Gaston was already moving for Remington. He pulled her up into his arms, holding her closely against him. De Tormo watched slow tears trickle down Remington’s cheeks, her face half-buried in his chest.
“There is nothing we can do?” Gaston asked tightly.
De Tormo shook his head slowly. “Not at the moment. To refuse to cooperate would surely bring the archbishop’s wrath, not to mention they would probably order the lady to stay with her husband.”
Gaston was silent a moment, stroking Remington’s hair. “How long of a separation?”
“They are speaking in terms of months, at least,” de Tormo replied, greatly saddened that he had been unable to argue successfully against separation. “I tried. God knows I did. And I shall still try, but at this moment, Courtenay is sending his personal guard to escort Remington to Saint Catherine’s. From there, she will be spirited away until this can be settled.”
Gaston was shocked and angered, but he held his temper and his tongue. He knew there was nothing to say, at least not tode Tormo, and he could do nothing more than comply with the orders. If he were to defy them, then the situation would look very much as if he were forcing Remington in all of this. He had to cooperate and he knew it.
But there was still Henry. If he had to get down on his knees to the king and to every bloody bishop in England, he would. This challenge would not go entirely unanswered.
“Remington’s possessions are at Braidwood,” he said hoarsely, feeling her soft sobs against him.
“I know,” de Tormo replied. “She will not be taken away until after supper, since you are dining with Henry. There will be time to collect them.”
Gaston looked drawn. De Tormo walked up slowly on the two of them, wishing he could say something encouraging. He couldn’t think of anything as far as the church was concerned, but he did bring a few tidbits that might lighten the darkness.
“You have my support on this, as you know,” he said quietly. “Courtenay is truly not trying to be cruel, Gaston, but he is acting on higher orders. Archbishop Thomas Bourchier of Canterbury has commanded him to act in this manner. I have a meeting with the papal legate, John of Imola, in two days and I hope to sway him on your behalf. Meanwhile, the lady must go and Guy Stoneley is demanding to see you on the morrow.”
Gaston’s jaw ticked threateningly. “So that he might gloat, no doubt. Is de Vere still here?”
De Tormo smiled thinly. “He says he’s not leaving and he has every right to stay, considering he is the constable of the Tower of London. In fact, he has sent for Lord Stanley, Earl of Derby, and his brother Sir William to keep him…er, you…company. Edward Courtenay is on his way here and de Vere has also sent word to Matthew Wellesbourne.” His smile turned somewhat genuine. “It would seem that he is calling the premier fighting men to your support, Gaston. If you cannot win the ladyby legal means, mayhap every powerful warrior in England can intimidate the hell out of the church and you can take her by force. In any case, I would venture to say that you did not realize you had so many powerful friends to rally behind you, did you?”
Remington, gaining control of her shock, wiped at her eyes. “Who are these men, Gaston?”
Friends.They were his friends. “Men who fought for Henry against Richard, the best warriors in England. They are friends of mine.”
De Tormo smiled at Remington. “Men who are eager to heed the call and rally behind Gaston. This battle is not over by a far sight, my lady, so do not lose hope,” he glanced up at Gaston again and chuckled. “You will also be pleased to know that Henry’s Uncle Jasper, the Duke of Bedford, gave Bourchier an earful on your behalf. So did Lady Margaret.”
“Beaufort?” Gaston looked surprised, though his eyes were still glazed with grief. “I had no idea Henry’s mother was in London.”
“Indeed,” de Tormo nodded.
It was amazing what had transpired in the languid afternoon while he and Remington had slept the hours away. He could scarce believe it, all of it.
De Tormo moved for the door, knowing the two would want to spend their final time alone. “It would seem, de Russe, that you do not need my help overly. You have every influential person in England to spring to your defense. Still, I will do what I agreed to do.”
“Thank you,” Remington had pulled herself away from Gaston and went over to the priest, in spite of his putrid stench. “For everything you have done and continue to do, de Tormo. We will be forever grateful.”
De Tormo flushed slightly around the neck. “My pleasure, my lady. But I must confess, I am seriously considering using yourtale of devil worship to gain headway against my superiors. It may be our secret weapon.”
She smiled. “You would lie to help us?”
“I would do what is right, and if that entails a fib, so be it,” he left the room, closing the door softly.
Remington turned to Gaston; he looked more upset than she did. After hearing of all of the people that were uniting on Gaston’s behalf, she did not feel quite as hopeless for their cause. But the thought of separation was tearing at her like a knife.
But it upset her terribly to see how pale and taut his face was. She knew the tremendous troubles he had on his mind, and her hysterics would only weaken him further. Forcing herself to sport a brave front, she went to him and they enveloped each other.
“I will write my sisters and tell them where I am,” she said. “You may find out where I am through them. Any messages I must send you, I will do it through Jasmine and Skye.”
“I do not know if you will be able to reveal your whereabouts to them, angel,” he said. “But they will let you send short missives to your family. You are clever in your thinking in that respect.”
She was silent a moment. “Guy hasn’t changed. He has always been a liar, but I hoped he was sincere when he said he would deliver his terms tomorrow.”
Gaston sighed deeply. “He still may, considering he wishes to see me tomorrow,” he kissed the top of her head. “I am sorry, angel. It seems things are not working out as easily as we had hoped.”
