Guy had noidea there was anything amiss until his door opened and one lone papal guard entered. The older man was dressedin the crimson colors, fully armored, and he paused stiffly just inside the door.
“My lord,” he said formally. “You have been summoned. Please collect yourself and accompany me.”
“Accompany you where?”
“To Westminster. The papal council demands your presence, my lord.”
Guy continued to sit at the small writing table, a quill in his hand as he composed a letter to his son. He still did not know where Dane was; no one would tell him anything, not even the church. He hoped that somehow his letter would find its way to Dane, wherever he was.
Not because he cared for the boy; but he wanted the church to think he did. Then, mayhap, someone would take pity on him and tell him where his son was.
Anything to use against Remington.
He had already succeeded in stopping the annulment proceedings, claiming victimization. That bastard de Russe had not bested him, after all. He kept his wife, and from what he had heard, the Dark One had abandoned Mt. Holyoak. And he had almost secured his release, a mere technicality as far as he was concerned.
God, he was clever.
“More questions? Why is that?”
“I do not know, my lord. Please come with me.”
Guy rose slowly, a shadow of concern crossing him. “Is there a problem, sergeant?”
“I do not know, my lord,” the man repeated.
Guy frowned, moving to don his shirt. Even in the coolest days, he avoided tunics unless absolutely necessary. He hated to cover up his beauty. “Would you be so kind as to tell me if I am to be released this night? Is that why I am being summoned?”
“I have not been so informed, my lord,” the soldier said. “All I know is that the papal council wishes to speak with you. Most likely Henry and the Duke of Warminster, as well, considering they are at Westminster.”
Guy felt a bolt of shock move through him. “The duke is here? Did he bring his… lady?”
The guard nodded. He had not heard of the details regarding the board’s proceedings, only that there was something very potent going on if Henry and Gaston de Russe were involved. He had no idea where Stoneley fit into this, and that was his undoing. The guard was a fairly dim man who did what was ordered of him and did not move far beyond his limited world.
“The duke arrived this afternoon with his household, including his wife, I believe,” he replied. “She is housed in Martin Tower.”
Guy was seized with another shocking bolt, only this jolt was one of excitement. Remington was not far from this very room, and he was suddenly extremely excited to know that.
His sharp mind was working quickly. Remington was here… de Russe was at Westminster, miles away. A plan took root, began to nurture and take shape.
Guy glanced at the soldier one more time before moving to his great wardrobe and pretending to rummage through. The rapid movements of his hands disguised his shaking; he was literally shaking. His plan was blossoming, consuming his mind, until he knew there was no possible alternative.
He was confident he was to be released. So, what if he were to release himself a bit ahead of schedule? And Remington was to remain his wife, was she not? He would take her with him.
Home.
Home to Mt. Holyoak.
So far away in Yorkshire, surrounded by his fellow loyal barons, not even Henry could return him to London. And,mayhap, the church would go so far as to demand the king leave him in peace. After all, the church was on his side after his performance yesterday. Who wouldblamehim for taking what was his and fleeing London as fast as he could?
Even if he was, technically, escaping jail.
Guy pushed those thoughts aside. Once escaped home, mayhap Henry would eventually forget about him and focus on his many other troubles instead. And de Russe would find another whore, and leave Remington alone.
Aye, it would work out… eventually.
But first, he had to get out of the White Tower. And there was only one possible out, as he saw it.
Certainly he could wait for the king to release him. But why should he? He had been in this damnable hell long enough.
