his own court, which he had. As a prince of the church, he could very well do those things. It wasn’t love he had for his country, but greed. Henry had been too ill toward the end of his life to care, so Cambridge’s ambition had run unchecked. He couldn’t marry, but he could certainly take a mistress in the Pearl. There were strange goings-on afoot now that Edward was back. Cleodora could feel it.

And she didn’t like it one bit.

“I hope my new garment, and I, honor you greatly, my lord,” she said after a moment, unable to think of anything else to say. “Do you know the king, then? You’ve met him in the past? It seems as if he has been away from England ever so long.”

Cambridge nodded. “I have met him many times,” he said, shoving more food in his mouth and evidently unwilling to elaborate. “Tell me, my dear—are you looking forward to the feast?”

“Indeed I am, my lord,” Cleodora said because she knew that was what he wanted to hear. “You are generous to include me.”

He smiled, flashing those yellowed teeth. “Everyone wants to see the rare Pearl,” he said. “Your beauty is only meant for me and that is the way I like it, but today, I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it, my lord?”