She turned to look at him, her dark eyes piercing. “It is less than you deserve,” she snarled. “You are a disgrace to the de Winter name, Hugh. Stay here and face your brother when he comes or leave and never return. I will not see you again if you leave. You have my vow.”
Hugh looked like a child who was about to face his greatest fear. “Please, Mother,” he begged.
She wouldn’t look at him. “Go to your chamber. Bolt the door and stay there. Do not leave until I call for you.”
Hugh was torn between extreme fear of his brother and his mother’s threat of disownment. He couldn’t actually believe hismother would allow Davyss to kill him, so perhaps the best place for him to be was indeed here under his mother’s protection. She was the only person alive who could talk Davyss out of killing him.
When Hugh fled her solar, Lady Katharine sat for quite some time, pondering the situation. She wasn’t sure she could dissuade Davyss from killing his brother if, in fact, Lady Devereux was dead. She knew that the relationship between the brothers would never be the same from this point forward and rather than see her youngest murdered by his own brother, she began to suspect there was only one answer. She had to keep Hugh alive yet unreachable by Davyss. Perhaps Hugh had been right; he needed safe passage to save his life. As a mother, her loyalty was to both her children. She must keep Hugh alive. And then she must see Davyss.
Hugh went north within the hour, heading to the bosom of an old family friend.
*
“You will notkill him.”
Davyss stood with his hands on his hips, gazing down at his wife with great displeasure. Lucy and Frances were tending her as she lay in their great bed after having taken a nasty fall down a flight of stairs which, Davyss learned, was Hugh’s doing. To say he was furious was not strong enough. The only thing keeping him from raging out of control was the anxious expression on his wife’s face. That alone was keeping him from ripping Wintercroft apart.
“You will not tell me how to handle my brother,” he told her sternly. “He did this to you.”
Devereux was actually quite well after having fallen down a flight of stone steps. Fortunately, she hadn’t broken any bonesalthough the spill had knocked her unconscious for a short time. She had a bruised cheek, a lump on her forehead, and was generally battered, but she was alive and well for all intent and purposes. And she was having a horrendous time keeping Davyss calm; she could see the rage in his eyes.
“As I told you,” she said patiently while Lucy held a cold compress over the lump on her forehead. “Since you would not speak with your brother, I felt strongly that I must speak with him in your place. Your argument was about me, was it not?”
The anger in his eyes flickered. “That is not your business.”
“It is if the quarrel was about me. Be truthful and tell me.”
He pursed his lips angrily. “Do not lecture me on being truthful. You would not even tell me what you were doing in the Tower. I heard it from a servant who happened to hear you and Hugh arguing.”
“If you did as I asked and resolved your quarrel before you retired, then I would not have felt the need to speak with him.”
He just rolled his eyes and huffed, posturing angrily, but he did not retort. Truth was, he had never felt more fear in his life as he had when Andrew had brought his wife’s unconscious body back into their bedchamber. He had been sound asleep, both ashamed that he hadn’t known she was missing from his bed and gravely concerned that she was injured.
When Devereux had regained consciousness, she wouldn’t tell him what had happened but Andrew had pressed a couple of male servants in the Tower who had told him what they had heard and seen; Sir Hugh and Lady de Winter arguing, Lady de Winter’s fall and Hugh fleeing in the dead of night. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.
“You will not blame me for your actions,” he said, more quietly. “No one forced you to go to the Tower. It was your choice.”
Devereux thought on that a moment. “Aye, it was,” she winced as Lucy pressed too hard on the compress. “But I had to try and calm the situation between you and Hugh.”
Davyss didn’t say anything; he just stood there, watching the women fuss over his wife, his initial anger and terror fading into something odd and mixed. He was so angry with Hugh that he couldn’t think straight; all he wanted to do was murder the man. But the stronger emotion was worry for his wife and respect for what she had tried to accomplish.
She was a peacemaker, a peace lover, and he knew that. He, on the other hand, was not. War was his vocation, his life, his behavior. This woman was so intriguing and honest on so many levels that he found it difficult to fathom. His mind didn’t work the way hers did. The fact that she would try and help him by solving his problem with his brother went beyond comprehension. Did she truly think enough of him, after everything he’d put her through, to do that?
“I appreciate that,” he said, his manner softening somewhat. “But I will ask you a question and I want you to be perfectly truthful. Will you do this?”
She hesitated slightly. “Aye.”
“Did he strike you?”
She sighed faintly and lowered her gaze. “Aye.”
“The bruise on your face?”
“Aye.”
Davyss turned on his heel and began to walk from the room. Devereux, realizing that he was more than likely going after his brother, leapt off the bed as much as her aching body would allow. Lucy and Frances tried to grab her but she was swift, racing after her husband. She grabbed him before he could leave the chamber.
“Wait,” she dug her heels in and he came to a halt. “Where are you going?”
