But that wasn’t entirely true.
There was a greater part of him that didn’t want the shame of having a traitor for a wife, so until he could decide how to deal with Grier, it was best to keep up the façade that she was simply ill and had taken to her bed. That was the story he would maintain. At the moment, he considered this a family problem, and a family problem it would remain.
“That is not necessary,” he said after a moment. “I am here, as are Willie and Boden. We can accomplish whatever needs to be done, so do not worry. It is more important that you be with your family. Syler deserves that respect.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am.”
Charlisa looked to Dastan, who nodded his head to confirm Dane’s words. It was their duty to take Syler home, so Charlisa relented. She wasn’t happy about it, but she relented.
“Will you tell Lady de Russe that I will pray for her good health, then?” she said. “I am so very sorry I cannot bid her farewell in person.”
Dane smiled weakly. “She is sorry, too,” he said. “Godspeed, my lady. Safe travels.”
With a bittersweet smile, Charlisa was forced to say her farewells to Dane and turn for the carriage as her husband moved in to help her climb into it. Dane stood back as Dastan and William helped both Charlisa and Laria into the fortified carriage, a wooden and iron cab built specifically to securely transport women and children.
It was a Shrewsbury cab, an older wagon that had spent all day yesterday with the wheelwright so he could fix the axles and shore up the wheels. It hadn’t been used in a couple of decades, at least, but this morning, it was fresh and ready to traverse the bumpy roads to Wales.
Dane could only imagine that the cab, at one time, had transported Grier and her mother in days gone by. It was yet another thing to remind him of her. He watched Dastan secure the cab, silently observing as William went back to the flatbed wagon to ensure that Syler’s coffin was secure. He tested the ropes one last time, which had been tested already by Dastan, Boden, and even Dane, all of them making sure Syler was secure for his final trip home.
As Dane’s gaze lingered on the coffin, he couldn’t help the guilt he felt, knowing how the man had died. Knowing that Grier had a hand in the man’s death was something Dane didn’t ever think he’d shake. He’d spent the past two days agonizing over it, alternately enraged at Grier and then wondering if he’d been unfair about it. She’d denied any involvement, swearing to God, and the truth was that Dane had some doubt. But the evidence was overwhelming, in his opinion. Even as the escort pulled out, and the fortified cab moved past him, followed by the wagon bearing Syler’s coffin, all Dane could think about was Grier.
The entire situation had him in knots.
“How is your lady wife?”
The question came from Boden, who had walked up to stand beside him. Dane glanced at his brother.
“She is ill,” he said.
“Have you at least sent for a physic?” Boden pressed. “It has been a couple of days, has it not? Mayhap, she needs to see a physic.”
Dane simply shook his head. “She will heal.”
That was all he said, but Boden knew he was lying. He knew something was wrong, although he didn’t know what, exactly, it was.
Something serious was amiss.
Lady de Russe’s mysterious affliction had started when Boden had handed Dane the letter that the old serving woman had given him, and he had been there when Dane had read it and then fled into the keep. In fact, he’d followed him. But once Dane had located Grier, he’d slammed the door in Boden’s face and through the thick door, Boden hadn’t been able to hear much of the conversation, but he had heard the tones – Dane’s threatening growl and Grier’s hysterical sobs.
Something was happening.
Boden had been very concerned, but he wasn’t sure it was any of his business. If Dane had wanted him to know, he would have told him, so Boden reluctantly headed out of the keep, only to stop near the entry when the door to the duchess’ solar flew open and Dane appeared, dragging Grier out by her wrist.
Grier had been weeping deeply as Dane continued to drag her up the stairs in a stone-cold manner that had shocked Boden. He’d never seen his brother behave so. Dane was always the congenial one, always the tactful one, so to see him treating his wife with such anger was completely out of character for him.
And no one had seen Lady de Russe since that unhappy incident.
Therefore, Boden was more solicitous than he usually was. Something was terribly wrong with Dane and he wanted to know what it was. As Dane began to walk away, William came up beside Boden.
“If the weather holds, they should make it in a less than two days,” he said.
Boden’s mind was still on Dane, his gaze lingering on his brother. “What are you talking about?”
“Dastan’s party,” William clarified. “If the weather holds, they should make good time. The roads are not too terrible this time of year.”
Boden nodded, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. William peered at him. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded.
Boden looked at him, knowing he’d been distracted. He was torn between giving William a truthful answer or a benign lie. He settled for the truth. William may have been foolish, but he was a trustworthy fool, and a smart one.
Boden had no one else to turn to.
“I think we have a problem, Willie,” he said quietly, his gaze lingering on Dane as the man made his way towards the keep.
William frowned. “What problem?”
Boden turned to him. “Swear to me this goes no further.”
“I swear it.”
Boden believed him, but he was still hesitant. It was difficult to put his concerns into words. He didn’t want to sound like a worrisome old woman.
“Two days ago, I was at the gatehouse when I was approached by Lady de Russe’s maid,” he began. “You know the woman we picked up in Welshpool? The old cow with the yellow teeth? The woman handed me a letter that she said was written by the duchess. She told me to make all due haste to give it to Dane. Before I could question her further, she disappeared out of the gates and lost herself in the town. So, I went to find Dane and gave him the letter. The look on his face when he read it… Willie, I cannot describe it. I have never seen an expression like that in my entire life.”
William was greatly intrigued. “What happened?”
Boden threw up a hand in exasperation. “He ran into the keep,” he said. “He was hunting for Lady de Russe and when he found her, she was in one of the smaller solars. I think it is the one the chatelaine uses. As I went to follow him into the chamber, he slammed the door in my face and all I could hear was his threatening tone and Lady de Russe’s sobs. The last I saw of her, Dane was dragging her up to their chamber, and no one has seen her for two days. Willie… I know Dane would never hurt the woman, but…”
William was beside himself with concern and dismay. “Of course he would not,” he hissed. “But you must have some concern about it if you are so worried about all of this. Why would you ever think Dane could hurt a woman?”
Boden sighed heavily. “You would not know this, but Dane’s father by blood was an abuser,” he said, lowering his voice. “I have heard tale of him. Guy Stoneley was a bastard of a man. He beat Dane’s mothers and aunts, from what I have been told, and did even worse things to them. He was a horrible excuse for a man, and he was alive until Dane was seven or eight years old. Until my father came into Dane’s life, Guy was the only example Dane had. Although I cannot believe Dane would ever raise a hand to a woman, his father had that vicious streak in him. It is possible that Dane does, too, only he has never given in to it. What I saw… what I heard… with Lady de Russe concerns me greatly.”
Now William was filled with the same apprehension riddling Boden. “What do we do?”
Boden glanced up at the keep, up at the windows of the very room where Lady de Russe was supposed to be. After a moment, he simply
shook his head.
“I do not know what happened, but I do know that we cannot stand by if Lady de Russe is in need of help,” he said. “I have been thinking to ask Dane what is amiss to see if I can help. Something is horribly wrong and if I can help, I want to. While I speak with Dane, mayhap you can slip into the keep and knock on the door of the master’s chamber. See if Lady de Russe even answers you.”
William’s expression was full of anxiety. “And if she does not?”
Boden sighed heavily. “I do not know,” he said. “Let me see if I can get to the bottom of this with Dane, but if I cannot, we may have to send for my father. I do not know what else to do.”
William shook his head. “But your father is ill, Boden,” he said. “Traveling will be very difficult for him.”
“Then we send for your father,” Boden said. “I will send for Uncle Matthew. And Trenton, too. Mayhap, Trenton can help if we cannot. He and Dane have always been extremely close. In any case, I intend to speak to Dane about it now. While I have him occupied, see if you can get an answer from Lady de Russe.”
William nodded firmly. “I will.”
“And do not let Dane know that I have told you any of this. It is best if he thinks you are ignorant.”
William grinned that impish, flashy grin he was so famous for. “That will not be difficult. I am the ignorant sort.”
“God only knows how true that is.”
It looked as if it was about to turn into fisticuffs, as it so often did with the pair, but Boden broke down in snorts and William slapped him on the head in an affectionate gesture. Together, the two of them headed for the keep, anticipating what was to come between the Duke of Shrewsbury and his lady wife.
In truth, neither one of them was particularly eager to get at the truth.
But it had to be done.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The ale was going down smoothly, as smoothly as anything Dane had ever imbibed. Ale that reminded him of Grier with every sip, every swallow, because he could only think of the night when drinking the ale in the hall had gotten her drunk.
That was when he’d seen how eager to please she was.
Grier had been trying so hard to make the men happy, to be a fitting tribute to the Shrewsbury name even if she hated the father she was representing. So much of the woman’s life had been tragic, proven by the scars on her back and by her slender, starved body. Not that Dane had ever doubted those stories from her.
He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t bring himself to believe her now.
Perhaps, it was because this story involved another man.
Perhaps, that was the crux of it; he was jealous and he had no idea how to deal with it. He was sitting in Garreth’s former solar, a solar that had always belonged to the duke since the time the keep was built. Dane sat back in his chair, looking at the paneled walls, the lavish furnishing, the precious glass in the windows. Generations of de Laras had sat in this very chair, conducting the business of Shrewsbury, building it into one of the most respected titles in England.
But the de Lara males had died out, and now it belonged to a de Russe. Dane very much wanted to be worthy of the position and he always believed he would be. But what he hadn’t counted on was falling for the heiress, the very key to the entire dukedom.
He was glad that Dastan and Charlisa were gone. Dastan had been here for years and he didn’t want the man to see his shame or witness his downfall. He wanted, and needed, the man’s respect. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade of his wife’s illness too much longer. People were going to start talking, and if she was still “ill” when Dastan and Charlisa returned, then Dane’s credibility would surely be called into question.
Therefore, Dane needed to deal with this situation and deal with what his wife had done. He was thinking that he needed to send word to his father or his brother, Trenton. Perhaps, they could help him sort through all of this, for God only knew, he needed help.
A knock on the solar door roused him. He wasn’t particularly interested in speaking to anyone, but before he could tell them to go away, Boden stepped into the chamber.
“Dane?” he said. “Might I have a word with you?”
Dane sighed heavily, motioning his brother in. “Come,” he said. “Drink with me.”
Boden came into the solar, with its fine leather chairs and expensive carpet all the way from Italy. He noticed the half-full pitcher of ale on Dane’s table, reminding him that his brother had been drinking fairly heavily since the incident with his wife.
“What are you drinking?” he asked.
“Ale. What else?”
“Watered?”
“Of course not.”
Boden shook his head. “It is a little early to be drinking ale that has not been watered or cut, don’t you think?”
Dane’s answer was to pour more into his cup, unhappy with what he perceived as criticism. “What do you want?”
Boden could already see this was going to be a difficult conversation and he braced himself. He was taller than Dane, and perhaps even stronger, but Dane was as fast as a cat and twice as deadly. He didn’t want to get into a confrontation with him. Wrestling with William was one thing, but fighting Dane because he’d upset the man was entirely another. Therefore, he moved out of arm’s length of Dane and into the man’s line of sight. He had something to say and he was going to say it without fear of flying fists.
“Dane, I am concerned,” he said.
“What about?”
“You,” Boden said simply. “You and your wife. You will recall that I was the one who gave you the letter from your wife’s servant, who has since disappeared. No one has seen the woman. And now your wife has not been seen since I gave you that letter and you are telling everyone she is ill. Dane, I am your brother. I love you and I am concerned with what has happened. Will you let me help you?”
Dane was staring off into the chamber, his gaze not really focusing on anything. Taking a long swig of ale, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I appreciate your concern,” he said, “but there is nothing you can do.”
Boden didn’t sense outright hostility, so he moved a little closer. “Dane,” he hissed, trying to get his brother’s rather distracted attention. “What has happened? Please tell me.”
Dane looked up at Boden, who was looking at him with genuine concern in his eyes. Boden, who was headstrong and foolish at times, but an excellent knight. All of Dane’s brothers were excellent knights, but Boden had in him something that, if brought out with experience and training, could be truly great.
That was why Dane had brought Boden to Shrewsbury – he believed in Boden’s greatness – and it had been Boden who had been commanding the battlements and the outer bailey. He may have been young, for he was a full twelve years younger than Dane’s forty years, but he was wise beyond those years.
He was also family. Dane was determined to keep his problem with Grier to himself, but the ale was loosening his tongue. Perhaps if he confided in Boden, he would be keeping the issue with Grier in the family, and the man might help him see clearly in the situation. In truth, he had no one else he could turn to.
“I fear we have a traitor among us, Boden,” he finally said. “I should not have trusted her.”
Boden’s brow furrowed. “Who?” he asked.
“Lady de Russe.”
“Your wife?”
Dane nodded, looking at the table in front of him. It was cluttered with maps, parchment, an open writing box, and ink that was in danger of spilling. He shuffled a couple of things around until he came to a badly distorted piece of parchment, which he held up to his brother.
“Read it,” he said simply.
Boden took it hesitantly, noticing that, when folded, it looked like the letter he’d given Dane, the one that was written by the duchess. Curious, Boden began to read, which he finished quickly because there wasn’t much there. Truthfully, it didn’t clarify the situation for him on
e bit.
“What is this?” he asked. “And who is Eolande?”
Dane was starting at his cup, deep in thought. “The sister of Davies ap Madoc, the same bastard who conducted the raid on the marketplace three days ago. She is an oblate at St. Idloes.”
Boden’s brow furrowed. “Is this what your wife wrote?”
“Aye.”
Boden looked back at the careful writing. “I don’t understand. Why does she want to arrange a meeting with ap Madoc?”
It occurred to Dane that Boden knew nothing about ap Madoc’s quest to marry Grier. Both he and Syler hadn’t been present at the tavern in Welshpool when William and Dastan spoke of the subject, so he had no idea who Davies ap Madoc was, other than he was involved in the raid that took Syler’s life. He sought to educate him so the man could see what he was seeing in the carefully scripted letters of that missive.
“Davies ap Madoc is part of Godor, a Welsh lordship that once belonged to Dafydd ap Gruffydd,” he said. “The lords that rule over it are minor Welsh royalty. Their lands butt against the northern portion of Shrewsbury lands. Two years ago, Davies approached Garreth about a marriage to Grier but he was denied. When I asked my wife about it, she swore she had no feelings for the man, but the Welsh prisoner we interrogated told us that Davies had come to Shrewsbury not simply to raid the marketplace, but to kill the duke. According to the prisoner, Davies evidently believed he killed me when Syler fell. Is this making any sense to you so far?”
Boden hadn’t heard the part about the marriage offer. He always seemed to be on the fringes when Dane was interrogating prisoners or dealing with important affairs. He was more of a follower than a leader, and lived under the assumption that if Dane wanted him to know anything, he would tell him. Now, he was telling him, and Boden was shocked, and he was starting to understand what had Dane so upset.
“Do you think that your wife has knowledge of the raid, then?” he asked, holding up the letter. “Is that why she is sending missives demanding to meet with ap Madoc?”