It was only fair he know the truth.
“Henry is why you find me here, my lord,” he said, lowering his voice and spurring Dewi forward. In the same motion, he indicated for Matthew to follow him, and he did, swiftly. When the two of them came alongside one another, Trenton resumed. “There is simply no delicate way to phrase this, so I will come to the point. The first thing you must know is that Lysabel and the girls are well. They are not in any danger. But the second thing you should know is that Benoit de Wilde is dead.”
Matthew blinked rapidly a few times, the only indication of the astonishment and concern he felt. “Dead?” he repeated. “How?”
“I killed him.”
“Now,” Matthew said slowly and steadily. “Explain this to me so that there is no doubt in my mind as to what has happened, Trenton. Please.”
Trenton knew this question would come, especially after he told Matthew of his role in Benoit’s death and Matthew immediately shut his mouth and returned to the wagon bed where his daughter and granddaughters were. All the way into Wellesbourne’s enormous bailey, and all the while as Matthew’s wife and Lysabel’s mother, Alixandrea, greeted her daughter and grandchildren, Trenton knew the question would come from Matthew and he prepared his answer. While happiness and joy of a reunion went on around him, and Alixandrea took her girls into the castle, Matthew pulled Trenton into his private solar and shut the door.
Now, the question hung in the air between them.
Trenton was ready for it.
“In order to explain to you what happened, I must tell you something that you do not know,” he said. “At least, Lysabel does not think you know, so if you do not, then I am sorry to be the bearer of such news. Benoit de Wilde was a vile excuse for a human being; he beat your daughter. Henry sent me to Stretford Castle to abduct Benoit and take him to London because Benoit made the unfortunate mistake of stealing a mistress from Henry. Lysabel does not know this; I have not told her. But she does know that I killed Benoit.”
Matthew was staring at him with an expression between shock and rage. But still, he held fast. He was a master at the neutral expression. But the father in him, the one who was hearing such terrible things about his child for the first time, couldn’t quite hold back.
“I had heard rumor of Benoit’s whoring,” he finally said. “I am not totally ignorant of it.”
“And you did nothing?”
For the first time, Matthew started showing some emotion. “I had only heard of the women,” he said. “But the beating… my God, Trenton. Are you certain of this?”
Trenton took a deep breath. “The night we came to Stretford, we were met by a woman screaming,” he said quietly. “We could hear the blows. When we burst into Benoit’s chamber, it was clear he’d been beating the woman in the chamber, the woman I assumed to be his wife. It was not until Benoit was bound and gagged that I realized it was Lysabel. I was only supposed to take Benoit to Henry so that the king could decide on his punishment, but when I saw what Benoit had done to your daughter, I fully admit that I killed the man. I do not regret it.”
Matthew’s face had lost some of its color. After a moment, he sat heavily in the nearest chair, clearly stunned by the news. Then, in a true moment of shock, he put his hand over his face.
“God,” he whispered. “God in heaven. He truly… he truly did this? He took his hands to my child?”
Trenton could hear the devastation in his voice. “Aye,” he said. “It was not the first time, my lord. He has been beating her for years.”
Matthew’s head snapped up, tears of disbelief in his eyes. “That is not true. Please tell me that is not true.”
Trenton nodded with regret. “Ask her,” he said. “She told me it had been going on for years, ever since he realized he could not get his hands on any of the Wellesbourne fortune. When I asked her why she did not tell you, she said that she could not let you feel the guilt for having burdened her with such a man. She did not want you to know.”
Matthew stared at him, wide-eyed, as he realized what had truly been happening with his daughter. But the more he thought on it, the more the situation began to make some sense, and after several long moments, he let out a hiss. The clues over the years began to fall into place, whether or not he wanted to admit it.
Oh, God… he didn’t want to admit it!
“She was never allowed to come and visit,” he finally muttered, running a hand over his cropped head. “Benoit would invite us to Stretford, but only during the times that he was agreeable. We could never simply go unannounced; we tried, once, and were told that Benoit and my daughter were not in residence. The soldiers would not let us in, so we had to turn back for home. Now… now some of this is starting to make some sense.”
Trenton felt for the man. “He had to make sure that when you visited, there was no sign of what he did to your daughter,” he muttered. “She was afraid to tell you, afraid you’d kill the man and suffer from the guilt of it the rest of your life. But know that I harbor no such guilt; Benoit de Wilde was an animal and I have no restraint in killing an animal that deserves it.”
Matthew simply sat there for several long and painful moments, processing the situation, before returning his attention to Trenton.
“I do not even know what to say, Trenton,” he said hoarsely. “I feel like a fool, like I should have known this.”
Trenton shook his head. “There was no way you could have,” he replied. “Your daughter did not want you to know. She evidently hid it well.”
That seemed to hit Matthew particularly well, knowing she had hid her pain from him. Pain he had imposed upon her, like a prison sentence. “But I should have been more astute,” he said. “Surely… surely there were signs. Signs that I evidently ignored. I cannot live with myself if that is really the truth.”
Trenton reached out, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. “There was nothing you could have done,” he said. “But when I saw what was happening, I took action. You saved my father’s life, once. Consider the favor returned.”
Matthew sighed heavily, reaching up to grasp Trenton’s hand at his shoulder, holding it tightly. It was gratitude beyond words, for the man seemed incapable of speaking at the moment.
He was rattled to the bone.
“Benoit de Wilde seemed to be a very decent man when he courted Lysabel,” he said after a moment, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I have always prided myself on being a good judge of character, and I honestly had no reservations about him. He was kind to Lysabel and seemed quite fond of her. But right after they were married, the requests for money began to come, and the requests for Lysabel’s inheritance because he needed to expand his army. They were not unreasonable requests, but I was not prepared to give him such a great sum of money. After that… after that, communication became less frequent. Visits were friendly for the most part, but not as they had been before the marriage. When rumors of his whoring reached my ears, I confronted Benoit about them and he told me that it was none of my affair. God… I should have known it was more than that, but Lysabel never told me a thing. There was never even a hint.”
Trenton could see that he was kicking himself. “You must not blame yourself, my lord,” he said. “Lysabel is a strong woman, stronger than you know. She believed she could deal with the situation and that it was her cross to bear. Whatever the case, it is over with now.”
Matthew nodded faintly. “Is it?” he muttered. “For me, it has just begun. I must come to terms with what I’ve done to my beloved daughter. And I cannot tell my wife any of this; it will kill her.”
“Then what will you tell her about Benoit’s death?”
“I do not know yet.”
Trenton sat down in a chair opposite him. For the first time, he was seeing the age on Matthew’s face. In his sixth decade, he was, in fact, an old man. But Trenton had never realized that until this moment, until the situation with his eldest child suddenly aged him. Trenton hadn’t any fears that such news would take its toll on Matt
hew but, evidently, it had.
He could see it in the man’s face.
“It is not as if his death can be hidden,” Trenton said quietly. “There is no longer a Sheriff of Ilchester and Lysabel wanted me to escort her to Wellesbourne to seek your counsel. None of the Ilchester men, save Markus de Aston, know that Benoit is dead. Even Markus does not know that I killed Benoit.”
That name brought Matthew’s head up. “Markus?” he repeated. “I sent him to Stretford those years ago, Trenton. Surely he knew of what Benoit was doing to my daughter.”
Trenton didn’t want to incriminate Markus, but there wasn’t much he could say to deny it. “He swore an oath to de Wilde,” he said. “He kept his nose out of the man’s personal business, and for good reason. A man like de Wilde could ruin a knight with just a few words, and he would be believed because he is the Sheriff of Ilchester. Markus did what he had to do in order to survive. You cannot blame him for that.”
From the expression on Matthew’s face, it was clear that he understood that perspective for the most part. Knights were duty-bound, and they did not question their liege. But the good and moral man in him wrestled with it.
“Mayhap,” he said. “But what would have been the tipping point for him to stand up and protect an innocent woman? When my daughter is killed? Then how much would he have minded his own business?”
Trenton didn’t have an answer. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “What I do know is that Lysabel lied to him and told him that she killed Benoit in self-defense, presumably to protect me. All concerns of Markus de Aston aside, it is Lysabel who needs your advice in how to handle this matter.”
Matthew sighed heavily and sat back in his chair, thoughts of Lysabel, Trenton, Benoit, and now Markus whirling through his head. He was trying not to feel the rage that threatened to consume him, but rather focus on his daughter and her needs. For her sake, he had to remain calm and consider the serious issues at hand.
But it was a struggle.
“It is quite a quandary, no doubt,” he said. “Ilchester was a hereditary title, one passed through the males in the de Wilde family. But since he and my daughter have no sons, his girls become his heiresses.”
“Then you can hold the title in trust until one of them marries and it passes to their husband?”
Matthew nodded, deep in thought. “I believe so,” he said. “But I must consult with Henry on the matter. He knows that Benoit is dead?”
“He knows.”
“Then I should go to London to see him. I would like you to go with me.”
“It would be my honor.”
Matthew paused. Now that the shock of the situation had settled, he was more aware than ever of Trenton’s role in all of this. “Thank you, Trenton,” he said quietly. “For all you have done… thank you.”
After that, there wasn’t much more to say. Trenton got the impression that the man was eager to see his daughter now, perhaps to see for himself that she was safe and whole, and to forget for a time what he’d been told.
A great deal had been discussed, and dirty business revealed, and, in truth, Trenton didn’t want to talk about it anymore, not even to Matthew. He found that even telling the man what had happened to Lysabel caused his blood to boil.
And, like her father, he found that he wanted to see her.
The feasting hall of Wellesbourne Castle was a massive, two-storied thing with a minstrel’s gallery against the north side of it. Great banners of the House of Wellesbourne and her allies hung from the gallery, including a banner from the House of de Russe.
Trenton had recognized the proud black and gray banner with his father’s dragon on it and he’d stood there a moment, gazing up at it, and thinking of his father probably more than he’d thought of the man in a very long time. He loved his father desperately and seeing Matthew again, and knowing how close the men were, made him feel the pain of their estrangement more than ever. What was going on between them was foolish and complicated.
He wished very much that they were on speaking terms.
He tried to push aside the sorrow he was feeling as he sat in the feasting hall and watched Matthew with his two granddaughters. The girls were happy to see him; even Cynethryn, the reserved one, wasn’t so reserved when it came to her grandfather. One of the first things the girls spoke of was their new ponies, pointing to Trenton and telling Matthew that Trenton had given them the ponies. While Trenton seemed embarrassed by the attention, Matthew simply laughed. He hugged his granddaughters, listening to their chatter, as Lysabel sat with her mother further down the table.
Alixandrea, Countess of Hereford, was about her daughter’s size and shape, with the same lovely bronze hair that she kept pulled into a bun at the back of her head. Even though she was middle aged, there was hardly a line on her face, and when she smiled, she reminded Trenton very much of Lysabel.
They had the same smile.
The women invited Trenton to come and sit with them, but he begged off, feeling very much as if he were intruding on a family reunion. In fact, after he finished eating, he excused himself from the table with talk of seeing to Dewi. He worried for the horse when he was in an unfamiliar place.
Matthew let him go without question.
But Trenton didn’t make it to the stable right away. He left the great hall and ended up in the bailey, gazing up at the clear night sky and seeing a million stars spread across the blackness, as if a great and mighty hand had taken a handful of diamonds and tossed them across the heavens.
But even as he looked up at the sky, his thoughts were on Lysabel.
He’d told Anthony, Timothy, and Adrian that he would meet them at The Horn and The Crown tavern in Westbury in three weeks, and he was already about a week into that time span. Ten more days and he’d have to head to Westbury, and from Westbury he would have to return to London. He tried to imagine that time when he would leave Lysabel, but he honestly couldn’t.
He was greatly distressed in that he didn’t want to leave her.
Certainly, she was safe now. There was no question of that. She was with her father and he would make sure she was taken care of, always, so his original intention in going to Stretford, to see to the welfare of an old friend, had come to fruition. He’d done what he’d set out to do – to ensure Lysabel was well and safe.
But what he hadn’t counted on was the door to another world that had opened to him, a world of little girls whose only goal in life was to have a pony, and a woman he’d once known as a long-legged child who had grown up into a woman of strength and beauty like he’d never seen before. It was a world of laughter, of kindness, and of all the things he’d never before experienced. He felt as if he’d been living in a cave and had suddenly emerged into a wonderful, new world.
It was a world he didn’t want to leave.
Depression swamped him. He was heading for the stables, but he caught sight of Lady Audrey’s garden off to the right, a walled garden named for Matthew’s mother. Everyone knew that Lady Audrey’s garden was a magical place, a place of peace and beauty, and Trenton found himself heading for it as if his feet had a life of their own. At the moment, he simply needed to think. Pulling open the old iron gate, which squealed appropriately as it was moved, he stepped inside.
Even though it was a fairly bright night, as the moon was nearly three-quarters, he couldn’t see too terribly much in the garden, but he could certainly smell the blooms. Almost immediately to his right was a stone bench and he sat heavily, thinking of the things he wanted and the things he could never have.
This was all his life was ever going to be.
No love, no children, no heirs.
He wasn’t going to have a child with Adela, mostly because she couldn’t stand the sight of him and he certainly couldn’t stand the sight of her, so a coupling was out of the question even though she was his wife. He had touched her one time, and one time only, and that had been on their wedding night. After that, she screamed every time he came near her an
d after a week of screaming, he’d left his home of Penleigh and had headed on to London.
He thought that was all he was ever going to know when it came to a woman until that night he broke into Benoit de Wilde’s chamber.
Trenton’s gaze trailed up to the stars again, as if he could find his answers there. Was there some invisible wisdom to help him through this, to tell him that he needed to leave Wellesbourne and forget about Lysabel Wellesbourne de Wilde? He knew what he needed to do, but after that sweet kiss Lysabel had given him last night in the tavern, he couldn’t seem to do it. That small gesture had branded him.
He was still hating himself because of it.
The garden gate suddenly creaked again, catching his attention, and he turned to see Lysabel entering. Oh, God, he thought. A romantic, moonlit night and a woman he found increasingly hard to resist.
This wasn’t going to end well.
Quickly, he stood up.
“Why is it you find me every time I’m trying to find solitude?” he scolded, although it was lightly done. “Last night in the inn, tonight in the garden. Can you read my mind so brilliantly that you know where I am going and what I am thinking, always?”
She grinned. He could see her white teeth in the moonlight. “I am sorry to disappoint you,” she said. “The soldiers told me that they had seen you come in here. Am I intruding, then?”
He nodded, saw her expression fall, and then shook his head and laughed. “Of course you are not intruding,” he said, gesturing to the bench. “Sit down. I was simply gazing up at the stars.”
Lysabel moved towards the bench but she didn’t sit. “My mother sent me here, you know,” she said. “She felt bad that you left the feasting hall. She wants you to know that you are most welcome to remain.”
“I know that.”
“She thought you might have felt awkward because it was only family sitting at the table.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I have been told since I was a child that I am part of the Wellesbourne family.”
She laughed softly. “You are,” she said. “My mother wanted to make sure you remembered that.”