With their attention still on the fire that was rapidly spreading, Dane began to head towards his horse, pulling Cort along with him. They ended up running to their animals just as some of the Breton soldiers in the courtyard began to see what was going on. As they rushed for the house, Cort and Dane vaulted onto their steeds and headed for the open gatehouse, pausing to watch as the fire spread over the upper floor. They could see it through the windows, with smoke pouring out and fingers of flame licking at the walls.
The guests at Adela’s party were alerted to something being very wrong as the hall deep in the house filled with smoke. Dane knew the layout of the house – beyond the entry was a large gathering room and then beyond that, a great dining hall. They could hear the screams of party guests as they tried to get clear of the heavy smoke, which was filling the house at an alarming rate. It wasn’t so much that the flames were blocking their exit; it was simply that the heavy smoke was overwhelming them.
Dane and Cort continued to watch from the gatehouse as the house was overrun by the flames, and they saw one man emerge from the entry and collapse on the dirt of the courtyard with his clothing smoking. Perhaps they should have gone to help him, but considering how much hatred Adela had brought about, neither one of them made a move. Especially Dane. In his view, this was rightness served.
“Should we try to help, Dane?” Cort finally asked.
Dane didn’t reply for a moment. When he did, it was to shake his head. “Nay,” he muttered. “That woman wished our brother was dead. You heard her; she was hoping for it. You heard all of the vile things she said about our brother and our family. Were we burning, she would have laughed and cheered. Therefore, I will not help, not even a little. Let her evil die in those flames and consider it God’s good justice.”
Cort didn’t disagree with him, but it was the chivalrous knight in him, the one with the strong sense of duty, that had asked the question. Yet, the brother in him agreed with Dane completely.
Let her evil die.
They could hear screams as floors collapsed. And as the flames shot up into the night sky, they remained there until the entire top portion of the house collapsed and no one save a few Breton soldiers and the man with the smoking clothing made it out alive.
For Dane and Cort, they watched until there was nothing left to see, until Penleigh House was a giant bonfire burning brightly into the night. There was a sense of finality to it, of cleansing, and as Dane said, of justice. The wickedness and hatred that had filled the halls of Penleigh House were being purged, never to rise again. They’d come to do anything they could to save their brother from his horror of a wife, to somehow bring the tormented man some healing, but in the end, Adela’s wicked actions had brought about her own demise.
And no one was sorry for it.
Before the night was out, Dane and Cort were heading to Wellesbourne Castle.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Wellesbourne Castle
“My lord, you summoned me?”
Ranse was standing in Matthew’s solar, arriving swiftly at his lord’s summons, as Matthew knew he would.
He had a particular reason for summoning him this morning.
Trenton was still at Wellesbourne. Matthew knew that because Gaston, and Alixandrea, had told him, but Alixandrea had also told him that Lysabel had turned Trenton away when the man had begged her to run off with him. Astounded, Matthew had listened to his wife relay the tale her daughter had told her, how Trenton had begged her to leave with him, and how Lysabel, for the sake of family honor, had refused.
Truth be told, Matthew was shocked to hear it. Shocked, but deeply relieved for his daughter’s sake. It was as if a massive weight had been lifted off of him. He honestly hadn’t known if Lysabel would make the right choice, but it turned out she had. The right choice for her, and for all of them.
But one that broke Trenton’s heart.
That’s what Gaston had told him, anyway. Trenton was holed up in his father’s chamber, and since the previous night had ingested at least three big pitchers of wine. As of this morning, he was sleeping off his drinking binge, which was why Matthew had summoned Ranse.
He had to move quickly in this situation. He felt rather subversive about it, but he had little choice. Better to move on with his plans to betroth Lysabel while Trenton was incapacitated, before the man sobered and perhaps made another try at convincing Lysabel to run away with him. He wasn’t so sure his devastated daughter would be as strong the second time around.
Therefore, this conversation with Ranse had to take place now.
“I did,” Matthew said after a moment. “Please close the door.”
Ranse did as he was told, closing the solar door and then going to stand before Matthew rather formally.
Matthew’s gaze moved over the man. Ranse had been with him for a few years and was a solid, dedicated, and talented knight. He was also obedient to a fault. Matthew barely had to lift a finger with Ranse around because the man anticipated him in almost everything. He was so proactive that even William, the ne’er-do-well son, had noticed and teased Ranse endlessly about it. Whenever Matthew would come around Ranse, William would start whistling to the knight as if he were a dog. He called Ranse the “guard dog” because of his obedience to Matthew, but it was all in good fun. The truth was that William admired Ranse a great deal, and as the only Wellesbourne son remaining at Wellesbourne to serve his father, he had learned quite a bit from Kenilworth Castle-trained de Troyes.
He was a good man.
Therefore, Matthew had no qualms about making him one of the family. He only hoped Ranse felt the same way.
“Ranse, you have been with me for several years now,” he said after a moment. “I hope it has been as good a relationship for you as it has been for me.”
Ranse nodded smartly. “It has, my lord,” he said. Then, he added, “When William isn’t annoying me.”
Matthew started to laugh. “That cannot be helped,” he said. “He annoys everyone. It is the unfortunate part of your job.”
Ranse fought off a smile. “I jest with you, my lord,” he said. “William is the life of Wellesbourne. Without him, it would be a sad and dull place. Present company excluded, of course.”
Matthew waved him off. “I agree with you completely,” he said. “Your patience with my youngest has been much appreciated. You do like it here, don’t you?”
“Aye, my lord. It is my home.” Suddenly, he looked at Matthew with some trepidation. “Are… are you considering sending me away, my lord? Is that why you are asking?”
Matthew shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “Sit down, Ranse. I must speak with you.”
Quickly, Ranse found a chair and sat on it, stiffly, his gaze on Matthew still full of trepidation in spite of Matthew’s reassurance that he wasn’t about to send the man away. Matthew went to sit across the table from him, his expression pensive.
“What I am about to tell you must not leave this room, at least for now,” he said quietly, seriously. “You must hold it in the strictest confidence. Is that clear?”
“It is, my lord.”
Matthew sat forward, his hand on the table, thinking how to phrase everything. He’d been thinking about it all night but, now, the time was upon him and he had to put his thoughts into words. He proceeded carefully.
“You know that we were all greatly saddened by the passing of your wife last year,” he said quietly. “Her death affected Lady Wellesbourne greatly.”
Ranse’s formal manner took a bit of hit, but he did nothing more than take a deep breath and force a smile. “I know, my lord,” he said. “Lady Wellesbourne was at my wife’s side during the birth. I have taken great comfort in the fact that she was holding my wife’s hand when she passed on.”
Matthew nodded, remembering that bleak point in time. Alixandrea had cried for two days afterwards. “Serving me as you have, we tend to look at you as part of the family, but the truth is that you are not; not really.” He paused. “H
ave you thought about remarrying, Ranse?”
Ranse seemed to falter a bit. “Nay,” he said honestly. “I was happy with my wife. I’ve no wish to replace her.”
Matthew considered that. He sat back in his chair, his focus intense on Ranse. “I am asking you these questions for a reason, Ranse,” he said. “There is something you should know. Benoit de Wilde is dead. The circumstances of his death are not important, but what is important is that my daughter is involved in it. The circumstances were beyond her control, believe me. As I have come to discover, de Wilde beat my daughter for years. He seriously abused her, and she is only now starting to heal. It is a good thing de Wilde is dead, for if he wasn’t, I would kill him.”
Ranse’s eyes were filled with both shock and disgust. “The blackheart,” he muttered. “I had no idea.”
“No one did.”
“But Lady de Wilde seems well,” Ranse said, hope in his voice. “I have seen her several times since her arrival here and she seems very well.”
Matthew nodded. “She is,” he said. “As I said, she is healing, but I believe a strong and kind man will help her with that process, a process that no woman should have to go through alone. She is an heiress, you know. When I die, my eldest son, James, will inherit my titles and lands, but Lysabel will inherit Rosehill Manor in London. It has been in my family for many years and it is a very wealthy inheritance that includes the Syon Lordship, which is from my maternal grandmother. In any case, Lysabel brings a good deal with her to any marriage and would be a fine match for any man.”
Ranse was nodding until he began to realize that Matthew might mean him. But then he thought he was imagining things because even though he was from a fine family, as the House of de Troyes was a powerful family around Bolton, north of Manchester, the fact remained that Ranse was the third son of Lord Tottington, a very powerful warlord affiliated with the Earls of Carlisle. He’d grown up having to fight for everything he had against two aggressive older brothers, which is why he loved Wellesbourne so much – he was a man all his own, without having to submit to two older brothers who only wanted to kill each other for the Tottington fortune. He’d grown up believing he was subservient to the rest of his family.
So, clearly, Lord Wellesbourne couldn’t mean him.
… could he?
“I believe she would be, my lord,” he agreed after a moment’s pause. “She and her daughters would be a fine tribute to any man.”
“She is pregnant with her third child. Benoit’s child.”
Ranse’s eyebrows lifted, but only for a brief moment. “I see,” he said. “But it is of no matter. The man she marries can simply raise the child as his own, better still if it is a son.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Matthew said. “Ranse, I would like to offer you my daughter’s hand in marriage. I would like to see you become part of the Wellesbourne family, and when she inherits Rosehill, you will make a fine Lord Syon. Is there any reason why you cannot accept this offer?”
Ranse thought that he was prepared for the offer. He wasn’t. In fact, he did something at that moment that, under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have done. He stood up and turned his back to Matthew, pacing away from the man, pondering the extremely generous and attractive offer he’d just been made.
He was shocked.
“Nay, there is not,” he finally said, turning to look at Matthew. “But how does Lady de Wilde feel about it?”
Matthew stood up. “She does not know,” he said. “I have not yet told her. I thought to seal the contract with you before telling her. She does not know you, Ranse, but you are a likable man. I know you will endear yourself to her and her children, with time. But know… know that she has some personal issues, all relating to the death of Benoit. It will take her time to overcome them, but I am certain that with your help, she can.”
Ranse nodded, wondering very seriously what those issues were. “My lord, since you have asked me to marry the woman, will you tell me how Lord de Wilde died? I feel as if I have a right to know this. You said she was involved – did she kill him?”
Matthew shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Trenton de Russe killed him when he caught him beating Lysabel.”
This time, Ranse couldn’t keep the shock off his face. “Is that why de Russe escorted her to Wellesbourne?”
“Aye. He brought Lysabel home and remained to make sure she was well. He is an old family friend, you know. His concern was not unusual.”
Ranse nodded quickly. “Of course not,” he said. “It was quite chivalrous of him to do so.”
Matthew wanted off the subject of Trenton. To tell Ranse the reality of the situation between Lysabel and Trenton might very well make the man refuse the marital contract and, in this case, Matthew felt it was important not to tell him. Lysabel had rejected Trenton, so whatever existed between them was finished. Ranse didn’t need to know about something that didn’t concern him.
At least, he hoped that was the case.
Alixandrea had voiced her concern about the betrothal, telling Matthew that it wasn’t fair to put Ranse in the middle of the lovers, but Matthew had to believe that whatever had flared between Trenton and Lysabel was over with. His daughter had rejected the man, and if there was an ounce of honor in Trenton, he wouldn’t cause trouble. Matthew was thankful that Gaston was at Wellesbourne to curb his son should the need arise.
But whatever happened, Matthew had to do what was best for his daughter.
And this was the best.
“Trenton is a good man,” he said after a moment. “But the fact remains that my daughter is in need of a husband, and you are in need of wife. I realize it is a great deal to ask of a man to accept a woman, her two children, and a pregnancy, but I hope you will consider it. I can think of no better man to entrust my daughter to.”
Unaware of Matthew’s inner turmoil, and the real reason behind the betrothal, Ranse had no reason not to consider everything. It was true that the Syon Lordship was attractive, but the most attractive part of the deal was Lysabel herself. She was a beautiful woman and her daughters were adorable. Ranse knew he could become quite attached to them, and he thought that, perhaps, God was behind this offer of marriage because He knew how badly Ranse wanted to be a father. His one and only chance at it had ended in tragedy, and although he’d told Matthew that he hadn’t considered remarrying, that wasn’t entirely true. He had.
Perhaps, this offer was God making amends to him.
It was something Ranse couldn’t refuse.
“I have considered it, my lord,” he said. “I see no reason to refuse. I am deeply honored by your offer and most happily accept.”
Matthew almost collapsed with relief. “Are you sure? You do not want more time to think about it?”
“I am sure, my lord.”
Matthew sighed, very grateful for the swift decision. “Good,” he said. “I am quite pleased, Ranse, and I know Lysabel will be pleased, also, when I tell her. Until then, not a word to anyone, please. I must speak to my daughter about this first.”
Ranse nodded. “Of course, my lord,” he said. Then, he paused a moment, hesitant when he spoke. “I know that you are aware that my father is Lord Tottington. You may also be aware that I have two older brothers who will inherit everything when my father passes away. My family has never been close, my lord. Not at all. In the time I have been at Wellesbourne Castle, I have felt closer to you and your family than I have ever felt to my own. Now, to be part of that family is truly an answer to prayer. I want to be somewhere where I belong.”
Matthew smiled at the man. “You belong here,” he said. “We all think a great deal of you, Ranse. When you marry Lysabel, you will officially become one of us and we are most happy to have you.”
Ranse smiled at the man, a smile that bespoke of the joy in his heart. Finally, he would be someplace where people would love and respect him.
He would be home.
As Ranse left the solar and headed out to attend to his dutie
s, it was with a joyful heart, but as Matthew remained in his solar, thinking on the contract he’d just made, it was with a heavy heart. He was thinking that, perhaps, he’d just played a dirty trick on the man; perhaps, it wasn’t right to put Ranse in the middle of Lysabel and Trenton, as Alixandrea had suggested. Still, Matthew genuinely felt he had to do it. He had to help his daughter forget the man who had made her feel love again, and this was the best way to do it.
To give her another man to replace the one she’d lost.
Now, to tell Lysabel. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to. But first, he had to tell someone else.
Gaston.
It was early afternoon when Gaston found Trenton in the stables, sitting on a tiny stool while soaking Snowdrop’s still-sore leg with a mixture of mustard and vinegar. Gaston could smell the pungent combination as he approached the stall where both Honey and Snowdrop were tethered. Leaning over the side of the stall, he looked at what his son was doing.
“What’s the matter with the pony?” he asked.
Trenton glanced up at him. His face was pale and his eyes bloodshot, indicative of the roaring headache he had as a result of his drinking binge the night before.
“She has a bowed tendon, I think,” he said, returning his attention to the leg. “Cissy has not been able to ride her for several days. How did you know to find me here?”
Gaston threw a thumb towards the stable entry. “Markus is out in the yard with some de Wilde horses,” he said. “He saw you come in.”
“What is he doing with those horses?”
Gaston shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “It is possible he is preparing to return to Stretford Castle at some point. He must, you know. Mayhap he is just looking them over.”