“Hugh!”
Lady Katharine de Winter strolled into the hall, leaning heavily on her cane. Behind her came a procession of properly submissive ladies-in-waiting with their severe wimples and pale faces.
“Get off of that woman, you beast,” she told her son. “What are you doing to her?”
Hugh pushed himself off of Devereux, making sure that Andrew had a grip on her. His dark brown eyes warmed to his mother as he approached her.
“Darling,” he kissed her on both cheeks. “How good to see you. You are as lovely as ever.”
She let her youngest flatter her. “I can see that you waited for me.” She cast a long glance in the direction of the lady, picking herself off the floor with Andrew’s assistance. “What is she doing on the ground?”
Hugh took his mother’s elbow and they began to walk towards the altar. “Nothing to worry over, Mother.”
“Hmmm,” Lady Katharine carefully inspected the disheveled woman from a short distance. “That is not what I think. I think someone has worked this young woman over.” She paused before the knights, her sharp brown eyes scrutinizing every one of them. “Can anyone tell me what has truly happened here?”
Andrew had known Lady Katharine since childhood. His soft blue eyes twinkled at her. “The lady is reluctant to marry, my lady,” he said. “We are simply helping her fulfill the pledge.”
A withered eyebrow lifted. “Abusing the lady isnotthe same as helping her,” she said flatly. Her wizened brown eyes peered more closely at the girl. “Lady Devereux, I have seen you since you were a child. I know your father. I have always known that you would be a match for one of my sons, although I sorely doubt the youngest is worthy of you and the oldest lacks the time and effort for the undertaking. Would you kindly explain why these men tell me you are reluctant to marry?”
Devereux faced the elderly woman with as much dignity as she could muster. From the instant she had been informed of her betrothal to Davyss de Winter until this very moment, the entire event had been a nightmare. Now, in front of these strangers, she must explain herself. She had no choice.
“I do not want to marry your son, my lady,” she said quietly.
“Why not? And speak up, girl. My ears are not as they used to be.”
Devereux started to reply, more loudly, but she glanced at the men surrounding her and the words died in her throat. She took a deep breath as she gazed into ancient, wise eyes.
“May I speak with you privately, my lady?” she asked.
Katharine cocked what was left of her eyebrow. “You will speak here. There is nothing you can tell me that these men cannot hear.”
Something in the woman’s attitude fired a spark in Devereux; there was no kindness, no compassion. Just like the men surrounding her. The realization fed her resistance and her attempt to be moderately tactful disappeared.
“Because your son supports a tyrant of a king,” she said through clenched teeth. “I will not marry one so entrenched in oppression and politics.”
The knights stirred in outrage but none spoke; they would leave that to Lady de Winter, whose tongue could cut more deeply than the sharpest knife. The old woman’s eyes glittered with unspoken intensity as she sized up the blonde woman a few feet away; there was calculation to the gaze as she dissected the statement for both content and intent. She made her move accordingly.
“Your statement could be considered treacherous but I will give you the benefit of the doubt,” Lady Katharine replied after a moment. “Since I believe that every woman should be given the right to speak her mind, I will give you that same courtesy. Tellme, then, Lady Devereux, why you would make this slanderous and uneducated statement about my son?”
It was a direct slap but Devereux would not back down. She was not weak by nature and would not let this bird-like woman, no matter how powerful, push her around. Lady Katharine had already done quite enough of that when she forced Devereux’s father into a marriage contract. It had been a shock to Devereux those months ago when her father had informed her of the agreement. It made no sense, in any arena.
“It is not uneducated, my lady, I assure you,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “There is not a man, woman or child in this country who does not know the name Davyss de Winter. Everyone knows that he is the king’s champion and that men fear his power and wrath.” She took a step towards the frail old woman, her bright gray eyes glimmering with more curiosity than defiance. “I am the daughter of a minor noble. I have no great rank or power, nor do I come with a dowry of a thousand fighting men. I am not a particularly suitable match for your son and I would ask why you seem so determined for me to be his wife.”
Lady de Winter met Devereux’s gaze with equal force. “For precisely the reasons you have indicated,” she said quietly. “You are not politically connected. You cannot betray my son to an enemy who has coerced you or your father into submission. You do not come to this marriage with a secret agenda for power or money. You only bring yourself.”
“That makes little sense to a politically connected family such as the de Winters.”
Lady Katharine lifted a sparse brow. “It makes perfect sense. My son does not need a woman attempting to bend him to her will for her, or her family’s, political gain,” she paused a moment, studying Lady Devereux’s exquisite face. The woman was genuinely beautiful in spite of the fact that she had beenroughed over. “He needs someone strong and unconnected and true. He needs someone to keep his attention and show him that the true meaning of manhood comes from dedication to one woman, not the plaything of many. You are this person.”
For the first time since being cornered in her father’s home, Devereux felt her defiant stance waver. As Lady Katharine explained things, it made perfect sense. But it did not erase facts.
“How would you know that I am true?” she was genuinely curious.
The old expression was confident. “Because I have watched you grow up and, as I have said, I know your father. I have known your family for quite some time. You are aware of this, lady.”
Devereux nodded faintly. “I know that you rule this shire. Your family has for generations. Everyone knows of the de Winter might.”
“Then you are aware that I speak with some knowledge when I say that I know of you and of your character. You are the mistress of The House of Hope, a poorhouse that provides to the needy of the shire. You are held in high regard for your generosity and charity.”
