Henry paced over to Gaston, eyeing him. “Wherein London?”
“Before I tell you, I would have your word that she does not go to Guy Stoneley,” Gaston said plainly. “If she does, then I will kill him. I will not allow her near him.”
Henry could see the depths of passion within the smoky gray depths. He was preparing to order Gaston into submission, but he rolled his eyes wearily instead. “You are a demanding bastard. Stoneley has been asking for his wife daily.”
“I am sure he is, my lord,” Gaston said with more emotion than he had exhibited yet. “He wants to pry her for information to feed the Yorkist resistance. He knows she has been living at Mount Holyoak, with me, and he wants her knowledge. Surely you know that.”
“I know that,” Henry snapped. “Gaston, do not force me in this.”
“I am not trying to force anything, my lord,” Gaston said. “But I forbid Stoneley to see her.”
Henry looked at his Dark Knight, knowing the man meant what he said. There would be blood, and there would be chaos ifGaston de Russe ran amuck with anger and jealousy. “I do not like the fact that I will be breaking my word if I do not allow Stoneley to see his wife,” he said lowly. “If you supervised their reunion, would you allow the man a glimpse of her? I would not be breaking my word, then, in allowing him to see his wife.”
Gaston hated the idea with a passion, but he knew he must give a little in order to secure this bargain. “I will do that if you will grant me a favor in return; that you will begin annulment proceedings on my marriage to Mari-Elle.”
“I will,” Henry nodded. “In fact, we can begin them tonight. Peter Courtenay is the bishop of Exeter.”
Gaston nodded, feeling strangely weakened by all of this arguing. “I have brought my own papal representative to assist me in these unfamiliar matters, my lord. Would it be acceptable for him to sup with us, as well?”
Henry nodded, having no taste for supper after this conversation. “By all means. By God, I am tired already. You have sapped my strength with all of your illogical demands.”
Gaston smiled weakly. “You will not think them so illogical when you meet her, my lord.”
Henry perked up just a bit. “Is that so? She is a beauty, then? Worthy of all this heartache?”
Gaston pictured Remington’s face and his expression turned tender. “Worth dying for.”
Henry moved to the door, feeling all of his thirty-odd years. “Let us hope it does not come to that.”
John de Vere arrived at the Tower the following morning, Gaston was sure, to prevent the Dark One from doing anything rash. Or mayhap it was to show his support; for whatever the reason, Gaston had a long conversation with the earl and de Tormo that constituted his morning.
Peter Courtenay had been somewhat encouraging in the matter of annulling his marriage to Mari-Elle; he seemed tothink that if the king himself gave testimony before the papal board, it would be the only petition required. Since the woman was dead, there was no reason not to grant an annulment. But in the matter of Remington’s marriage to Guy, he was not as positive.
He had been somewhat shocked at Henry’s request. Gaston was not surprised at the passion of Henry’s argument to Peter; the king could persuade the devil himself to give up his throne if he were so inclined. Gaston was silent for the most part, answering questions that were asked of him until the bishop seemed clarified on all matters. He promised to seek audience with the apostolic delegate, James of Imola, within the next few days and report back to Henry.
Meanwhile, Gaston would have to gain Guy Stoneley’s agreement, and he had no idea what to expect. Would he outright refuse? Would he agree with his blessings, rid of his wife? Would he bargain? Gaston suspected the latter.
Which was why he spent the morning conversing with de Vere and de Tormo. He had an inkling that Stoneley might possibly demand his release, and the return of Mt. Holyoak for his cooperation. Gaston did not know why he suspected the terms; he just did. As much as he had grown to love Mt. Holyoak, he would gladly return it to Stoneley. But the matter of his release was another matter. Only Henry could grant his freedom, but Gaston was inclined to believe the king would do just that if Gaston asked it of him.
Henry sent for Gaston just before the nooning meal. Leaving de Vere and de Tormo in the Queen’s council chambers, where they had been speaking, Gaston retreated to the king’s private solar as requested.
Henry was fatigued as the heat and the humidity of London plagued him, explaining his short mood. When Gaston arrived, he ignored any greeting.
“Stoneley is demanding his wife again, Gaston. I think it would be best if you send de Tormo to explain the situation, since the priest has already formed a rapport with him.”
Gaston nodded slowly. “Agreed.”
“But,” Henry pointed a thin finger at him. “I want Lady Stoneley brought here this afternoon to see her husband. Mayhap if he sees her, he shall cease his endless requests and we can get on with the matters at hand. The man is a pest.”
Gaston’s jaw ticked and Henry rose swiftly from his carved chair. “None of that, de Russe. I understand your feelings and I am not unsympathetic, considering what I was told about Stoneley by de Tormo. But sometimes we must do distasteful things in order to achieve a greater end. Besides, there is no reason for you to be uneasy; you will supervise the visit and, therefore, no harm will come to the lady. Do you comprehend me?”
“Aye, my lord,” Gaston’s voice was a low, distant thunder.
Henry slanted Gaston a long look to see if he could detect any sort of subversion or disobedience on the part of the Dark Knight; under normal circumstances, such a thing would be considered unheard of, but men in love were known to do strange, unpredictable things.
“And then the two of you will join me for supper,” he added, quieter. “Elizabeth is due here from Windsor this afternoon and I should like us to dine together.”
“My thanks, my lord,” Gaston replied. “We would be honored.”
