Everyone was looking at Gaston. “Why did you not bring this up before?” Henry wanted to know.
“Because I was trying to spare at least some of Lady Remington’s dignity,” he replied, somewhat honestly. “My God, her life is already displayed for scrutiny by the church, her reputation, every horribly thing her husband has ever inflicted on her. The beatings, the rapes, impregnating her sister… I thought to spare at least some of her feelings. I care not for myself, of course; there is nothing about me and my personal life that all of you do not already know, but this woman has been laid open to strangers.”
“My lord, if what you say is true, then it changes things considerably,” Bourchier said seriously. “If he is a disciple of Lucifer, then we cannot allow the lady to be exposed to the dark forces. John and I must return to the board with this information.”
Gaston felt a surge of hope, and a bit of guilt. “I shall return to Wells Abbey and return the lady to London for her testimony. Father de Tormo, too.”
Bourchier stood up, nodding. “By all means. I would hear more of this shocking revelation.”
Gaston watched the men a moment. “You realize that Stoneley will deny this.”
“Of course he will,” Bourchier said strongly. “To admit to it would mean instant death. However, if it is determined that he does indeed worship Satan, I will recommend that he be burned at the stake.”
Gaston wasn’t sorry to hear that. He watched the three holy men exit the room, the soft hum of conversation following them. When the room was deserted, Henry rose from his silk chair.
“Bravo, Gaston,” he said softly. “A brilliant story. But can you truly prove it?”
“Without a doubt,” Gaston looked at his king. “And it was not a story. I really did witness the tower room with evil paraphernalia.”Aye, paraphernalia of a curious young boy!
Henry shook his head. “Disgusting. I pity Lady Stoneley more than ever, and I wonder if I should not send a priest to bless the entire White Tower. Stoneley has probably cursed it.”
Gaston’s lips flickered with a smile as he followed his monarch and the dean of York from the room.
*
Nearly a weeklater, Gaston made an appearance. Riding alone in front of fifty men-at-arms and six knights, Remington caught sight of him from their bedchamber window.
With a shriek of delight, she raced to her polished silver mirror and took quick stock of her looks, her hair and surcoat. She was so excited that she was making happy little grunts as she smoothed everything, combed and finally perfumed. He was finally here.
She made a mad dash for the door to the chamber, only to stop abruptly. Hand on the latch, her gaze wandered back to the massive oak bed against the wall. A thought crossed her mindand she smiled wickedly. Her hand left the latch, and the door remained closed.
Gaston rode into the newly created outer bailey, fairly broiling in his armor in the early July weather. Nicolas and Antonius were there to greet him, but he ignored their salutations as he dismounted.
“Where’s Remi?”
“I do not know,” Nicolas replied, weaving out of the way as Taran tried to take a bite out of his arm. “She was up in the nursery last I saw her.”
Gaston stripped off his gauntlets absently, searching the compound for the familiar figure. He was disappointed and surprised that she had not come out to greet him.
Antonius was attempting to relay something of importance to Gaston, but he wasn’t listening. Instead, he strolled across the outer bailey, through the opening of his nearly completed inner wall, and on to the castle.
De Tormo almost crashed into him at the door leading into the castle. The fat man reeled back, his hand over his chest.
“Good Lord, Gaston. You nearly killed me.”
Gaston raised an eyebrow. “With all of that blubber to soften the blow, I doubt it. Where’s Remi?”
“I have no idea. What happened after I left you in London?”
“Later,” Gaston rumbled, moving past the priest.
His disappointment was turning into anger as he made his way up the massive stone staircase to the second floor landing. He took a step toward their bedchamber when a noise from the other direction caught his attention, a baby crying.
Gaston pushed open the nursery door, fully expecting to see Remington seated with one of the twins. The only adult face that greeted him was Skye, and she hopped up from her seat in surprise.
“Gaston,” she gasped. “I did not know you were….”
“Where’s Remi?” he interrupted.
