Sir Alex cleared his throat, eyeing Hubert. “Ever since Derek was killed, Keith can speak of nothing but revenge. He thought to convince Brimley to band with him on an assault against Mt. Holyoak because Catherine Brimley was betrothed to Derek, but Brimley refused.”
“I know,” Gaston said flatly. “I helped Lord Brimley fight off Botmore’s anger and the baron informed me as much.”
Sir Alex looked decidedly uncomfortable. “He has come to me as well, my lord. He is trying to band the whole of Yorkshire against you.”
Gaston fixed Sir Alex with an open gaze and crossed his arms again. “And?”
“And I refused him, naturally,” Ripley replied. “He seems more driven to destroy you personally than to rebel against Henry’s rule.”
Squires from Ripley’s army returned with the fourth knight and took the horses from the warriors. Ordering the bridge raised just high enough that no one could ride in or out, Gaston motioned the men inside.
Remington was waiting for them in the solar. Gaston was mildly surprised to see her until he saw that she had set out refreshments for he and his guests. As always, the perfect chatelaine, and his heart warmed.
“Lady Stoneley,” Lord Ripley greeted her warmly. “May I say that you are blossoming outside of your husband’s presence.”
She swept her lashes against her cheek coyly. “’Tis a pleasure to see you again, my lord. I was unaware of your visit to us this day.”
“I sent no word ahead,” Ripley replied, his eyes full of Remington. There was a good reason he had not sent word ahead, but she did not need to know that.
Remington smiled and respectfully backed her way out of the room, her eyes lingering on Gaston overlong. He gave her a faint smile and closed the door behind her.
Ripley poured himself a huge goblet of wine as if he were in his own home, not a mere guest. “Thank God for Guy’s imprisonment,” he mumbled, his eyes lingering on the door again as if to see Remington. “She was… so unfortunate.”
Gaston detected a trace of longing, or wistfulness, ’twhich he could not be sure and jealousy coursed up his spine at the man’s manners toward Remington.
“We are not here to speak of Lady Remington,” he said shortly. “We are here to speak of my presence in Yorkshire and the state of your loyalty to the crown. But before we begin, tell me why you did not send a missive ahead notifying me of your arrival?”
Ripley downed the wine. “Because of Botmore. Had he intercepted the missive, it could have meant trouble for me. He would most likely have lain in wait for my delegation. The man is mad, I tell you. Derek was his everything for living.”
“Do you know why I killed Derek?” Gaston asked after a moment.
Ripley shook his head, pouring more wine. “I do not.” Gaston glanced at Patrick. “Because he abducted Lady Remington and two of her sisters. When I caught up to him, he threatened to kill Lady Remington if I did not let him continue home unmolested. One of my men took him out and, therefore, saved the lady’s life and possibly the lives of her sisters.”
Ripley nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “He harbored a softness for Lady Remington. So did his father, after he was widowed. They were allies with Stoneley because of her, you know. They knew what went on around here and they both imagined she would welcome a lover.”
Gaston couldn’t help himself from asking. “She never did?”
Ripley shook his head faintly, observing his cup. “Guy would not have cared, of course, but she did not want anything to do with anyone. I... I feel sorry for her. She’s the most beautiful woman in these parts and she’s condemned to a living hell with Stoneley. I pray every night that Stoneley dies in prison, the bastard. He was a terrible ally and an even worse husband.”
Gaston’s careful facade was nearly gone. He wasn’t so much jealous anymore as he simply wanted to run to Remington and hold her. He wondered if she knew just how public her “secrets” were. Hearing it reflected in someone else’s words shook him.
Ripley looked up at Gaston from where the man stood, emotionlessly, contemplating the bank of tapers against the wall. “Forgive me, my lord. I am off the subject already. Please continue with your agenda.”
“Indeed,” Gaston looked at the man. “You will forgive me, then, if I seem rushed. As I said, I am due in London.”
“Henry could never do long without you, my lord,” Hubert said praisingly, thrilled to be in the presence of the Dark Knight again. “Tis unlikely he would leave you alone for long, especially this far north.”
Gaston looked at the man. “Actually, I am taking Lady Stoneley to London, but that is a long story. And you, Doyle; you are now sworn to Lord Ripley? What happened to the tournament circuit?”
Hubert shrugged. “I prefer real fighting to the slap and tickle of the tournament. Moreover, Lord Ripley made me his captainwhen he heard I had fought with you for Edward. I have charge of a fortress nearly as large as yours.”
Gaston nodded faintly, moving around Patrick and toward the oaken desk. Reaching the table, he lowered himself slowly into the chair. When he raised his head, his face was unreadable. “Pleasantries out of the way, it would seem we have several things to discuss.”
*
Lord Ripley stayedwell past the nooning meal and Remington knew they would not be leaving for London that day. De Tormo was obviously agitated, going so far as to barge in on Gaston’s meeting and demand to know the schedule for departure. Antonius had nearly taken the priest’s head off.
It was late afternoon, close to sundown when Gaston’s conference finally broke. Lord Ripley and his men would be staying for the evening meal and Gaston felt quite confidently that he had a strong ally in the man. An excellent judge of character, he gave into his instincts where Ripley was concerned. If the man was indeed lying, then he was the best actor in the world.
