Infamous Read Free Page B

visit Windsor. They must get soaking wet.”
    â€œI’ll show you, m’lady.” Mary led the way down another aisle. “They wear these cotton smocks that dry quickly.”
    Jory fingered the material. “Fascinating…I’ll take one.” She lowered her voice to a confidential tone. “When Princess Joanna is wed, she will first move to a splendid country manor house in Clerkenwell, near the Tower. The Earl of Gloucester has more castles and residences than any other noble. If you would like to be part of her household, I will recommend you, Mary.”
    â€œOh, thank you, my lady. I would love to serve the princess.”
    Jory tucked the garments she’d pilfered under her arm and winked at Mary. “Consider it done.”
    It wasn’t a great distance from the washhouse to Windsor’s bathhouse, which was located on the ground floor above the dungeons. The stone edifice was part of the outer wall on the Thames side, where water from the river was piped in and heated. The plan was copied from a system the ancient Romans had built in Britain centuries before.
    No lady ever ventured near this strictly male bastion where kings, princes, earls, barons, high-ranking clergy, and the men who held royal office had made their ablutions for over a century. Jory did not dare hesitate about what she intended or her courage would fail her. She had come this far and would not stop now. As she reached the arched entranceway, a cacophony of raised male voices, shouting, cursing, and laughing made her heart pound. She covered her hair with the linen headdress and slipped the cotton smock over her gown. It was such a voluminous garment that it almost drowned her. She gathered its folds about her and stepped inside. When she saw the size of the strapping bathhouse women, she understood why the smocks were so enormous.
    She peered through the veil of steam cautiously, realizing that many of the partly obscured figures were unclad males. A matron slapped a wooden tub of soft soap into her hands and pointed. “This is for Gloucester. Make haste!”
    She took one step and the woman bawled, “Take the salt.” Jory gripped the block of salt the woman thrust at her. “Salt?”
    â€œFor the earl’s teeth, ye gormless wench.”
    On what felt like stiff wooden legs, Jory staggered in the direction the matron had indicated and was relieved when a young squire with a Gloucester badge on his tunic took the items from her and passed them to a muscular female. When the squire stepped aside to fill a bucket with water, Jory was presented with an unimpeded view of the naked bridegroom lying full length in a white marble tub. The bathing wench slathered a handful of soft soap onto his chest and reached beneath the water, groping toward his private parts.
    Jory stared in amazement. Gilbert de Clare’s limbs displayed a few scars and his muscles were ropey and knotted from years of use, but he did not have the body of an old man. The hair on both his chest and head was sparse and grizzled, yet the features of his face were strong. Joanna, Gloucester is no lapdog!
    â€œRinse!” The order from the bath wench brought the bucket of water that the squire held pouring down upon the earl.
    De Clare gave a bark of laughter. “You’ll need more water than that to drown me, lad.”
    The strapping woman hauled up Gloucester’s leg and examined his foot. She looked at Jory and ordered, “Pumice stone.”
    A canvas curtain that hung beside the bathtub was drawn aside. A naked man rose up and stepped from his own marble tub. He handed the bath woman his pumice. “Take mine—I’m done.”
    Jory stood rooted to the spot and gaped. The male who stood resplendent before her was tall and powerfully built. His broad chest was covered by a pelt of wet black hair and his impossibly wide shoulders rippled with smooth, glistening muscle. Jory did not dare raise