Lord of the Abbey (35 page)

“
You are sorely needed here, my friend!” Harry beamed.

Rowena was amazed at the size of the man. He was bigger than even Wyldhurst. He had a head full of black, unruly curls. She noticed the bright, brilliant blue of his eyes even from where she stood. It appeared this man was hewn from the gray granite of Cornwall, for even beneath his layers of clothing it was evident that his body was solid muscle.

“
You can always count on the Cornish!” Micah said as he turned to greet some of the other men.

“
Damn straight.” The man who was obviously Trevan Chynoweth then quickly apologized when he saw Rowena waiting patiently on the steps. “My apologies for my language, my Lady, I did not see you there.”

Rowena blushed as twenty something men noted her presence at once and proceeded to give her their gentlemanly nods or bows. “I take no offense, Your Grace.”
Thank heavens she remembered he was a Duke!
Though wearing the clothes of a gentleman, this man did not appear at first glance to be a Duke. He seemed much more earthy than other such grand gentlemen of his ilk. “We are very happy you’ve arrived. I welcome you all to Stonedown.” It was an awe inspiring sight to see so many able-bodied men, all rough-hewn, many of them large and muscled like the Duke, including the members of the Avalon society she was already acquainted with, in one place. Harry, Micah and Charlie looked more than a little relieved to receive reinforcements. Rowena felt much more at ease knowing Harry and his friends were not spread so thin.

Harry motioned for Rowena to join him. Rowena quickly came beside him and was given quick introduction to the new arrivals. She met Trevan Chynoweth, Duke of Penrose, his two brothers, Tristan and Tremayne; their cousins Julyan, August and Arthur Trevelyan; Gabriel Chynoweth, the Earl of St. Mabyn, and his brother, Thomas; and two fellow Cornishmen, Deveril Pendarves and Rheese Carlyon, who were all members of the Avalon Society. The others were all related to Trevan Chynoweth or his cousins by marriage or blood.

Quickly, Harry, Micah and Charlie relayed the seriousness of their current situation, including Lyon’s condition to Trevan and all his relatives gathered around them. Wyldhurst came out, to help with the explanations and informed them that Newt was also in residence but remained at his post on guard duty.

After the Cornish contingent were briefed, Harry began, “First, I need you Trevan, and eight of your men to escort myself, Micah and Rowena to the healing wells down the lane and then up to the tower on the Tor. The Avalon Society members can at once begin guard duty here at Stonedown. We’ve not had much sleep here these past few nights. Nine of the ten remaining relatives can stay at the Grange, and supervise the opening of the tunnel, guard the abbey grounds, and take over preparations for the Abbey Faire.” To them Harry instructed, “Take a meal at the Grange, get settled and I’ll be there after I come back from the Tor to go over everything with you.”

He continued, “I want one relative, whom Trevan will choose, to pretend to be a traveler and stay at the George and Pilgrim in the town. There are several people we are watching, and the six of us already here are now well known in the town. Micah will brief that person and give you a purse to pay for your stay there.”

Trevan began, “You said Elveston has not arrived? I wonder what happened to him. He didn’t have twenty relatives to gather, so he should be here by now.”

Harry nodded. He was hoping Elveston hadn’t fallen prey to mischief en route to Glastonbury. True, Harry sent Jack first to the Archbishop of Canterbury on a personal errand, but theoretically he should have arrived before Trevan.

Frances stepped out and informed the entire crowd that breakfast was being prepared and would be served within the half hour. She insisted they all stay, those going on to the Grange could leave after she fed them all a good meal. The stable lads emerged and took the Cornishmen’s horses.

Rowena returned to Lyon’s bedside, as did Micah and Charlie. They left Harry, Aunt Frances and Sir John to entertain the multitude of newly arrived guests. Doctor Price arrived. Other than the main cause of worry, the fever, he felt Lyon was doing decently. Doctor Price said the wound did not appear festered, but was still seeping some blood. Only time would tell. He instructed them to continue doing what they were doing, alert him to any change, and he planned to stop by the next morning. He assured them they would know within two days time if he was going to improve or decline in condition.

Three quarters of an hour later, Mrs. Brimble came into the parlour turned sick room with Harry on her heels. Harry bid them to come join the party for breakfast, while Mrs. Brimble watched their charge. Rowena was determined to stay with Lyon. Harry argued she should come eat as Lyon was now resting quieter. Rowena acquiesced, insisting that first she must go upstairs to at least pin up her hair.

“’
Tis not necessary, Rowena. All know you’ve been tending to Lyon since before dawn. None expect to see you dressed for social niceties.” Harry pulled her along toward the gallery which was the only space large enough left in Stonedown to feed such a large group. They now numbered around thirty. Micah and Charlie followed a few paces behind them.

“
I fear I look a fright!” she protested.

Harry smiled down at her. “Nonsense. You’ve never looked lovlier.” He winked at her.

She watched as his gaze became dark and intense. Tingled inside, knowing by the look in his eyes that he wanted her right now. And this morning, she was privileged to know exactly what he wanted to do to her. Of course, she blushed. She leaned closer. “You are only saying this because I think you are very proud of yourself this morning, my Lord,” she scolded in a whisper, so his ears alone could hear.

He brandished a wolfish grin. He whispered back, “Indeed, I
am
proud of myself, my Lady. I think I did a fine job of ravishing you in the wee hours this morning. You look quite sated, and very pleased.” He laughed when she playfully punched his arm. “Indeed, a fine job.” The grin remained on his face.

The party enjoyed their breakfast. They were about to leave the tables in the gallery when Hanford announced a rider just entered through the gates.

Harry and Micah jumped up from the table, running through the wide gallery toward the entry hall. Wyldhurst followed, pausing only long enough to grab a pistol from his bag left on the chair he sat in for his vigil upon the safe.

The twenty Cornishmen rose as did Charlie and Newt. They stood, waiting, seemingly surrounding the table where Rowena and her aunt and Sir John still sat wide-eyed. Charlie and Newt walked hurriedly to the end of the gallery, the thudding of their boot heels against the oak floor echoing in the long and now silent gallery. Both armed, they peered out into the hall.

“
It’s Elveston!” Charlie called, shoving his pistol back into his coat. “He’s wounded.”

Harry and Micah supported a tall, muscular man with dark wavy, brown hair between them. They carefully helped him onto the chaise before the massive, old fireplace. His face was bruised. His sleeve was stained with dried blood. He moved stiffly, as if his ribs were sore.

“
Where do you hurt, sir? What can I get for you?” Rowena inquired with concern as she approached him. She looked into the man’s dark eyes, her braid falling over her shoulder as she bent toward him so she might access his injuries better.

Lord Elveston grinned upon seeing such a lovely lady, mischief twinkling in his brown eyes as he assessed the beauty before him. He appeared to be about to speak until Harry’s warning glare stopped him. He closed his mouth. Smiled sheepishly at Rowena.

“
Lady Rowena Locke, meet Jonathan, “Jack”, Drayton, Lord Elveston.” Micah made the introduction as he looked meaningfully at Elveston.

Elveston suppressed his colorful remarks he was about to make to the lady that had something to do with angels and wishes fulfilled. Now he knew the Lady’s identity he said instead, “I need to clean the wound on my arm, my Lady, I was stabbed. The rest are cuts and bruises from the beating I took from Dalworth’s men. A bath will help that, and mayhap also my bruised ribs.”

“
Dalworth?” Rowena looked to Harry, her eyes wide with shock. Then she began to tremble. Noticeably.

Harry held up his hand to silence Elveston.

“
Lady Rowena, come, sit here, on the settee with your aunt.” Micah gently took her arm, helped her to be seated. “Are you comfortable?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. Her trembling began again.

“
Lady Rowena, Lady Sperring, do you want to hear this?” Harry inquired softly. His eyes were full of concern as they rested on his Angel.

“
Y-yes,” Rowena agreed. Frances nodded in the affirmative also. She took her nieces’s hand in hers and patted it. She raised her chin in determination.

“
Would you prefer Lord Elveston speak to a small party of us privately than to our full company?” Harry’s gentle gaze still rested on Rowena.

She shook her head. “Everyone is here to help us, Harry. Let us all hear what he has to say.” Rowena raised her eyes to meet Harry’s. She took a deep breath. Lifted her chin.

Harry nodded. Looked to Elveston. “Go on, Jack.”

Before beginning, Elveston looked from Harry to the beautiful lady. Nodded slightly as if understanding of the current situation sunk in. “Dalworth’s fourth wife died two weeks ago. From an unexplained fall down the stairs. I hung out in the tavern near his estate. Struck up several conversations with one of his chief henchmen. Got his man good and drunk two nights in a row.” Elveston looked nervously at Rowena then turned to Harry. “Seems Dalworth does have his sights set on Lady Rowena, Harry. Apparently he once coveted her in the past. It seems he feels the necessity to pay her back for some disfiguring wound she bestowed upon him.”

A loud gasp came from Aunt Frances.

Rowena looked confused. Then became angry. “Pay.
Me.
Back!
Pay me back
?” She stood. “He hurt
me
! I no doubt scratched him while I tried to get away, and I hit and kicked him while he…while he hurt me. I do not recall him bleeding. Or being disfigured. I remember tasting my own blood when he punched me in the face and split my lip open.
Pay me back?”
She sat back down, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, her cheeks reddened with fury. Then she whispered, “Excuse me, please, gentlemen. I apologize for my outburst.”

Harry’s jaw clenched. His hands balled into fists. He wanted to kill Dalworth at that moment. Swore that he would make that man pay for what he did to Rowena.

The room fell silent. The only sound made was a soft, strangled cry sounding something like shock or astonishment. It came from Rowena’s aunt.

“
Oh, dear. Oh, John! We shall no longer be able to keep our secret, I fear,” Frances Phippen, Lady Sperring said softly, shaking her head. She rose. Wrung her hands nervously. Her face was pale, completely devoid of color. Yet, when she looked at Rowena, some of her color returned as did some of her strength. She squared her shoulders.

John looked lovingly at Frances. “It’s all right, my dear. These gentlemen will understand, I’m certain. Permit me, Frances.” John helped his Lady back to the settee, where she sat next to her niece once again. “You see gentlemen, Lady Rowena,” Sir John paused to pat Rowena’s shoulder tenderly, “several days after Frances removed Rowena from her brother’s house, following the horrible incident Lady Rowena endured, and the quashing of Heathcote’s attempt to force Rowena into marriage, Dalworth, himself, came to Winstone House in London.”

Sir John sighed heavily and continued, “Dalworth said simply, because he ruined Lady Rowena, she was his, and he would take her from us that day. That he’d not give her up. The whole fiasco was arranged by him and her brother. Heathcote’s logic was simply if Rowena were ruined, she would be forced to marry Dalworth. She refused to wed him before that. Her own brother allowed Dalworth to force himself upon her, and remained deaf to our poor Rowena’s cries for help. Dalworth boasted to us that Heathcote awaited him in the next room. That he shared a celebratory brandy with him afterward.”

Sir John looked to Rowena and Frances and went on. “Rowena was upstairs sleeping in her chamber that day when Dalworth arrived to Winstone House. She suffered nightmares for many months after the, ah, incident and slept very little, as one can certainly understand. I apologize to you now, Lady Rowena, but that morning we put a tiny amount of laudanum in your tea to help you rest, for we were vastly worried regarding your lack of sleep at night. We only did so for about a week, until you appeared more rested. Frances feared you’d waste away to nothing and become ill, for if you recall my dear, you ate very little then. I feared the same which is why I allowed it to be done.”