The Bride of Windermere (23 page)

Read The Bride of Windermere Online

Authors: Margo Maguire

BOOK: The Bride of Windermere
7.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“I have no intention of trusting anyone in this castle yet, until I determine whose loyalty lies where. Especially not Thomas Somers,” Wolf said to Nicholas as they continued down the stairs and moved towards the great hall. “But I'll need someone to tend to Kit...”
“Not the housekeeper?”
“Mistress Hanchaw least of all,” Wolf replied.
“Not Somers—”
“Ha! I'd sooner let Kit near a wild boar.”
“What about Baron Wellesley and—”
“He may favor Philip.”
“And his daughter?”
“Lady...?” Wolf was at a loss for her name.
“Christine. We met her at Windermere Fair. As I recollect,” Nick added with a grin, “she took a liking to you—a strong liking.”
“I'm not in need of another wife, Nick,” he answered, taking his cousin's meaning.
“No, but Lady Christine is here. Mayhap Baron Wellesley is unaware that you were wed in London.”
“Well, he'll learn of it on the morrow. Why don't you try to persuade the lady to favor
you
instead,” Wolf said with a grim smile. “Good night, cousin.”
Nicholas and Wolf split up, then Wolf went on to meet Alfie's family alone. The Juvets were a young couple, clean and well dressed, certainly not wearing the simple rough tunics of peasants. Freemen, Wolf thought. An idea took root in Wolf's mind, and he wondered if the Juvet family's obvious prosperity would prevent Madam Juvet from accepting a position in the duke's household.
Alfie was the first to speak. He stepped forward, glad to see Wolf, yet nervous at the same time. “I was hoping to see yer lady, sir,” he said,“ to give her the wreath we made and...to thank her...for...” He twisted his hat in his hands.
“My wife is indisposed,” Wolf said. “She took a fall just outside of town, though I'm certain she'll recover quickly.”
“Thank the saints for that,” Alfie's mother said quietly, crossing herself.
“Is it bad, milord?” Alfie asked, swallowing hard. “I mean, is she...does it hurt her very much?”
“Well, yes,” Wolf said, “it seemed to hurt quite a bit. But I daresay she'll be up some tomorrow.”
“Your Grace,” Master Juvet said, “may I say that we—in town—were disturbed to hear of the attack upon your person and the duchess' fall. There are a number of men in town who wish to assist you...to bring justice...er...to those who would do you ill.”
“Your efforts are appreciated, Juvet,” Wolf replied. “All I ask of you now is to inform me if any of Philip Colston's men are seen about. Perhaps one of them can lead us to my cousin.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Juvet said. “May I also say how pleased we...that is to say, all of us in town were pleased to learn that it was you—Sir Gerhart—who is Wolfram Colston, Duke of Carlisle. And we just heard of your marriage today when young Alfie here—well, Alfie was the one who learned you'd wed Lady Kathryn. Your lady is a most gracious, generous—”
“Lady Kathryn will always have my undyin' gratitude and loyalty, Your Grace,” Alfie's mother said, mustering her courage to speak. “What she did that day at the fair—for my boy—”
“The townspeople remember Sir Gerhart well from the day you came to the fair, Your Grace,” her husband interrupted. “They never met a man—an outsider—who was so interested in their work, or their fields and crops. The earl himself never cared much, so long as he got his workweek from us,” Juvet said, choosing his words cautiously. After all, it wasn't every day that a common freeman addressed a duke, and he had been chosen by the townspeople to be the one to represent them, to test the waters in their new lord's home. “Ever since King Henry's men came to arrest the earl—well, the old people have been talking about your father, Lord Bartholomew, and the way things were in the days when he was earl. I must tell you that the mood in town has changed a great deal since we learned that
you
were returning as Lord of Windermere.”
“Thank you, Juvet,” Wolf said. “I am pleased to be home.”
“About Lady Kit,” Alfie said. “When can I see her? When—”
“Hush, lad!” his mother scolded him and pulled him back behind her.
“I would venture to say that my wife will be able to see you tomorrow, Alfie,” Wolf said, “if you don't present yourself too early. Not before noontime at least.”
Alfie smiled and nodded. “I'll be here!”
“There is one problem, though,” Wolf said, turning his eyes to Madam Juvet. “Lady Kathryn is in need of a companion... a trustworthy woman to spend days here at the castle with her—”
“Oh, Your Grace,” Madam Juvet interrupted without hesitation, “I am just the one for it!”
“You, Madam Juvet?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “I owe your wife a debt, and I'd gladly be companion to such a merciful, courageous lady. If not for her—well, I hate to think what would have happened to my Alfie if she'd not interceded for him.” Madam Juvet beamed at Wolf.
 
Emma Juvet agreed to begin her duties the following morning. Alfie would be permitted to come along for a short visit because Wolf knew how pleased Kit would be to see him.
Wolf was anxious to return to his chambers to see about Kit. He gave orders for bathwater to be sent to his room and was about to mount the stairs when he encountered Thomas Somers, lurking in the shadows near the steps. Lines of dissolution crinkled the skin around his eyes and mouth, and Wolf felt an immense distaste for the man who had so abused Kit when she was helpless to defend herself.
“Won't see me, eh?” he slurred drunkenly, poking a finger into Wolf's chest. “Can't spare a few moments' time for your
precious
wife's father?”
“Since you cannot claim the honor of being my wife's father—
No!”
Wolf replied forcefully, reining in his temper. “Leave Windermere at once, Somers. You have no business here.”
“Well, I won't leave ‘til I've seen her,” the baron sneered. “Don't know why the king wanted her in London, but
you
owe me. You went off to London and you
took
her. Preyed 'pon her innocence. Don't try to deny it. And don't think I don't know what the lying whore's been tel—”
Wolf's fist smashed into the baron's face, sending Somers crashing to the stone floor, and rendering further speech impossible.
Somers raised himself up on one elbow and touched his face gingerly with his other hand. His eyes were teary with the force of the blow and a steady stream of blood trickled from one nostril. With gentle fingers, the baron reassured himself that none of his facial features had been knocked loose. He glared at Wolf with a chilling and obvious hatred in his eyes, but the duke turned and left the sprawling baron to his own devices.
Wolf headed up the steps to his chamber, unaware of a witness in a nearby alcove.
 
 
Wolf sat down next to Kit on the bed. Her eyelashes lay thick on her cheek, and she stirred only slightly when he touched her face. Wolfs heart twisted, seeing her lying there so pale, so vulnerable. At least he had been able to keep her safe from her contemptible stepfather.
Servants arrived and laid a small fire in the grate to take off the chill of the evening. Then they set up Wolf's bath in front of the fireplace. Wolf bid them to leave one bucket of hot water near the fire, and gave orders that he was to be disturbed by no one—with the exception of Nicholas Becker. He stood up and stretched, looking back down at his wife.
Aye, she was weary. He'd kept her up most of the previous night, he recalled with a tender smile, then he'd kept her in front of him in his saddle all day. Even without the terrible fall she'd taken, it was no wonder that she slept.
Wolf shucked off his clothes and settled into the bath with a long sigh. He was home, though it felt like home only because she was with him. His Kathryn. He shuddered to think what his life would have become without her. He'd have gained Windermere and Carlisle and the rest, but what would have been the worth of all the holdings in England without her?
Wolf indulged in a long soak, then washed and got out of the tub. After drying himself and stoking the fire in the grate, he carried the bucket of hot water and a cloth to the bed.
Kit slept soundly, even as he removed her clothes and washed her gently, taking care of her various aches and bruises. Her only signs of life were an occasional sigh or moan.
When the water and cloth were discarded, Wolf finally extinguished all the candles in the room, then slid into bed next to Kathryn. He drew her in close, and she unconsciously fit herself into the curve of his stomach and chest.
“I'll take care of you, love,” he whispered to her slumbering ears. He turned the new signet ring on his finger. “We're home now...a wolf and his rose...”
Chapter Eighteen
 
 
K
it slept the night through, and the morning as well. Wolf hated to leave before she was awake, but two of the men who had been out scouring the hillsides with Claude Montrose returned with evidence of men living in rough camps south of the castle. It was the first lead they had on Philip, and Wolf was anxious to follow up.
He didn't give a second thought to Baron Somers who had cleared out of Windermere before midnight.
“Be certain not to leave my wife alone, Madam Juvet, unless Sir Ranulf is nearby,” Wolf instructed quietly, speaking to the woman in the gallery outside his chambers. Ranulf was assigned to the castle for the day in order to be available in case Kit had any need. The tall knight gave Emma Juvet a nod of his head.
“Do you expect trouble, Your Grace?” Emma asked, frowning back at the duke.
“No,” Wolf replied. “Just a precaution—no doubt some of the servants are resentful of what happened to Philip...”
“Aye, Your Grace,” Emma said knowingly. “I take your meaning.”
“I won't take any chances with my wife's well-being.” Wolf said as they entered the bedroom quietly together. He bent over Kit and kissed her forehead as she slept, then smoothed a few wisps of hair back from her cheek. She turned over and sighed, but didn't awaken.
 
Mistress Juvet sat next to the open window, mending her son's long stockings by the early afternoon light. A soft breeze stirred the dark hair at the nape of her neck, and she glanced up at Lady Kathryn's bed again.
The lady's eyes were open this time. And lovely grassgreen eyes they were.
“Good day to you, Your Grace,” she said as soon as she saw that the duchess was able to focus.
Kit propped herself up and glanced around the room, looking for Wolf.
“Your husband left with his men this morning, I'm afraid,” the woman said. “He left orders that you weren't to be disturbed. I'm Emma Juvet—from town,” she said. “Young Alfie's my boy.”
“Ah...Alfie,” Kit remarked. Oh, how her body ached. But not nearly as much as her heart. Why had he left her? All had seemed well between them yesterday, but in the light of a new day, Kit felt anything but secure in his affections. There was no legitimate reason for him to keep a vigil over her, but she would like to have seen him when she awoke.
“Last night we came—my husband and the lad—to pay our respects,” Emma said. She set her mending aside and filled a basin of water from a clay pitcher on a wooden stand. She brought it over to Kit. “The duke asked me to spend the day with you—he seemed not to want you... left alone, Your Grace. Leastwise not until you get a maid of your own choosing.”
“I see,” Kit answered, finally gaining some understanding of Wolf's reason for sending Alfie's mother to her. Philip was still a threat.
“Did my husband say when he'd return, Madam Juvet?”
“Please call me Emma, Your Grace, and no,” Emma replied. “He didn't say.”
“Was there any word about Philip?” Kit asked. “Any sign of him?”
“Only that it seems somebody's been hiding out in those woods to the south of town,” Emma reported. “The duke went with some men to go see.”
“Oh.” Kit was disappointed. How she wished she had awakened with him. She didn't even remember sleeping with him in their bed last night, though in her dreams, he held her close and she could feel his warm breath in her ear. She pushed that foolish fantasy to the back of her mind.
“The bowman who put his arrow in your saddle is dead.”
“They killed him?”
“Not as I hear,” Emma replied, after taking the water away and helping Kit to dress. “He fell from a cliff they say. Broke his neck in the fall.”
Kit shuddered.
“It was Broderick Ramsey, Lord Philip's bailiff,” Emma said. “Never was much of an archer. That's why the shaft pierced your saddle—and not your husband's neck, I'd say.”
The duke had not mentioned any restrictions on Kit's activities, so Emma didn't protest when Kit asked to be helped down to the hall. Though she felt like an old woman, hobbling down the stone staircase with Emma's help and some unexpected assistance from Sir Ranulf, Kit made her way gingerly into the great hall. Young Alfie was there, and he made much over “Lady Kit” and her return to Windermere.
Once she was ensconced in a large, comfortable chair, several of the servants came to Kit to ask after her comfort and also to introduce themselves.
“I imagine most are pleased to have a mistress about the place now,” Emma said after everyone had left, “and none too sorry to see the last of Philip Colston.”
“Windermere certainly needs work, doesn't it?” Kit asked, looking around the hall. It truly was as shabby and gloomy as she remembered it.
“Aye, that it does.”
“Are there weavers in town, Emma?” Kit asked as an idea presented itself.
“That there are, Your Grace,” Emma replied.
“And how about carpenters and masons?”
“Aye, we've got the lot.”
Kit knew Wolf was preoccupied with locating Philip, and she didn't know how much time that would take. The castle needed work, and Kit decided to begin the task herself. After all, she was perfectly capable of managing a household and felt confident that she could take on a task of this magnitude. Within the hour, Kit had Gilbert Juvet in the hall, helping her to decide how to go about procuring the goods and workmen to get the primary jobs done.
Philip hadn't had a steward in residence for several years, and Kit took it upon herself to begin an examination of Windermere's ledgers, which recorded the expenses and income from the lord's demesne and the various fees and rents from the town. By the time the men filtered into the hall and took their places for the evening meal, Kit had a good grasp of Windermere's financial state, and she had organized the initial phase of restoring order to Windermere Castle. In fact, several tradesmen from town were coming to meet with her after supper to discuss the specifics of her plan.
A small table was brought to Kit at the hearth both for her convenience and comfort, and the Juvet family joined her for the informal evening meal. Old Darby, a weatherworn soldier, came to serve them himself, and on Kit's bidding, sat with the mistress for a spell while she ate and joined in the discussion of the needed renovations.
Kit and her group were so preoccupied with their discussion that when Baron Robert Wellesley and his daughter entered the hall, she didn't notice them.
Mistress Hanchaw was aware of their presence, though, and guided the two to the main table on the dais, where the duke's and duchess' places were vacant.
“What? His grace is still absent?” Baron Wellesley demanded.
“How very disagreeable of him to stay away so long,” Lady Christine remarked petulantly.
“His grace, the duke, was here until noon, my lady,” the housekeeper responded as the baron and his daughter took their seats.
“Yes, but we had to leave so early to visit Baron Edward at Brington,” she complained, casting a dark glance toward her father, “I was certain the duke would be here to sup with us.”
“Yes, well, let's make the best of it, dau—”
“The best of it?” Christine demanded. “How is there to be any ‘best of it' without Sir Gerhart—his grace—present?”
Kit overheard most of the conversation and she cringed, well aware of the faux pas that had been committed. Nicholas had mentioned that the Wellesleys were guests at Windermere, and Kit had completely forgotten it. She knew it was terribly discourteous of her not to have acknowledged them, yet she'd ignored them so long already, the Wellesleys could easily construe her hesitation as a deliberate slight.
“Mistress Hanchaw,” Kit called. “Please have places set for Baron Wellesley and his daughter over here, near me,” she said firmly, conscious that the housekeeper had been aware of, yet done nothing to correct the faux pas. “It will not do for our guests to dine there on the dais when I am unable to join them.”
Blanche Hanchaw pursed her lips almost imperceptibly and returned to the dais. She ordered servants about, then led Robert and Christine Wellesley to Kit's table, not without some muttered protestations from Lady Christine who thought it suited her ill to be seated among servants and freemen from town.
“Please accept my apologies, I'm having some difficulty getting about...” Kit said warmly, inviting the castle guests to be seated. “I am Kathryn Colston—I believe we met here in spring...?”
“Ahem, ah...yes, Your Grace,” Baron Wellesley said, the first to recover from his surprise. He and his daughter had not been privy to the rumors that were rife among the servants, and weren't certain that what little they'd heard was factual.
“So, it's true, then?” Christine asked.
“Hush, Christine,” her father reprimanded, and Christine merely raised her chin stubbornly.
“Yes, it's true,” Kit replied to the beautiful redheaded woman. “We were attacked yesterday on the road, and I took a fall—”
Christine started to laugh, and her father's face reddened to the ears at his daughter's inappropriate response. Kit looked from one to the other and suddenly realized that she and the Wellesleys were discussing two very different things.
“Please forgive my daughter, Your Grace. She—er—well—”
“Yes, I...I see,” Kit said quietly, understanding her error immediately. “The duke and I were wed last month in London.”
There was a long pause at the table which verged on becoming uncomfortable. Finally, Christine Wellesley broke the silence, having regained her poise and control. “Pray, tell me how it feels to be injured in battle, Your Grace,” she said as she focused her eyes at Kit. “I've always been jealous of the men and their adventures in war.”
“It's vastly overrated,” Kit said with a wry smile. Though Lady Christine might never be a true friend, at least a truce had been called.
 
Nicholas pulled up a chair next to Kit and joined in the meal with her unusual group. She introduced him to her companions. “Nicholas, you may remember Baron Wellesley and his daughter, Christine, from our last visit to Windermere.”
He greeted them, then turned back to Kit. “Has Wolf not yet retumed?”
“No,” she replied, unnerved by his words. “I thought he was with you—only delayed—”
“No. Wolf headed east, I took the south.”
“Where could he be?” Kit asked as she clasped her hands in her lap, betraying the nervousness she had masked quite well up ‘til now. She'd thought of her husband at least a hundred times throughout the day and anxiously awaited his return.
“Don't worry, Kit,” Nicholas tried to reassure her. “All will be well. Your husband is more than capable of routing his unsavory cousin. But I don't expect they'll meet just yet. My hunch is that Philip won't be found very easily.”
“You can count on that,” Wellesley said. “I always had my suspicions about the earl. Struck me strange.”
“Strange, indeed,” Nicholas remarked. “Baron, you know this neighborhood better than we do. If you were Philip Colston, where would you hide?”
Robert Wellesley sat back in his chair and pondered the question. “Well,” he finally said. “Philip has always enjoyed hunting to the west of Windermere, near the caves along the coast. There is a lot of well-stocked woodland, and it is even rumored that one of the caves is arranged with lamps and furniture as well as a stocked larder for the earl's comfort.”
“So you believe he's hiding in his cave?”
“Not necessarily, but perhaps,” Wellesley said, frowning. “Philip is a secretive sort. I always sensed something about him when we stayed here at Windermere. That he was somehow skulking about even when he was said to be away...I don't know exactly...”
 
 
There had definitely been men living out in the forests. Wolf found plenty of evidence of it. But none of the men.
It was well after the evening meal when Wolf returned to Windermere castle. He had worried about Kit ever since he'd left, wondering if her bruises pained her much, if the swelling in her ankle had gone down, how she tolerated staying abed...
He intended to go directly to their chamber to see how she fared. His own meal and all of Windermere's other problems would have to wait until he could be sure Kit was safe and receiving the proper care. As he entered the great hall, Wolf vowed never to leave her side until all was well with her again. He chastised himself for leaving her all day so he could chase shadows in the forest. He should have let his men spend the day in the search without him—

Other books

Mira's Hope by Erin Elliott
Breaking All My Rules by Trice Hickman
A Slip in Time by Maggie Pearson
Keysha's Drama by Earl Sewell
Never Say Goodbye by Irene Hannon
Cataphilia by Caitlyn Willows
Steamy Sisters by Jennifer Kitt