Royal Mistress Read Free Page B

colors of an exotic eastern bazaar he had heard about on his travels to Burgundy. If Lambert’s daughter might inherit even a fourth of this, he thought, she would be worth taking under my roof. Then the familiar knot in his belly interfered with his mercenary thoughts; he had carefully avoided the unpleasant duty of husband for all of his eight and thirty years. However, when John had approached him about the possibility of marriage with his eldest daughter—together with a handsome dowry and the promise of inheritance—the temptation to add to his already burgeoning business was too great, and so he ignored his gut. As well, John Lambert had impressive credentials: he had once been elected as a city alderman, been appointed sheriff, and had once served as master of the mercers’ guild.
    And so, here William was to inspect the goods—all of them—and make a decision. He saw John examining a bill of lading and walked over to him.
    Jane had been helping an elderly matron and her reticent son choose a damask for the son’s presentation at court when she heard the door open and saw the middle-aged, lanky man enter the shop. His face would not set any maid’s heart aflutter, Jane thought, although he was pleasant-enough looking. She watchedas he went to speak to her father, his long hair limping damply to his shoulders from under his close-fitting cap, and she recognized the same mercer’s murrey livery that her father wore. She only half listened to her customer’s efforts to decide which patterned satin to choose and instead eyed the two men, who kept looking her way while in earnest conversation.
    “I think the brown, do you not, Mistress Lambert?” the woman asked, and Jane quickly refocused her attention on the sale. The son was gazing at Jane with admiration, and she gave him a quick smile. It never hurts a sale to flirt a little, she told herself, enjoying the male attention as she always did.
    “Aye, my lady, I believe the blue would inadvisedly draw all eyes to your son, and I hear the king does not like competition,” Jane said. As his mother turned to hold the fabric up to the light, Jane added with a wink, “Your good looks should garner you enough favor with the ladies, in truth.” The young man beamed at the compliment. “Now I shall have Matthew measure you, sir, and I thank you for your patronage.” She waved at the apprentice, watching at a discreet distance, who hurried to take charge.
    “Come here, daughter,” John Lambert called to her when he saw Jane was free. “I wish to present you to a fellow guild member, Master William Shore.”
    Jane had to look up a long way to her father’s friend. At a little under five feet, she was used to craning her neck to talk to men, but it seemed to Jane that Master Shore was uncommonly tall. He stared down at the comely young woman and was disconcerted by her unabashedly curious gaze. Had William been at all interested in women, he might have noticed the almond shape of those green-gray eyes, or the way her generous mouth appeared ready to laugh and how her nose came to an upswept end, making her look younger than her twenty-two years. Instead he cringed at her forthrightness as immodest and regarded her beauty as Satan’s bait. But as a businessman in search of an advantageous maritalmatch, he inclined his head graciously and gave a suitably agreeable response.
    Jane, unaware of the man’s disapproval—or indeed intent—began cheerfully enough: “Master Shore, I give you God’s greeting. Is your business with me or with my father?” Noting the man’s unusual disinterest in her looks, she became more businesslike. “I doubt not that I can help you find something, if that is what you have in mind, but you may have to wait if my present customer has a question of me.”
    “Certes, Master Shore’s business is with me, Jane,” John snapped. “Do not be impertinent.”
    “But, Father . . .” Jane said, indignant; after all, he had summoned