Since she had seen Simon in the lists earlier, she was not surprised when the knight took her to the royal box. Simon de Montfort was seated in an elaborate wooden chair, rising to his feet when he saw Devereux approach on the arm of the unknown knight. Devereux mounted the steps to the box, dropping into a neat curtsy.
“Lady de Winter, my lord,” the knight announced.
Simon’s yellowed eyes inspected every curve, every line, as he stared at her. He’d only caught a fleeting glimpse earlier and had no idea what a beauty Lady de Winter was. As the sounds of the mêlée began to fade as the event drew to a conclusion, Simon indicated for Devereux to sit next to him, which she did. She faced him expectantly as he continued to study her.
“I had heard rumors of your beauty,” he said. “I can see that they were not exaggerated.”
She smiled modestly. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Has your husband told you of me?”
She blinked, not sure of the answer he was looking for. “He told me that he is your godson, my lord.”
Simon nodded, deciding his next line of questioning. He was interested in this woman who had captured Davyss’ arrogant heart.
“I am told you are from Norfolk,” he said. “Lady Katharine de Winter has told me of your charity. ’Tis noble work, my lady, and uncommon for a woman of your breeding to attend.”
At that moment, Devereux could see something of her father in Simon de Montfort; arrogant, possibly judgmental. Simply the way he asked the question put her somewhat on her guard.
“My mother started the charity, my lord,” she replied evenly. “I am happy to attend to the needs of the poor.”
Simon waved a hand at her. “I did not mean to sound critical, my lady,” he sensed he had offended her. “I only meant that most noble women do not tend to the needy as you do. Sometimes it is best to leave the needy to those better suited to that lifestyle, like the clergy. You give a great deal of yourself and that is an uncommon trait.”
Devereux wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “T-Thank you, my lord.”
Simon’s intense gaze returned. “What does your husband think about your charity?”
“He has generously supported it, my lord.”
“That is surprising.”
She stared at him, once again struck by the man’s arrogance. In fact, it was beginning to infuriate her. “Nay, it is not,” she deliberately left out “my lord”. “He is extremely generous and understanding of my charity.”
She sounded angry and Simon sat straight in his chair. “I meant no offense, Lady de Winter,” he insisted. “It is simply that I have known Davyss for a great many years and he is not the generous or unselfish type.”
Devereux was beginning to boil. “Did you summon me simply to speak ill of my husband?” she asked. “I can assure you that you do not know my husband if you believe him selfish or ungenerous. He is the kindest, most compassionate and understanding man I have ever met and I will not permit you to disparage him. And you? Do you not care for those in need? I was under the impression that you cared for all of England, not simply the rich or noble.”
Simon could see he had a situation on his hands and he moved quickly to ease it. “My lady,” he said steadily, “I assure you that I would never disparage Davyss. I love him as my son. And in answer to your question, I do indeed care for those in need. I believe I have proved that with my actions and deeds.”
Devereux eyed him, sensing that de Montfort was not at all the man she thought he was. She could just tell by his manners, the way he spoke. She shook her head and faced the arena where the combatants were starting to trickle out.
“Are you a man of the people, my lord?” she finally asked.
“I would like to think so.”
“But if your own daughter was to immerse herself in charity work, you would disapprove?”
He drew in a long, deep breath, knowing this was a tricky question. He was coming to see how Lady de Winter’s mind worked and he was quite impressed. “I would encourage my daughters to be generous with charity.”
“But you would not encourage them to wipe up after an ill peasant or spoon feed a dying woman, is that it?”
His yellowed eyes twinkled at her. “This is a battle I cannot win with you, my lady. You and I have differing opinions on the matter.”
Devereux looked away, seeing her husband at the far end of the arena speaking with the field marshals. She thought back to when they first met and how she had brow-beat him over an arrogant king and a saintly de Montfort. Lady Katharine had accused her of being ignorant and it was obvious she was; she had gone on rumor and what others had told her more than actually experience or personal knowledge. She was coming to feel like a fool.
“I always believed that the Earl of Leicester was a man of the people,” she turned to look at him. “I believed that the king wasa tyrant and that you had the good of all men in mind. I see now that perhaps I was mistaken.”
Simon’s lips twitched with a smile. “You were not mistaken, Lady de Winter,” he assured her softly. “But this is a conversation I should like to continue with you away from this field. Shall we return to the Tower?”
