Dane snapped out of his trance, doing as he was told. He set the tray down carefully and bolted from the room. Remington stood, dazed.
“My solar is across the hall,” Anne said softly. “I shall tell Gaston where you are when he arrives.”
Remington looked at the woman, a million words of thanks rushing to her lips, but all she could squeeze out were two. “Thank you.”
Dane was waiting stiffly in the solar. Remington shut the door softly behind her, turning to face the son she had not seen in nearly a year.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hello, mother.”
She smiled. He did, too. She was shocked to see that his missing front teeth had grown in, as had several more new permanent teeth. He almost did not look like the same boy and she felt herself crumbling.
“I have missed you terribly.”
“You have?” he swallowed. “Mother, I….are you and Sir Gaston married yet?”
“Not yet,” she said softly, emotions tightening her throat. “But soon, hopefully. We are traveling to London right now to finish the proceedings.”
Dane’s sea-crystal eyes stared at her a moment. “What if the church says no? Then what?”
She lowered her gaze and perched herself on the edge of a heavy silk chair. “Then we continue to love each other and raise your new sisters at Deverill. And we will continue to love you and Trenton very much. Nothing will change.”
Dane thought a moment, lowered his eyes and staring at the floor. “I have heard some of the squires call you a whore. The knights do not, because they respect Sir Gaston, but sometimes…sometimes I have heard them talking about Sir Gaston and then they shut up when I enter the room. Do you suppose they think he is wrong to annul your marriage to my father?”
Remington felt sick to her stomach. She knew Dane would be subjected to this kind of talk and wasn’t surprised at his question. “It does not matter what they think. We know what is right, do not we? We know that Sir Gaston loves us far more than your father ever did, no matter if he is my legal husband or not,” she studied her son’s face a moment, his boyish features transforming into young manhood. “I am sorry if you are ashamed of me, Dane. I never meant to humiliate you.”
His eyes met hers, shocked. “I am not ashamed of you! And Trenton beat up the last squire who said bad things about you. Everyone is afraid of Trenton.”
“They are?” she asked, puzzled. “Why?”
“Because he’s so big,” Dane insisted. “He’s as big as you are.”
Remington looked at him doubtfully. “He’s not a bully, is he?”
“Nay,” Dane shook his head. “Not at all. But he does not like it when people say bad things about you or Sir Gaston. It makes him mad.”
Remington gazed at her son, thinking how very much he had grown in the past year. He was nearly nine years old, and Trenton was almost ten. It was hard to believe how much had changed.
“How do you like it here?” she asked, feeling a little better now that the most ugly subjects had been dealt with.
Dane’s face lit up and he proceeded to tell her all about his six months at Oxford. Remington listened intently, laughing and genuinely enjoying his tales. Time flew past as she listened to her son, so very glad to see him again that she was content to listen to him all night. In the middle of one particularly comical story, there was a soft rap on the door.
Dane, as he was so trained, opened it.
Gaston entered the room, a young man at his side. It took Remington a moment to realize she was looking at Trenton.
She stood up, her eyes wide. Trenton was, indeed, as tall as she was. Probably taller, and he outweighed her, too.
“Trenton!” she gasped.
Gaston grinned, looking down at his son. “My reaction precisely. Greetings, Dane.”
Dane bowed a polished gesture. “My lord de Russe. Congratulations on your dukedom, my lord.”
Gaston’s eyebrows rose faintly as he let go of Trenton’s shoulder and moved to Remington. “My, so formal. You have learned your lessons well.”
Remington couldn’t take her eyes off Trenton. He was growing into the exact image of his father, and he smiled weakly at her.
