Stuart, Elizabeth (35 page)

He
rubbed his chin thoughtfully. No, there was something more troubling Elen, and
he was certain it had to do with the developing relationship between them. He
had tried to be patient, knowing hers was not an easy choice. But his patience
was at an end. By the blessed rood, you'd think a man and woman had never
desired each other before!

He
thought once more of the letter, wondering at his own distaste for the de Borgh
match. A man didn't whistle his fortune down the wind because of lust for a
pretty Welsh bastard. Marriages had naught to do with such. They were made to
unite fortunes or families in powerful alliances, and ofttimes the bride and
groom had never met. There need be no warm feelings on either side for a union.

But
he wanted something more.

Something
more than a fortune? he asked himself grimly. Something more than a tractable
young bride and a respected family backing him up? Something more than an
accepted place in a society that had scorned him the better part of his years?
He must be a raving lunatic!

When
he reached the hall, Richard was relieved to find Elen seated at the table in
her accustomed place beside his. Perhaps she'd become reasonable. But one
glance at her stormy face told him the hope was vain. "I'm pleased you've
deigned to join us at last," he remarked.

"How
could I resist such a courteous invitation?"

Simon
stepped forward to serve them and Richard leaned back in his chair, his temper
rising despite his effort to curb it. "I dare not guess. You've done more
foolish things than that since I've known you."

Elen
stared at him coldly. "Yes, at least one I can think of."

Richard
sent her a measuring glance. She had already told him she regretted saving his
life. But he didn't believe her. And he was about to call her bluff. He had
been patient beyond belief, but he was about to put her pretense to an end.

"M'lord!"

Richard
glanced up as one of his men hastened forward.

"A
large party approaching, m'lord. A messenger just reached the gates. It's Sir
John Basset and his lady with your brother and the Baron of Ravensgate."

Richard
jerked to his feet. "What?"

"Uh...
your family, m'lord, and Sir Hugh de Veasy. They'll be at the gates in a
moment. Shall we let them in?"

Richard
nodded dumbly. His father and stepmother here?

Giles
rose and called for the steward. More food must be prepared and wine brought up
from the storerooms. Bedchambers must be readied and room made for the
men-at-arms.

Richard
sank back into his chair, thoughts of Elen banished by the unexpected news.
What scheme brought de Veasy north in company with his family? And what, in
God's name, were they doing here at all?

A
short time later the travelers were announced into the hall. As he watched, Sir
John advanced across the floor, and Richard noticed the drag of his left leg
was more pronounced than he remembered. It was a grim reminder of the Battle of
Lewes; the years had not been kind to the old warrior.

Gazing
at his aging, once-powerful sire, something twisted in Richard's heart. He rose
and hurried down the steps, then dropped to one knee. "I'm glad I see you
well, Father," he murmured.

Sir
John caught his son's shoulders, lifting him to his feet. "And you my son.
You're a sight to gladden these old eyes." His fingers gripped Richard
convulsively. "Aye, a proud sight, Richard."

Richard
turned to the attractive woman standing a few paces away. His gaze slid over
her lovely, dark features and he gave her a curt nod. "Jeanne."

She
inclined her head. "Richard."

"I...
I hope we've not inconvenienced you, Richard," Sir John began hesitantly.
"After learning my wish to visit Wales, my lord de Veasy kindly offered to
escort us. We owe him our thanks. We'd never have mounted such an expedition on
our own."

The
Baron of Ravensgate handed his cloak into the keeping of a servant. De Veasy
turned, his gold neckchain and surcoat of crimson cloth gleaming richly in the
torchlight. "Well, why wouldn't I help the parents of my young friend
here?" he remarked, smiling at Philip, "Besides, I'd a desire to see
Edward's Wolf of the North in action."

"You're
welcome, of course, though I fear there'll be little action to entertain
you." Richard gestured to the table, keeping his expression carefully
blank. "But come and refresh yourselves. My men will see to yours, Sir
Hugh."

He
led the way to the high table, sending Elen a quelling glance. "Father, I
would make you known to the Lady Elen of Powys." He searched for a polite
explanation for the girl's presence that was not too distanced from the truth.
"She is a hostage I hold against the good behavior of Welsh rebels in the
district."

De
Veasy's dark eyes slid over Elen appreciatively and he sent his host a lazy
smile. "What a charming hostage you chose, Richard. No wonder you were in
such haste to get back to the north. And they say you've no taste for
conquest."

Elen
returned his look coldly. The Baron of Ravensgate was known the length and
breadth of Wales, the raven banner he flaunted more hated even than Richard's
dreaded red boar. It was a shame someone hadn't got next to him with a knife.

Richard
ignored the comment and turned to his father. "The Lady Elen has helped me
to understand the customs and practices here. With Edward's approval, we've
produced an acceptable mixture of both English and Welsh laws for local use. On
the morrow, I can show you if you've an interest."

As
the travelers were seated, Elen made a quick study of Richard's family: the
tall, silver-haired man with the martial bearing she would have known at a
glance was Richard's father. And the cold, dark-eyed woman was the one who had
made his boyhood such hell. Elen's eyes traveled over his half-brother, Philip.
The boy was handsome in a dark way but with none of Richard's golden beauty or
rugged strength. And he had taken up with the wrong master. He aped de Veasy's
manner and dress in a way that was ridiculous.

"With
your leave I'll retire now, Richard," Elen announced, her curiosity
satisfied. "You'll have much to discuss with your family."

Richard
gazed pointedly at the untouched food on the trencher they shared. "You've
not yet finished your meal, Elen. You may go above when you've eaten."

She
sent him a rebellious glance, not caring that Hugh de Veasy watched the
exchange with interest.

"After
you've eaten," Richard repeated with a challenging look.

She
was tempted to refuse, but thought better of the idea at once. Given the mood
Richard was in, she decided not to press her luck. "Of course. I only
thought to give you time alone with your family."

As
the talk rose about them again, Elen picked at the food Simon served. The
conversation was carried mainly by Richard and his father with Jeanne joining
occasionally.

How
little she knew about Richard, Elen realized as she listened. He had spoken
little of his lands in Kent, his home at Waybridge. She had not even known of
his half-sister, Isabel, of whom he was obviously quite fond. The girl was
residing at a convent near London and Richard hoped to see her when next he was
at court.

"And
is this Isabel of marriageable age?" Hugh de Veasy asked. "Perhaps I
should look about me for some suitable young men."

Elen
felt Richard stiffen beside her. "My thanks, Sir Hugh, but we've no need
of your help. In any case, Isabel is much too young."

"She's
thirteen. None too young to be beginning to think of such," Jeanne put in.
"As you'd know, Richard, if you took a proper interest in your family's
affairs."

Richard
sent her a scornful glance but remained silent.

"Speaking
of marriages, Richard, I heard word of yours before leaving Ravensgate,"
de Veasy remarked into the sudden quiet. "If the tale's to be believed,
we'll soon be wishing you joy of a most advantageous alliance. What truth to
this talk you're in the midst of contracting for the de Borgh heiress?"

Richard
smiled coolly. "And do you also believe in children's nursery tales, my
lord?" he countered.

"Come,
Richard, you can tell us. We're friends and family here," de Veasy persisted.
"Don't be modest—how did you manage the feat?"

"There's
no truth to the rumor I've contracted with de Borgh. The man would be out of
his mind to consider any settlement I could make."

"But
it's said the king put you forward," Jeanne said, leaning eagerly over the
table. "Certainly he owes you something. Why, when I think of what such
advancement could mean for Philip and Isabel, I—"

"Well,
don't think of it, Jeanne," Richard interrupted coldly. "Edward owes
me nothing."

"But—"

"Enough
of this," Sir John said bluntly. "Richard says there's no truth to
the gossip so there's an end to it."

Married.
Richard was negotiating to be married. Elen lifted her wine cup and took a deep
drink, hoping it would ease the sudden tightening in her chest. It seemed she
knew very little about Richard Basset, very little indeed.

She
placed her cup on the table, holding her face to a carefully set smile. The
knowledge that Richard wanted her in his bed while he maneuvered for a rich
wife was far more bitter than she had expected. But just what had she expected?

Nothing,
she told herself furiously. Nothing but this. A man didn't discuss such details
as his marriage with every wench he sought out for a tumble—most especially an
English knight with a woman he thought a Welsh bastard.

But
though she tried to reason away the pain, the knowledge still hurt. It was just
that she had grown accustomed to honesty from Richard, had even begun to rue
her own deceit. Well, Richard would get his surprise soon enough. After her
escape she would send him a letter—a letter signed Lady Elen, late of Teifi.

Hugh
de Veasy excused himself to see to his men and Philip followed him from the
table. Richard motioned a manservant to show the men their chambers.

Jeanne
gazed fondly after her son. "You could do much for him, if you would,
Richard," she said softly. "A word to Edward and Philip's fortune
might be made."

Richard
glanced sharply at his stepmother. "The king is no bag of good fortune I
may dip from at will. He has his own affairs to see to—as Philip must see to
his."

Jeanne
turned on him angrily. "You will scoop gain for yourself, but not for
others of your family, eh? Well, you can't fool me, Richard. Ranulff de Borgh
wrote your father of a possible alliance as is fitting he should before proceeding
further. You forget—Waybridge is not yet yours to contract away!"

"I
doubt Sir Ranulff is interested in Waybridge," Richard said dryly.
"Or my dinner companions in hearing family grievances aired. I say again,
there is nothing to the rumor." He rose to his feet, abruptly ending the
conversation. "And as you've finished, I'll have you shown your chamber.
I'm certain you're weary after your journey."

The
group rose, and Elen came to her feet along with them. She had no desire to
linger after the others departed. Any conversation with Richard could only end
in a quarrel, a quarrel she felt strangely unequal to now. "I wish to
retire as well."

Richard
nodded. "I'll see you above."

"Don't
trouble yourself. Simon may serve as my guard."

Sir
John touched his son's arm. "I did have something to say to you, Richard.
Stay a moment if you will."

Richard
sent Elen a thoughtful glance. "All right, Father, I've a matter to
discuss with you as well."

Elen
didn't look at Richard again as she followed Simon from the hall. Was Richard
really to be married? She took a deep breath. It made no difference to her, of
course. He could take as many wives and mistresses as he chose.

As
they reached the corridor leading to Elen's bedchamber, she became aware of the
sound of footsteps behind them. A smooth voice called for Simon to wait.

She
felt a touch of irritation as Hugh de Veasy caught up to them. Simon glanced up
at the man, suspicion hardening his gaze. "Have you lost your way, my
lord? If you'll wait here a moment, I'll see you to your chamber."

"No,
thank you, boy. I've discovered my way quite well. You may be off about your
business—I'll see the lady the rest of the way."

"You're
a guest, sir. I couldn't think to let you wander about here alone. Sir Richard
would have my head."

"And
I'll have the hide from your back if you don't take yourself off. Now do as
you're bid and be gone!"

Simon
made a curt bow. "Certainly, my lord, if you're sure you know the
way." He sent Elen a quick glance, then disappeared down the hallway.

De
Veasy turned to Elen, his dark eyes gleaming in the shadows like polished jet.
"My lady... shall we continue?"

"Your
purpose in this, sir?" she asked, studying him warily. "I'm certain
you have one."