Lord of the Manor (5 page)

“Ah, but will he, Sire?” came a male voice. “Basil’s tainted blood flows in the boy, and surely blood will tell.”

Lucinda glanced in the speaker’s direction. A raven-haired man broke through the crowd. Immediately behind him strode Richard. Beyond all reason, she wanted to reach out to Richard, to give him some explanation of her actions on the road. To him she would have apologized for what he and his family had suffered at Basil’s hand.

The raven-haired speaker was likely Stephen of Wilmont, the youngest of the three brothers. Now, not
only must she convince the king of her plan’s validity, but do so over Wilmont’s objection.

“We do not recall asking your opinion,” the king admonished Stephen.

Stephen bowed to Henry. “I beg your indulgence if I overstep, Sire, but I feel obligated to speak out. Wilmont endured much due to Basil’s treachery. Richard is fortunate to have survived Basil’s attempt to do murder. And even now, three years after their kidnapping, Gerard’s wife and son suffer nightmares of their mistreatment at Basil’s hands. Surely, Sire, you can understand my concern.”

What kidnapping?
What other horrors had Basil inflicted on those of Wilmont which she knew nothing about? What obscenities had he committed upon an innocent woman he deemed an enemy?

Was Stephen right? Would blood tell? Would Philip grow up to be just like his father, viciously cruel, simply because Basil had fathered him?

She refused to believe it.

“Majesty,” she said, drawing the king’s attention. “I know that those of Wilmont have sound reasons to hate Basil. Philip, however, was but three summers old when his father died, too young for Basil to have had a lasting influence on the boy. And my son also carries my blood, both noble and untainted. Would not the proper counsel of a stalwart protector prove the stronger influence on how Philip grows to manhood? Majesty,” she continued, hating the plea in her voice but unable to help it, “must the sins of the father be held against the son?”

“Trust a woman to think so unsoundly,” Stephen said. “Bad seed is bad seed, passed through the male line. Sire, if you will allow, I will arrange for Basil’s
widow and son to sail to Normandy. If she has not the coin to pay, I will.”

Lucinda strongly objected. “If I return to my family, my father will send Philip to Basil’s family to be raised. Philip will but learn the same lessons as Basil learned, those of cruelty and deceit. Majesty, I beg you not to sentence my son to the fate of his father.”

“My offer stands, Sire,” Stephen said.

Silence reigned. Henry hadn’t said a word during her argument with Stephen. She had no idea to which side he leaned. The king looked hard at Stephen and Richard, then turned to Lucinda.

“If our memory serves us,” the king said, “we recall that Basil had lands in Normandy, which should rightfully now belong to your son. Who would now control those lands?”

“I assume Basil’s cousin, George.”

“Ah…another noble of questionable loyalty and judgment. You did well to keep the boy from his influence.” The king shifted on his throne. “So whoever we name protector must have the means to fight George, if necessary, to collect the rents due from the boy’s lands, and thus the protector’s reward for accepting Philip until the boy is of age.”

She nodded, her hopes for a favorable judgment rising. The king seemed to understand her position and was leaning in her favor.

“We know of several men capable,” the king continued. “Our concern is that given the added wealth, those men might also challenge Wilmont for control of Basil’s former English lands, on the child’s behalf. We want peace among our nobles, not petty wars. To our mind, the perfect protector would be Gerard of Wilmont.”

The king
couldn’t
give Philip over to Gerard of Wilmont! Before she could protest, Stephen spoke.

“Sire,” he said softly. “’Twould be most unfair to inflict the boy on Gerard’s family. Have they not suffered enough at the hands of Northbryre?”

The king leaned forward. “Who better to ensure that no war is waged against Wilmont than those of Wilmont? Frankly, Stephen, our next choice would be to give the pair to you! We will not, however, because you would likely abandon them.”

The pair?
Merciful heaven. The king meant to make
both
her and her son wards of Wilmont.

“Majesty,” she said, “would you deliver us into the hands of a man whose hatred for Basil runs so very deep?”

“You brought your petition before us, Lucinda, and will now trust us to do what is best for not only you and your son, but for the kingdom.”

Henry then turned to Richard. “You and this boy are both the victims of Basil’s treachery. Through no fault of yours, you nearly lost your life. Through no fault of his, Philip is deprived of a great portion of his inheritance and is in need of guidance. He requires a protector, Richard. What say you?”

Richard stood as impenetrable and cold-faced as a stone wall. Richard, the bastard of Wilmont. She could think of few men less suitable—except Gerard.

“Sire,” Richard said, his tone even, “I would suggest that you do the child a disservice, not because I am of Wilmont, but because of my mixed heritage and bastard birth.”

The king frowned. “Come now, Richard. Surely you do not imply that a man of bastard birth is less
worthy. Look to my own offspring. Do you deem them inferior due to their birth?”

“Of course not, Sire. Although I am sure that when the lady requested a protector, she had in mind a man of at least equal rank and birth as her son, if not higher.”

The king stood, a sure sign that his patience was at an end. “The fate of this child rests with your decision, Richard of Wilmont. Either the boy and mother go with you, or they go to Gerard. I will have your answer in the morn.” He turned to Kester. “Dismiss the other petitioners until after nooning on the morrow.”

With a sweep of his royal robe, King Henry left the hall.

In complete shock, Lucinda voiced her thought aloud. “There must be another solution.”

“Aye, there must,” Richard said, his fists clenched at his sides, disdain etched onto his face. “When you return to the abbey, you might pray that we find one before morn!”

“I
am sorry, Richard,” Stephen apologized again, as he had all during the long walk from the hall up to Wilmont’s chambers in the palace. As well he should apologize. If only Stephen had kept his peace, and not drawn the king’s attention to them…Now they were in a sorry mess.

The long walk had shaved the sharpness from Richard’s anger, but it hadn’t yet cooled completely. He poured himself a goblet of wine and sank down in a chair.

“Stop apologizing for getting us into this fix and think of how to get us out,” he told Stephen. “There must be some way to convince Henry of the folly he commits.”

Richard glanced about the sitting room of Wilmont’s chambers, remembering the turmoil during the last time he’d occupied these palace rooms. So much had happened in the three years since. They had thought themselves done with Basil and his ilk. Now the widow and boy were throwing his life into upheaval once more—as if Basil were reaching back from the grave to do further mischief.

Just as the king had forced Gerard into a strange betrothal with Ardith, now Henry wanted to toss Richard into an unholy relationship with Lucinda. The difference was Gerard had wanted Ardith; Richard did
not
want Lucinda.

He no longer struggled with desire for the woman. It had vanished the moment Stephen had revealed her identity.

“Mayhap we could find another noble to take the boy as his ward,” Stephen suggested. “Someone acceptable to both the king and Gerard.”

“Pray tell, who?” Richard asked, thinking of the king’s strongest reason for giving Philip to one of Wilmont. “To which noble do we entrust the boy without fear of strife when the boy comes of age? Alliances change from day to day in this kingdom. Years hence, the protector might use the excuse of reclaiming Philip’s heritage to come after
our
lands!”

Stephen sighed. “Mayhap we should send to Gerard for counsel.”

Richard took a long swig of wine from his goblet. “There is not a horse in this kingdom with the speed and stamina necessary to travel from Westminster to Wilmont and back again before the morn. I fear, Stephen, we are on our own.”

At the moment, he saw no other choice but to accept Philip’s wardship. Compelling Gerard to take the boy would be like putting a knife in his brother’s gullet and twisting it.

Gerard would be furious if forced to submit to the king’s edict, to the point where his relationship with Henry might suffer permanent severance. Gerard wouldn’t be pleased if Richard submitted either, but it would be the more palatable arrangement, especially
if Henry truly intended to include the mother in the bargain.

Hellfire. What would he do with the pair? He’d once planned to take them home to Collinwood. Unfortunately, Collinwood had once belonged to Basil and the people vividly remembered their former lord’s heavy oppression. They wouldn’t look kindly on their new lord for bringing Basil’s widow and child among them.

His tenants’ trust had been hard earned. Many were still wary, as if waiting for the day when he would become as harsh and cruel as Basil. Bringing Lucinda and Philip to Collinwood might jeopardize their budding loyalty.

Mayhap he could take them to another of his holdings and just leave them there, visit occasionally to see how they fared. But then, could he fulfill his obligations to the boy from a distance?

“Mayhap not all is as bad as it now seems,” Stephen said. “Depending upon how much in fees and rents the boy’s lands in Normandy bring you, this wardship could be a boon.”

Richard almost laughed. “And how do you suggest I go about collecting the fees from Basil’s family without taking an army to Normandy?”

Stephen shrugged a shoulder. “If Henry signs an order instructing this George to pay the rents to you, the man really has little choice. Henry is also the Duke of Normandy, George’s liege lord.”

“His very absent, very faraway liege lord.”

Stephen tossed his hands in the air. “Very well, Richard. I gave you the benefit of my counsel and you reject all of my ideas. ’Tis your turn to suggest an option.”

Richard wished he could.

“I suppose I should seek out Lucinda, see if she has any ideas. I am sure she is thinking hard on the matter, too. She likes this edict no more than you or I.”

Lucinda tossed her good gown into the sack, drew the rope and tied the knot.

“Are you ready, Philip?”

“I do not want to leave,” he complained, again. “Brother Ambrose promised me a tour of the stables on the morn. Please, Mother, can we not stay until then?”

She would like to indulge the boy, and if she could think of a way to sway the king from his edict, she would. She’d asked for a protector and Henry had granted one, but he’d ignored Philip’s best interests, or hers, in favor of his own.

“Nay, we cannot stay. Now hurry.”

“Do we go to my protector’s castle, with the horses?”

“The noble whom the king would give you to is not suitable, so we must continue our search for a nice village in which to settle.”

How Henry could justify making Gerard of Wilmont Philip’s protector astonished her. Gerard would surely hate the very idea of caring for the son of the man who’d kidnapped and abused his wife and son. As for Richard, the expression on his face upon hearing the king’s edict had left no doubt of his feelings.

Abiding by Henry’s decision was the least palatable of her options, especially if Henry truly intended to give Philip’s protector authority over her, too. Running
away might be the coward’s way out, but rather a free coward than Wilmont’s prisoner.

Philip groaned and pulled a long face, but he picked up his pack. “You gave away Oscar’s mule. How will we carry everything? Where are we going?”

She had no notion of where they would go. For now, beyond the city limits and into the countryside would suffice. By the time anyone realized they were gone, she and Philip would be well out of reach.

“We will find somewhere to stay the night, mayhap another abbey,” she said, then pulled, pushed, and cajoled Philip through the abbey’s passageways.

She broke into the sunshine of the yard, turned the corner of the building nearest the road—and came chest-to-chest with Richard of Wilmont.

Lucinda stumbled and almost dropped her pack. Richard grabbed her upper arms to steady her.

His hands were large and warm, his grip firm but not hurtful. Even as she cursed her ill luck, her body heated to Richard’s touch as it had on the road. ’Twas disconcerting, this thrill along her spine at the touch of a man, especially a man as large and powerful as Richard. She should be repulsed, as she’d been every time Basil had touched her. She should tremble with fear, not attraction!

He glanced down at her pack, then over at Philip. He didn’t say anything, just raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I thought it best if Philip and I left,” she said, hoping he would understand. She expected him to let her go and allow them to leave. He didn’t.

“Where would you go?” he asked.

“Away. Far away.”

“’Twould do no good to leave. Henry would order me to find you and bring you back.”

“You could say you could not find us,” she offered.

“Henry would know better.”

She couldn’t think while this close to Richard. She took a step back; he released his grip.

“Certes, you do not want us,” she said, her thoughts becoming clearer. “I should think you would be relieved that we go our separate ways.”

He crossed his arms. “You are correct, Lucinda. I do not like Henry’s edict, but neither can I let you leave.”

Lucinda felt a tug on her skirt. “Mother?”

She was certainly making a mess of her escape. Of course, if Richard hadn’t happened along to waylay her, she and Philip would be well away by now. Or had he just happened along? Had he been coming to see her?

Richard bent down and grabbed Philip’s pack. “Come,” he said, placing a hand at her elbow. He gave a slight push in the direction of the palace. She stood firmly in place.

“Where do we go?”

“To Wilmont chambers. ’Tis private there so we can talk. There must be some way to solve this dilemma without putting any of us at risk.”

“Such as?”

“I do not know yet, but putting you and the boy in jeopardy is not an answer.”

Richard watched Lucinda’s ire melt into resignation. If forced to, he’d have dragged her kicking and screaming to the palace. He couldn’t let her flee, no matter how much she wanted to leave and he wanted
to let her go. Henry would be furious, and Wilmont’s standing at court couldn’t sustain another blow without suffering severe damage.

When next Richard pushed at her elbow, Lucinda turned and started toward the palace. Philip silently followed in their wake.

Richard really couldn’t blame Lucinda for attempting an escape. In her position, about to be placed under control of one whom she considered an enemy, he might have tried the same thing. Then why was he angry that she tried to leave? It made no sense, but then all his reactions to Lucinda made no sense.

He’d thought all desire for her dead—until the moment he touched her again, until he’d stared into the depths of her violet eyes and found determination mixed with fear.

Richard ushered them into Wilmont’s chambers and tossed Philip’s pack in the corner near the brazier. Stephen had left for who knew where. Lucinda and Philip stood in the doorway, but neither seemed sure of what to do next.

“Sit,” he ordered, indicating a chair with a wave of his hand. Lucinda obeyed, if slowly, then put down her pack and lifted Philip onto her lap.

Her apprehension was palpable and probably natural, given the situation. Still, it fueled his anger. What the devil did she think he would do to her? Or to the boy? He wasn’t some ogre who would physically harm either of them. Surely, during the days they’d already spent together she’d learned something of his nature.

He might yell, occasionally, and had been known to throw a cup or two across the room, at times. But he wouldn’t hit Lucinda.

Nay, he wouldn’t hit her, because every time his hand came in contact with any part of her body he wished to stroke, not strike. Wished to caress, not bruise. What the woman did to his innards was unsettling. And must come to a halt, for both of their sakes.

“Do you want to explain to Philip what is going on, or should I?” he asked.

With a flash of annoyance, she undertook the task. Philip sat silent, his gaze flickering from Richard to his mother to his hands as the story unfolded. She did so with halting, carefully chosen words, in simple terms that Philip could understand.

Richard noted that she didn’t relate Stephen’s angry words or the king’s displeasure with Gerard, or her fear for Philip’s life should he be returned to Basil’s family in Normandy. She spared him most of the details that would cause fear, or even discomfort. Richard wondered if it was wise to protect the boy. Philip would need to know the whole of it, eventually. Mayhap, however, she was wise to let him absorb the situation a little at a time.

“Neither Richard nor I am pleased with the king’s decision,” she told her son. “I dare say Gerard would not be pleased either. That is why we were about to leave, to spare us all unpleasantness.”

“They do not want us, do they, because my father fought with them.”

Lucinda smiled wanly as she stroked her son’s hair. “’Twas more than a simple fight, Philip. Your father tried to destroy Wilmont. He sought to have Gerard murdered, and Richard nearly died of wounds inflicted by your father’s men.”

“That is unlawful,” Philip stated. “Did not the king punish him?”

“The king thought to, but your father escaped. Then he tried to get others to join a rebellion against Henry. That’s when Basil sent me a message to remove you from the castle at Northbryre, because he knew you might be in danger.”

Richard noted that she didn’t include herself within Basil’s concern, which shouldn’t be surprising. Men of noble rank rarely cared for their wives, would be more concerned for the safety of a son, an heir.

Richard knew it foolish to add “lack of feeling for his wife” to the list of Basil’s many sins, but he did. Basil was dead and, undoubtedly, burning in hell. For his multitude of sins, Basil now suffered mightily at the hands of a far harsher master than could be found on earth. Richard found the thought comforting.

“So we went to live with Oscar and Hetty, so we would be safe,” Philip said.

Lucinda nodded.

Philip glanced again at Richard, then turned back to his mother. “Could we go home? Back to Northbryre?”

“Nay, Philip. Northbryre no longer exists. Remember when I told you that your father died in a fire? That fire was at Northbryre.”

Richard wondered how much of the true story she knew. Aye, technically, Basil had died in the flames. Both Ardith and Gerard had contributed deeply to his death—Ardith had stabbed Basil when he’d tried to rape her, and Gerard hadn’t made any attempt to rescue the wounded man from the flames. Few people knew the whole story, but there had been speculation.

Lucinda looked up at Richard. “I also heard that
the land on which Northbryre stood now belongs to Wilmont. True?”

“The king confiscated all of Basil’s lands in England, then divided them between himself and Gerard. Of Gerard’s portion, he kept Northbryre and gave the rest to Stephen and me.”

Her raised eyebrow revealed her surprise. Indeed, his brother’s generosity surprised many.

Then she frowned. “If we were to go with you, would we be living on Basil’s former lands?”

“Aye, at Collinwood.”

She paled. The woman obviously knew of her husband’s defilement of Collinwood, his cruelty toward the tenants. Richard almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She’d done nothing to thwart Basil’s ruthlessness.

Richard would forever remember the day he first set eyes on Collinwood. He’d known that the manor was in a sorry state, but he hadn’t been prepared for the haunted eyes of the people. Half-starved children. Men with no pride. Women without hope.

“The royal betrothal ceremony takes place in two days,” he said. “Be prepared to travel on the third.”