“Please,” the old man begged softly. “Will you at least not consider my words? We need you, lad.Ineed you.”
Davyss was feeling fury along with his disorientation. Simon had him on the run and he didn’t like it. He suddenly whirled on Simon and the old man almost plowed into him.
“If my mother is involved in this, then she has betrayed me as well,” he hissed. “She would send Hugh to you to keep himfrom my punishment and you would use him to try and convince me to join you. Understand this, Simon; I am a man of honor. I will not break my oath to the king nor walk away from a post I have worked so hard to achieve. Hugh is jealous of my wife and tried to kill her; he must and will face my punishment no matter if God himself hides him. I will find him. And I will not join you and your rebellious barons because the true king sits upon the throne of England and it is he whom I serve. All of the men in my arsenal could join you and still, I would serve Henry. I must. It is a matter of personal honor.”
Simon understood a great deal in that passionate statement. He almost mentioned the fact but he kept his mouth shut; he would not display his thoughts nor his intentions, as Davyss was a smart man and would pick up on it immediately. So he kept silent, watching Davyss as the man blew out of the church like an angry black wind. And that was the end of it.
When Simon returned to his quarters, he sent a missive to Lady Katharine immediately.
Who is Davyss’ wife and where may I find her? It may be necessary….
*
Devereux had awokenwith the worst belly ache she could imagine. Moving around only seemed to make her more nauseous, but it was her first full day in her new home and she did not want to spend it lying in bed, so she forced herself to rise. Lucy and Frances were waiting like impatient children for her to awaken and when she did, they immediately set about preparing her morning toilette. Devereux felt awful but she allowed them the pleasure. They seemed so eager about it.
So she sat in the bathing room while they fussed over her. Lucy rubbed oil on her skin while Frances brushed her hair. Asthe women worked, Devereux sat in a fog, her mind on Davyss and the fact that he had more than likely gone to do his brother great bodily harm. The thought made her feel even worse. With her aching head and rolling stomach, she very much wanted to return to bed. Half-way through her toilette, she could no longer stand it.
“I am sorry, ladies,” she stood up from the little stool they had her seated on. “I believe my harrowing night has taken its toll. I must lie down for a time.”
Lucy and Frances were very concerned. “Are you ill, Lady de Winter?” Lucy asked fretfully.
Devereux nodded as she went back into the bed chamber and climbed back into bed. “Please see that I am not disturbed.”
Frances and Lucy helped pull the coverlet up around her, passing anxious glances.
“Shall we send up some wine and bread, my lady?” Frances asked.
The thought of food made Devereux feel ill. She shook her head as she lay down. “Nay,” she sighed as she settled in. “No food. Just let me sleep for a time. I am sure I will feel better in a little while.”
“Do you require the surgeon?”
“Nay. Just sleep.”
There was nothing more that Lucy or Frances could say. They left Devereux asleep in the great bed, although they made sure that one of them was outside of the door at all times in case she needed something. When Davyss returned sometime before noon, Lucy was waiting anxiously for him with a tale of woe.
He raced to the master’s chamber to find Devereux sound asleep. The tapestry was lowered, blocking out the light from the windows and the room was dark and musty. He was very quiet as he leaned over his wife, putting a gentle hand on her forehead to make sure she wasn’t running a fever. He was deeply concerned,shooing Lucy and Frances out of the room. He followed shortly. Once outside the door, he spoke.
“Did she eat this morning?” he asked.
Lucy shook her head. “Nay, my lord. She did not want anything to eat.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I see,” he frowned, thoughtful. “What did she say her symptoms were?”
“She did not,” Frances answered. “She only said she must lie down. But she has been asleep all morning.”
Davyss digested her statement, the situation in general. He exhaled sharply, blowing out his cheeks. “I can only assume that last night was too much for her,” he said. “She is exhausted and injured, and we will let her sleep until she feels better.”
“Of course, my lord,” Lucy nodded eagerly. “We shall sit with her in case she requires anything.”
Davyss shook his head. “Nay,” he informed them. “I will sit with her. Send food up to my chamber, please.”
The women nodded and fled. Davyss went back into the darkened chamber and tried to stay quiet as he wearily removed his boots. He set the first one down silently but the second one made some noise. He froze, watching Devereux, but she remained still. He resumed removing his tunic, quietly, tossing it over near the wardrobe. By the time he sat down next to the bed, Devereux was awake and looking at him.
“You make enough noise to wake the dead,” she mumbled.
He grinned down at her, smoothing a big hand across her forehead. “Enough to wake you, at any rate,” he removed his hand, gazing sweetly down at her. “I heard that you were not feeling well. Is there anything I can do?”
She looked up at him with her brilliant gray eyes and the humor in her expression faded. “Aye,” she whispered. “You can tell me that you did not kill your brother.”
