“Of course,” John nodded, looking hesitant. “Does Henry know of this?”
“Not yet,” Gaston said as they began to walk back toward his men. “But he shall, which is why I must ride to London. The sooner I begin proceedings, the better.”
“Agreed,” de Vere said. “But you must sup with Anne and I before you leave. I will insist.”
“You know we will,” Gaston replied.
The remainder of the walk was silent, but comfortably so. De Tormo was waiting for them beside the carriage as they strolled up.
“My lord earl,” the priest bowed to de Vere.
“The great de Tormo,” John said, a bit sarcastically. “What are you doing as the Dark One’s traveling companion? Trying to save his soul?”
De Tormo glanced at Gaston. “’Twould be the utmost challenge for the holiest of men, my lord. I am along as Lady Remington’s escort.”
“Ah,” John turned to Gaston. “Well, I must be on my way. I will wait to hear from you, Gaston.”
“You will,” Gaston nodded, watching the earl walk away. Then he looked at de Tormo. “You know de Vere?”
“I do,” the priest replied. “I used to be assigned to the priory in Oxford and heard Lady de Vere’s daily confessions. A good, pious woman with a great imagination. The earl and I became acquainted.”
Gaston did not reply, instead, latching his helm. Remington watched a woman go by in the most bejeweled dress she had ever seen, her eyes wide. “Did you see that dress? Why, she has more jewels on that dress than I even own.”
“Not for long,” Gaston mumbled, pulling her toward the carriage. “I plan to buy you barrels of jewels, my lady, enough to put that wench to shame.”
She smiled at him. “I did not mean to insist you buy me more jewelry, Gaston. I was simply making an observation.”
“I realize that,” he opened the door. “But I will do it nonetheless. I want my future wife to be well dressed, as befitting her station.”
De Tormo, climbing back into the carriage behind Remington, snorted. “Since when do you care for stations?”
Gaston, thinking de Tormo was bordering on blasphemy, cooled. “What does that mean?”
“Just that,” he said. “I heard rumor that after Stoke, Henry tried to grant you the dukedom of Warminster, and you refused. If you cared for stations, you would now be the Duke of Warminster and not a simple knight. You would not even take an earldom.”
Remington was deeply surprised. She turned her sea crystal eyes to Gaston in astonishment. “You turned down a dukedom?”
Bordering on embarrassment, Gaston lowered his gaze and fumbled with his gauntlets. “I am not an ambitious man, Remi. I prefer fighting to courtly intrigue, and as a duke, I would be expected to participate in such activities. I am content to lead my army and train Henry’s troops,” he paused a moment. “Besides, it was one more thing Mari-Elle could sink her claws into.”
“But…Gaston. You turned down a dukedom?” she gasped softly.
He slammed down his visor so she could not see his face; a modest man, he was uncomfortable with her question. “Aye, I did, but if the title of duchess appeals to you, then I am sure I can arrange it.”
She shook her head, extending her hand from the window of the carriage and touching his arm. “Nay, my love. I would live as a pauper, so long as it was with you.”
He looked at her a moment through his visor, thinking that with all of the donations and bribing he might have to do, and such a thing was not out of the realm of possibility. But, by God, if Remington did not deserve a dukedom! In faith, he had not given his recent refusal a second thought until now. He wondered how receptive Henry would be to reconsidering.
He raised his visor and brought her hand to his lips. “Then you forgive me for my refusal?”
She laughed softly. “My lord, you are too humble to believe.”
He kissed her hand again and re-secured his visor. “I am not. I am arrogant where it is properly placed, and prideful as a peacock when it comes to you,” he turned in de Tormo’s direction. “And so you have your facts straight, priest, ’twas two dukedoms I refused. I had no desire to live in Lancaster, either.”
He marched away, leaving both Remington and de Tormo to deal with the revelation. The two of them were silent the entire twenty mile ride to London.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Tower ofLondon sat right on the river Thames. From where Remington sat, it looked almost as if it rose out of the water like a mythical legend. To think she was actually looking upon the structure, which housed her husband, made her feel faint. Had it not been for morbid fascination, she would have turned her attention elsewhere.
