The priest stiffened and his eyes widened. “I have done no such thing.”
Gaston crossed his arms. “And I say that I can find at least a half dozen women that will swear on the bible that you have. Mayhap more. Women that will accompany Lady Stoneley to London, ready to testify if called upon by the papal counsel.”
The veins in de Tormo’s neck bulged. “How…how dare you threaten a man of God! And you, a knight, sworn to upholdthe church? You should be cowering at my feet, de Russe, not threatening blackmail!”
Gaston moved closer, his eyes glittering like deadly precious stones. “’Tis no threat, de Tormo. I never threaten. But I do promise. You will go down in flames, I swear it!”
De Tormo was having difficulty catching his breath. Remington, her eyes wide, alternately watched the priest and Gaston. She was having difficulty grasping what Gaston was saying, but the priest had no trouble at all. He knew.
De Tormo was no fool. He could read his death in the knight’s eyes and it scared the hell out of him. De Russe wanted something, and he wanted it badly enough to threaten to kill a man of the cloth. This threat went beyond that fact that de Tormo had heard of his relationship with Lady Stoneley; nay, this went deeper. He was intelligent enough to know that and savvy enough to respond.
“Then what is it you would have of me?” the priest choked out. “My oath of silence? What?”
Gaston backed off slightly. “In the solar. I do not conduct business in the open.”
The priest bowed away, flicking an uncertain glance in Remington’s direction. She watched him slink away, and Gaston put his hand on her arm in a reassuring gesture as he attempted to follow.
“Wait,” Remington put her hand on him. “May I come?”
He looked hesitant. “This is business, angel. Go on to bed and I shall seek you later.”
“I would like to come,” she said, a request and not a demand. “I assume that what will be said will directly affect me?”
He gazed back at her, swallowed by her intelligent eyes. Aye, she was smart with a head for business. He had seen it. This was no empty-headed chit, but a magnificent, brilliant woman, the mother of his future child, his future wife. He respected herastute mind more than he had ever respected almost anyone, including Henry.
“Very well,” he relented softly. “But I will do the talking, madam. Understood?”
“Of course, Gaston,” she looked surprised that he would even say such a thing. “Did the priest really take a serving wench to his bed?”
Gaston pulled her into the dim foyer as they headed for the solar. “No. But it is amazing what money can buy.”
Her eyes widened. “But why do you do this? Why are you worried that he knows of us?”
He sighed. “Listen when I speak to him, angel, and you will understand then.”
He opened the door and ushered her into the solar. De Tormo was sitting in the hide-covered chair next to the hearth, looking distinctly apprehensive. He did not look up when Gaston and Remington entered the room.
Gaston closed the door and went right to the point. “I have a proposition for you, priest.”
The man turned, then. “I suspected as much. What is it? How am I to perjure myself, my lord?”
Gaston actually sat opposite the priest, unusual that he would sit in the presence of anyone. He never sat when conducting business, but he did this time. He wanted to be, somehow, less threatening. He wanted information, and he wanted help, and he did not want to beat the man into agreement.
“Undoubtedly you have heard the rumors regarding Lady Stoneley and myself,” he began quietly. “To deny them would be futile, I fear. It is because of this that I must seek your counsel.”
The priest still looked apprehensive, but a sort of weariness had set in as well. “Speak, then.”
Gaston was truly annoyed by the man’s haughty attitude, but he admired it as well. If this man could stand up to him this well, imagine how he could stand up to his superiors. Gaston, in spite of the fact that he did not like this priest, wanted him on his side. Any way he could have him.
“I will come to the point,” Gaston said. “I wish to marry Lady Stoneley. What is involved in obtaining an annulment?”
The priest looked shocked. His eyes widened and he looked to Remington a moment before turning back to Gaston. “An annulment? On what grounds?”
“Cruelty,” Gaston said shortly. “Guy Stoneley has beat and raped his wife and her sisters for nine years.”
The priest shook his head slowly. “Not sufficient. A man’s wife is his chattel, as you know. He can do as he wishes without interference from the church.”
Gaston pursed his lips into a hard, flat line. “But he still must adhere to the moral code of the church, in which he took his vows.”
