He sighed, making faces as he followed her through the enormous garden at Norwich. When she stopped to cut more flowers, this time big fat pink blooms, he firmly pulled the basket from her arm.
“At least let me carry this,” he fumed, watching her smile. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met; do you hear?”
She grinned up at him, truly radiant in her pregnancy. Her cheeks were round and rosy, her eyes bright. Davyss had never seen her more beautiful and he fell in love with her more deeply with every day that passed. He sighed with exasperation andkissed her, continuing to follow her as she did exactly as she pleased.
The day was sunny, the weather remarkably mild for this time of year. The spring flowers had been blooming like mad for the past week and Devereux had cut bushels of them. There were flowers in every room of the castle. Although Norwich was a functional military garrison, it was starting to look more like women had taken over every inch of the place. Between Lucy, Frances and Devereux, female traits of flowers, fresh rushes and fine furnishings were everywhere.
But Davyss didn’t particularly mind. He was simply glad to have his wife with him. The past year had been particularly difficult with de Montfort’s rule and Henry’s captivity, but Davyss had stayed bottled up at Norwich with his wife, leaving only when he was summoned by de Montfort. Even then, he left Devereux closely guarded, terrified that Simon would betray him again and take her. But Simon had Lady Katharine, the solitary reason why he had not made another try for Devereux. Lady Katharine ruled Simon more than God did.
Even so, Davyss had not been out of the political picture entirely. He and Roger Mortimer had been in constant contact over the past nine months, speaking of politics, of kings and of barons. Roger was a supporter of de Montfort but recent months saw his support wane. Davyss had sensed this right after the Battle of Lewes and was smart enough to capitalize on it. Now, it was Davyss and Mortimer who were allies. De Montfort had nothing to do with it.
Mortimer knew where Henry and Edward were being held captive and it was out of Mortimer’s mouth that a plot for release eventually sprang. Davyss had spent the past several months planting the seed of escape through conversations and innuendos, so when Mortimer finally discussed a plot, Davyss’ job was done. He would facilitate whatever Mortimer hadplanned. Even now, he was waiting for Mortimer to arrive at Norwich so they could begin their deed. Time was growing short.
Hugh, Andrew, Edmund, Philip, Lollardly and Nik were well briefed and awaiting Mortimer’s arrival as well. Nik had recovered from his near-mortal injury at Lewes with hardly a reminder except for the patch he now wore over his missing left eye. If one good thing had come out of his injury, it had been that he and Frances had drawn closer together and she was now three months pregnant with their first child. Nik was thrilled, as was Frances, but she had been so ill through the pregnancy that it was difficult for her to show much joy. Mostly, she stayed to bed and Nik spent a great deal of time with her.
But Frances’ pregnancy was completely unlike Devereux’s; in the month of November, Devereux had discovered she was with child again and Davyss’ joy had known no limits. However, he had insisted that she stay in bed almost immediately and it had been a six month battle to keep her in bed when she did not want to stay there. Lollardly, Davyss’ resident surgeon, had examined Lady de Winter and insisted she was perfectly healthy, but it wasn’t good enough for Davyss. He didn’t want anything to go wrong and insisted that bed was where she needed to be.
His wife cooperated for the first three months but after that, she insisted that she felt fine and there was no reason to keep her supine day and night. Davyss divided his time between his duties and watching out for his wife as she went about her own, exhausting him to the point of frustration. Even on this fine and sunny day, he continued to follow her about as if afraid something horrible would happen the moment she was out of his sight.
“Davyss,” Devereux’s voice brought him out of his morose thoughts. “I have been thinking about something.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her, holding out the basket so she could lay the fat pink flowers down. “No doubt,” he muttered. “I am afraid to ask what it is.”
She smiled as she cut another stalk. “Why are you so irritable all of the time?”
“Is that what you have been thinking?”
She laughed. “Nay,” she turned to him. “But I have been wondering where you intend we should raise our son after he is born. Remember? We discussed this once. I told you I did not want to be traveling around like gypsies.”
He shrugged. “What is wrong with Norwich?”
She lifted her shoulders and turned around, picking at the next flower. “Norwich does not belong to you. I want to raise our children in a castle that belongs to you, some place that we will never be forced to leave or surrender. I was raised at Allington; it is my home. It will always be my home. I want our child to feel the same sense of security.”
He took the flower that she handed him. “I was raised between Wintercroft, Hollyhock and Breckland before fostering at Kenilworth. I did not suffer overly because I did not have a single place of residence.”
She put her hand on her belly, turning to him with a pout. “Little William must know the security and safety of one home.”
He fought off a smirk. “So it is William today, is it? What happened to Henry Thomas?”
She made a face at him. “I like William,” she insisted, turning back to the last flower. “I like the way it flows over the tongue; William.William. Still, I have always liked the name Titus.”
“What?” he rolled his eyes in disbelief. “My son shall not be named Titus.”
“Tiberius?”
“Nay.”
“Roland?”
“Silly wench,” he rolled his eyes again and took the last flower from her hand. “If you cannot think of a suitable name, I shall be forced to do it.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Is that so?” she sneered. “And just what brutally masculine name would you choose?”
He pretended to think as he took her hand with the intention of returning her to the keep. “My father’s name was Grayson.”
“I like that name but I do not want to name our son after your father. He will be forever confused with his grandfather.” She cocked his head. “What was Grayson’s father’s name?”
“Davyss.”
