“Do you want to return to London?”
“No!” she exclaimed, standing up. Her movements were agitated. “I… I am trying to forget about Gaston, and I cannot do that in London.”
“Trying to forget about him? Why in the bloody hell would you want to do that?”
She stopped pacing, only stood there hanging her head. “You said you still love him,” de Tormo reminded her.
“But he surely does not love me, not after all of the heartache and trouble I have caused him,” she said quietly. “It’s better this way, Father. I am away from Guy, and away from Gaston. No more trouble.”
“Gaston is devastated, Remington,” de Tormo said softly.
Her head came up, her eyes red-rimmed. “Did he send you here?”
“No,” the priest confessed. “I came of my own accord. He’s a prideful, stubborn man. He shall not come begging.”
She stiffened. “And I shall not grovel at his feet. Why are you here, then?”
“To try and talk some sense into you,” de Tormo said. “He’s not the same man, Remi. He’s bitter and distant and… so cold. He never smiles anymore. When you left, you took his heart with you.”
She thought on that a moment, rubbing at her belly when the babe kicked firmly. “Does he hate me?”
De Tormo shook his head. “Never.”
“What about Guy? The annulments?”
“His annulment with Mari-Elle was complete in October,” de Tormo answered. “Guy remains in the Tower, still recovering from his wounds.”
She looked at him curiously. “Wounds? What wounds?”
“The wounds Gaston dealt him the night you were taken from the Tower,” de Tormo explained. “Did not Gaston tell you? He nearly killed Guy wringing forth the man’s terms for consent.”
She shook her head, surprised. “Nay, he never told me. He beat him up?”
“Pounded him within an inch of his life,” de Tormo replied. “He thrashed Nicolas when the young knight tried to stop him. It was an ugly scene.”
Remington dropped her head. Gaston had not told her any of that, only that Guy had agreed to consent. What was it he had said? That Guy would have done anything to drive a wedge between them, and that he knew Dane would be the wedge? Her mind began to swirl, realizing that Guy had probably thrownthe terms regarding Dane in at the last minute. Gaston had physically hurt him, and Guy would retaliate by hurting Gaston far deeper. Dear God…Guy knew her so well that he knew how she would react to such a suggestion. Gaston, so desperate and unbalanced because of her removal, had agreed.
She began to shake. She had played right into Guy’s hands…again.
“My dear God,” she whispered, sinking against the wall. “What is it that I have done?”
De Tormo frowned. “What? I do not understand.”
She let out a loud gasp, her hands to her head. “I have been so foolish, Father. I have ruined everything.”
De Tormo stood up. “My God, Remington, I hope this means you are finally coming to your senses.”
She looked at him, her hand over her mouth with the horror of what had happened. “How could I….oh, Father, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I have always regretted it, but I did not want to admit it. I should have trusted him!”
De Tormo sighed heavily, saying a silent prayer of thanks. “If you two aren’t the most stubborn people I have ever had the misfortune to come across.”
“Oh, God, he hates me,” Remington moaned. “He would have come himself if he did not.”
“He tried sending you missives, but you did not respond,” de Tormo told her. “You sent them back unopened. He even sent Wellesbourne because he thought mayhap your anger would not be so great on a middleman, but you sent Wellesbourne away, too. I tell you, Remington, he’s simply not the same man since you left.”
She stared at him, her face glazed with misery and hope. “Where is he, Father?”
De Tormo blinked. “Warminster. Gaston is now the Duke of Warminster.”
