Trenton didn’t say anything. He seemed focused on the ponies and not on anything more than that, but Gaston was sure it was a self-protection measure. Stretford meant Lysabel, and he didn’t want to think about her at the moment. When the woman that a man loves rejects that love, sometimes all that is left are tasks to take the mind off such things. The wine hadn’t helped him forget.
Perhaps being busy would.
Gaston knew Trenton was hurting. Even if he didn’t know the man at all, his history or his heart, simply looking at him would have been enough to tell him that Trenton was a man in pain. Aside from the physical pain he’d brought on himself, of course.
There was anguish in his manner.
Unfortunately, Gaston was there to compound it.
He’d just come from Matthew, who had delivered news that was going to be devastating to Trenton. In truth, Gaston was still reeling from it and he had no idea how Trenton was going to take it. Matthew wanted to tell Trenton himself, and he’d told Gaston first so the man would know and possibly help him fend off an emotional response, but Gaston didn’t think it would be wise for Matthew to deliver the news personally. He wasn’t entirely sure just how in control of himself Trenton would be when he found out and he didn’t want him lashing out at Matthew in his anger.
Therefore, Gaston was prepared to take the brunt of it.
There was little choice.
“I have a need to speak with you, lad, if you can spare me the time,” he said. “It is important.”
Trenton was fussing with the pony’s leg. “Now?” he asked. “Can it not wait?”
“Nay, it cannot.”
Trenton sighed. “Then what is it?”
Gaston suspected there was no chance of pulling Gaston off some place private, so he simply leaned over the side of the stall and prepared to speak in a quiet tone. But as he opened his mouth, there was a great commotion at the entry to the stable as Boden, Gage, and William came charging through, laughing and shouting at each other, going to collect their horses. Gaston stood up, facing the young knights as they charged through like bulls.
“Where are you going?” he said to Boden, who was the closest.
Boden had a rope in his hand. “Into Warwick,” he said. “They are having a horse market there and we want to see their stock.”
Gaston sighed heavily, leaning aback against the side of the stall. “Boden, I just bought you that blue roan not three months ago,” he said. “If you want another horse, you are going to have to buy it yourself. I am not buying you another one.”
Boden smiled at his father. “You are not buying it,” he said flatly. “Willie is. Willie lost a bet and now he is going to buy me a horse.”
Gaston waved him off and turned around, back to Trenton. “Go, then,” he said. “But stay out of trouble. And no going to the taverns there. Do you hear me?”
Boden put his arm around his father’s shoulders. “I hear you, you rotten old man,” he said affectionately. Then, he spied Trenton with the pony. “Do you want to come with us, Trenton? I’ve heard there are a great many fine horses up for sale.”
Trenton glanced at his younger brother. “Nay, thank you,” he said. “You go ahead and spend Willie’s money foolishly and leave me out of it.”
Boden snorted and rushed off, rope in hand, as both William and Gage led their horses out of the stable so the grooms could prepare them. There was still a good deal of shouting and laughing going on as the de Russe brothers threatened William with something, and William vowed to punish them both. There was so much chatter flying around that it was difficult to know what, exactly, had been said, but knowing those three, it could be anything. As the shouting died away, Gaston returned his attention to Trenton.
“Your brothers have missed you,” he said quietly. “Boden has always looked up to you a great deal.”
Trenton simply grunted in response. “You had something important to speak to me about?”
He wasn’t in the mood for small talk; that much was certain. Leaning over the side of the stall again, Gaston’s gaze lingered on his eldest son.
“It is time to go home, Trenton,” he said after a moment. “There is no longer any reason for you to remain here and I… I am weary. I want to go home and see your mother.”
Trenton stopped what he was doing and looked up at his father, sharply. “What is wrong, Da?” he asked, standing up and looking at the man with great concern. “Are you feeling poorly?”
Gaston could see the intense worry in the man’s face and, at that moment, he knew that Trenton was aware of his health woes. Remington must have told him, or perhaps Matthew had. Someone had. In any case, he didn’t like seeing such concern for him in his son’s face. It made him feel old and feeble, and not at all like himself. He waved Trenton off, irritably.
“We are not talking about me,” he snapped quietly. “I am well; simply weary, but there is no longer any reason to remain here at Wellesbourne. I want you to come home with me.”
Trenton studied his father a moment, trying to figure out if the man was lying to him and he really was feeling terrible, but he let it drop. He could see that his father was defensive about it.
“I am not leaving,” he muttered, moving to reclaim his stool. “I will stay here for a time.”
“You are not welcome here and you know it. I want you to come home with me.”
Trenton stopped fumbling with the pony’s leg. “Nay,” he said flatly.
Gaston was starting to grow annoyed with the man. “Trenton, there is no use in you remaining,” he said. “Lysabel has given you her answer. You must respect it.”
“She told me what Uncle Matthew told her to say.”
“He had nothing to do with it. What she told you was of her own volition.”
Trenton suddenly bolted to his feet, startling the ponies as he faced his father. “And you believe that?” he demanded. “Did Matthew Wellesbourne tell you that? If he did, then he is lying. I know what he has told her.”
Gaston didn’t back down. “You will not call Matthew a liar,” he growled. “Do you understand me? Whatever the man has done, he is not a liar, and you would do well not to accuse him of such things. What he has done is what any man would do in his position – he is protecting his daughter. Given that you have no children, mayhap you cannot understand that, but I do. You asked me to come here on your behalf and I did; against my better judgment, I did, because it was important to you. For you, I pleaded your case before my dearest friend in the world, but Matthew has stood his ground. Now, his daughter has made her decision. Stop acting like a spoiled child who did not get his way. Understand that this is a battle you have lost, Trenton. You can do no more here.”
Trenton didn’t like what he was hearing, even if it was the truth. “So you defend Matthew over your own flesh and blood?”
“I am not defending anyone. I am simply telling you the way of things. If you continue on this path, it will not go well for you. You will ruin the relationship between the House of de Russe and the House of Wellesbourne for your purely selfish reasons, and I will not let you do it.” Gaston’s jaw was ticking furiously as he faced off against his son. “Listen to me and listen carefully. Matthew has betrothed Lysabel to another man. The contract has already been agreed upon. You cannot violate it and if you try, I give Matthew permission to throw you in the vault until you come to your senses. Is this in any way unclear?”
Trenton felt as if he’d been struck. His head actually jerked back and he stared at his father in shock.
“He… he what?” he finally gasped. “Lysabel is to be married?”
Gaston’s anger was tempered by the grief he saw in Trenton’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to shout it at the man, but Trenton’s unreasonable disposition had forced him into it. Instantly, he felt himself softening by the pain he saw.
“She is,” he said quietly. “Matthew feels it is best for her to get on with her life, and that does not include carrying on an affair with you. She will mar
ry and be an honored wife and mother, not a mistress. Can you understand that, lad? It may not be the choice of the heart, but it is the right thing to do. Do not think it has given Matthew any pleasure to do this, either. He does not wish you pain.”
Trenton was still staring at him, trying to comprehend what he’d been told. Unfortunately, he couldn’t. He sank back onto the stool, feeling as if everything in his body had just been ripped out and smashed. Where his heart and guts used to be, there was now a big, black hole.
He was empty.
“Did she know?” he asked, his voice raspy. “Is that why… why she refused to go with me?”
Gaston shook his head. “It is my understanding that this has only come about today, so she could not have known last night,” he said. “I am sure she would have told you had she known.”
“Today?” Trenton’s head came up, his bloodshot eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “This all happened today?”
“Aye.”
Trenton’s brow furrowed, the desperation to understand evident in his face. “But how?” he demanded. “No one has come in or out of Wellesbourne since we have been here, not even a messenger. Who is she pledged to?”
Gaston knew, but he wasn’t sure he should tell him because it could put Ranse de Troyes in a very bad position. Trenton was a killer. Gaston knew his son was a killer, and no man withstood the rage of someone like Trenton de Russe.
“Does it matter?” he asked. “The fact remains that she is pledged. The wedding is to take place quickly, from what I understand. Come home with me, Trenton. We shall leave today. There is no reason for you to remain here and torture yourself.”
“Torture myself?” Trenton shot back, now on his feet again. “How can you say that, Da? I love a woman who, up until yesterday, was a widow whose future, I had hoped, was with me. Now she’s betrothed? How do you expect me to react to such a thing?”
“Like a man of honor,” Gaston said, his voice low. “Trenton, I raised you to be a man of honor, and to linger here at Wellesbourne, now that you know Lysabel is betrothed, is not honorable. No amount of pleading with her is going to change the situation, and if you do and for some reason she decides to leave with you, it will ruin our family honor. I doubt Matthew would ever speak to me again, a man who sacrificed his left hand at Bosworth to save my life, and I would be bereft without his friendship. Is that what you want to do? Destroy me in my time of need?”
Trenton looked at him, hearing those words, and suddenly realizing his father was speaking not of Trenton, or of the situation, but of himself and his health. It was written all over his face.
And that was when Trenton started to realize that he needed to walk away.
It was as simple as that.
“Nay,” he said hoarsely, looking at his father. “I would not destroy you in your time of need. I would never do that to you. But I cannot help what I feel.”
Gaston could see that he was thankfully calming. He reached out, putting a hand on Trenton’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said. “But in this case, you must rise above it. It was not meant to be, Trenton. I need Matthew’s friendship as much as I need your love. Right now, I need you both, and to have you at odds with Matt destroys me more than you know. Matthew is doing what he feels is best for Lysabel, and I must do what I feel is best for you. Come home with me, now. I need you to.”
Those pleading words were the last nail in the coffin. All of the emotion, the longing, and the anguish had reached its peak because Trenton couldn’t do anything more. No amount of begging, or demanding, or rebellion was going to change the situation. But more than that, he could see that his behavior was having a serious effect on his ill father. Whatever terrible health was happening to him, Trenton didn’t want to hasten it. He didn’t care about his honor; that wasn’t an issue.
But his father’s health was.
And that was the deciding factor.
“Very well,” he said, hating those words coming out of his mouth but knowing they were necessary. “I will go home, but first I must go to The Horn and The Crown in Westbury.”
“Why?”
“Because my men will be waiting for me there. I told them to. We were intending to return to London, together.” He sighed heavily and turned to look at the two ponies, all wrapped up with bandages for their injuries as they munched on their oats. “I will meet them and tell them that I will be at Deverill Castle for the near future. And I will send word to Henry that I will not be returning to London. My father needs me.”
Gaston was watching him carefully. “I am not asking you to leave his service.”
Trenton shook his head, running a hand through his dirty, dark hair. “I know,” he said, looking at his father. “But I know you are ill, Da. Dane told me and Mother confirmed it. I think you and I have spent too much time away from one another, so I would like to come home if you will let me. Let my memories of my father be that our relationship was repaired at the end of his life, so that when you finally go to your grave, it will be with the knowledge that I was a good son.”
Gaston had a lump in his throat. “You are a good son,” he said. “You have always been my pride and my joy, Trenton. I am very proud of the man you have become.”
Trenton was so emotional that the tears were close to the surface. He wiped at his eyes so they wouldn’t spill over. “Even though I serve Henry?”
“Even though you serve Henry.”
“I love you, Da. I am sorry if I have ever disappointed you.”
Gaston reached out and grabbed him behind the neck, pulling his head against his. “I love you, Trenton,” he whispered against his ear, feeling his son emit a sob. “And you have never disappointed me. Let us go home now. All will be well again, I swear it.”
Trenton believed him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She could see them from her mother’s small solar.
With a kerchief to her nose, Lysabel watched the de Russe escort as it formed in the stable yard and spilled over into the bailey. She knew they were preparing to return home without anyone telling her. But from the window, she could see Trenton as he moved through the men and horses, making sure everything was prepared for the journey home.
A sob escaped her lips as she watched, knowing this would probably be the last time she ever saw the man. Her father had told her about the betrothal to de Troyes, and she hadn’t stopped crying since. She knew what she wanted, and what she couldn’t have, and it was tearing her to pieces. She finally had to turn away because watching it was too much to take. Sitting on one of her mother’s cushioned chairs, she put her kerchief to her face and sobbed.
Distracted with her grief and weeping, Lysabel didn’t notice her mother opening the solar door, only to stand there and watch her daughter with an expression of great sorrow on her face.
Alixandrea had just come from her husband, who had much the same expression that her daughter did, only without the tears. They were both deeply upset by the situation, but Matthew was standing by his decision. Although he felt it was best for Lysabel in the long run, Alixandrea still wasn’t certain. Most of all, she felt sorry for Ranse, who was put in a position between two lovers that he knew nothing about.
It wasn’t ideal.
Matthew had told his wife that he refrained from telling Ranse about Lysabel’s attachment to Trenton, thinking that it should come from his daughter if, in fact, she wanted to tell him at all. And as Alixandrea watched her daughter weep, she thought that it was perhaps time Lysabel became more acquainted with the man she was betrothed to.
The situation was bad enough without Lysabel making herself sick over it, and Alixandrea didn’t want to give the woman too much time to grieve. Her life had been in enough turmoil over the past several weeks, so perhaps talking to Ranse might give her hope that a calm, peaceful life was on the horizon.
Right now, Lysabel was not only grieving Trenton’s loss, but fearing the prospect of a future with a man she knew nothing about. If nothing else, speak
ing to Ranse might take her mind off of Trenton and the escort in the bailey, and introduce her to the man she was going to marry.
At least, Alixandrea hoped so. She had to do something, and she felt as if she’d talked to her daughter all she could about the situation. There was nothing more she could say that Lysabel hadn’t already heard.
The time for talk was over.
Closing the door softly, she went in search of Ranse.
Unaware of her mother’s departure, Lysabel continued to sniffle and sob. She felt as if she’d suffered through a death. Trenton was gone – and it was her doing – but the day after she refused to go with him, she was starting to have some second thoughts about it.
Perhaps, she hadn’t made the right decision, after all.
Perhaps, she should take the girls and flee with Trenton, as he had suggested, and no one would ever know what had become of them. He had offered to take her someplace where no one would know them, and as the day progressed and the escort outside began to assemble, that offer was looking more and more attractive.
Uncertainties wracked her. What did it matter that her family was shamed? They would get over it. They would move on with their lives, and she would live hers with the only man she’d ever loved.
Wasn’t that better than being without him?
… wasn’t it?
In the midst of her mental turmoil, a knock on the solar door startled her. Wiping at her face, she turned away from the door as she spoke.
“Who is it?” she called, muffled.
“Ranse, my lady,” came the voice through the door. “May I enter?”
De Troyes. Lysabel’s head shot up, looking at the door as if her mortal enemy was on the other side of it. Her first reaction was to scream at him to go away, but she quickly realized that none of this was his doing. Her father was the instigator and Ranse, being that he served her father, had probably felt obligated to agree to Matthew’s offer. Although she didn’t know the man very well, he had been kind in their brief contact. Now, the man was to be her husband. Chasing him away wasn’t going to change that.