As Matthew chuckled and Gaston grinned, Gaston turned to Remington and extended a hand. As he pulled her up from the seat, he introduced her.
“Matt,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “I would like you to meet Lady Remington Stoneley. Remi, this is Matthew Wellesbourne.”
Remington had heard the name. Everyone in England knew that Matthew Wellesbourne turned tides against King Richard atBosworth and, along with Gaston, cost the man his crown and his life. Matthew was called The White Lord for his benevolent and fair character, something in sharp contrast to Gaston’s reputation. In fact, many people already forgave Matthew for his treachery at Bosworth whereas Gaston was still looked upon as vile and feared. As Remington studied the enormous man with an oddly kind face, she tried not to feel any resentment towards him for that very reason.
“My lord,” she said, dipping into a practiced curtsy. “It is an honor to meet you. Everyone knows of The White Lord of Wellesbourne.”
Matthew couldn’t help himself from looking the woman up and down; he was very puzzled by her very presence. To see Gaston with a woman,anywoman, was something of a shock, and having heard discussion of annulment, he was doubly confused.
“The honor is mine, my lady, I assure you,” he said pleasantly, looking between Gaston and Remington. “Did I hear you speak of an annulment?”
Gaston nodded and relayed the entire story, including a repeat of the details of Mari-Elle’s death. When he was finished with his most complicated explanation, Matthew’s expression was almost calm whereas Martin looked somewhat distressed. A serving wench came with some refreshments, leaving the room without the customary spank from the master. Martin was too preoccupied.
“Well,” he finally sighed. “You have set yourself up for a hell of a fight, lad. You are the last person I would have expected this from.”
Gaston held Remington’s hand. “Trust me when I tell you that I am as surprised as you are. I have learned late in life that there are some things we simply have no control over, and to fall in love was the last thing on my mind. But it is done, and I intendto have what I want. But I will leave Remington here, in your safekeeping.”
“Absolutely,” Martin agreed emphatically. “’Twould not do to house her at Windsor or the Tower. It would only make her accessible to those sympathetic to Guy Stoneley.”
“I agree,” Matthew said softly. “Keep her well out of sight. Better still, will you let me take her back to Wellesbourne Castle? No one can get to her there.”
Gaston shook his head. “As much as I appreciate the offer, Matt, I must decline,” he said. Then he looked between his uncle and Matthew. “I am under no delusion that her stay here will be long. They will figure out where she is, eventually, and in that event, she will go to St. Catherine’s convent. But for now, I want her close to me and under my protection.”
“Undermyprotection,” Martin corrected. “Have no fear, Gaston, that your ladylove will be safe with me. No one will get past me.”
“I know,” Gaston replied softly, gazing on Remington’s dark head. “One more thing, uncle. She carries the next de Russe heir. That makes her protection all the more important.”
Martin grinned, the first time in the entire conversation, while Matthew just shook his head and laughed.
“You are a lusty devil, lad,” Martin said. “Just like your father. Why, I would say there were no less than six de Russe bastards roaming the country.”
Gaston’s friendly demeanor was gone in a flash, his irritation full-blown. “I only know of two, and I would appreciate it if you did not bring up my father’s indiscretions in my presence.”
Remington was shocked but held her expression. Gaston had brothers? Or sisters? She wanted to look at him, but dare not. He sounded angry.
Martin held up a soothing hand. “Do not get agitated, lad, and do not act so pious. You are nothing like your father in thatrespect, though your reputation is less than desirable in other areas.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Remington saw Gaston stiffen. “And just what does that mean?”
“Just that,” Martin snorted loudly, reaching for the plate of marzipan. “At least your father was not branded a traitor, though God knows you had your reasons. I would not have shown the self-restraint that you did if my wife had slept with my king.”
Remington closed her eyes, feeling the words like a stab through the heart. Gaston’s hand still held hers, though the pressure had increased. She squeezed his hand tightly, comfortingly. She felt as if she could cry rivers on his behalf. Head down, she didn’t see the looks that passed between Gaston and Matthew at that moment. There was something of sorrow and grief there, of untold secrets that would be buried with great men who had made great and terrible choices. Matthew finally hung his head.
But Martin was oblivious to the silent words between Gaston and Matthew as he smacked his lips loudly, chewing the marzipan with relish. He glanced at Gaston, and then Remington, and back again.
“I say what I feel, Gaston,” he said. “You of all people should know that. I do not blame you for betraying Richard. My God, he was an evil bastard, killing his nephews and flaunting his affair with Mari-Elle in your face. He knew you were loyal to the core for Edward and assumed you would be loyal to him as well, no matter what he did to you. You made a wise choice to serve Henry and Wellesbourne made the right choice to support you. Henry would respect you again and would treat you with dignity. Richard used you for a doormat.”
Remington couldn’t stand it any longer. She bolted out of the chair, rushing blindly from the room. The front door wascracked slightly; she threw it open and continued running, anywhere at all where Gaston and his hateful uncle couldn’t hear her sobs.
She had barely rounded the corner of the manse when Gaston caught up to her. Without a word, he threw his arms around her and she clung to him desperately, sobbing her heart out. She was so terribly hurt for him.
“Shh, angel,” he soothed her quietly. “It’s all right. ’Tis old history.”
“Oh, Gaston,” she sobbed. “The shame you suffered. Everyone thought you were a traitor to your king, when in fact you did what you had to preserve your dignity. You would allow everyone to think badly of you rather than make public the truth.”
He held her tightly, her feet dangling off the ground. She had no idea why he really betrayed Richard at Bosworth and he wasn’t sure he would ever tell her. Perhaps it was something that he and Matthew needed to keep between themselves. It was, after all, their secret.
“Angel, my shame is no greater than the shame you suffered at the hands of your husband,” he said quietly. “Do not let my uncle’s words upset you so; I have recovered. I have found you, and you have helped me heal my wounds.”
