Gaston was dazed. He shook his head with disbelief. “Why was only one guard sent to escort Stoneley? Why did not the whole damn company attend him? Why did not the household troops insist on more than one man in Stoneley’s room?”
Henry shook his head; he did not have the answers. “Security was lax, Gaston. Stoneley has never given us any problems; he’s never been belligerent or combative in the least and, therefore, not considered a real threat. ’Tis the only explanation I can offer you for the presence of merely one guard.”
Gaston’s eyes were wide with shock, his face taut. He was having difficulty thinking, for the possibilities literally overwhelmed him. “So Stoneley killed the papal guard sent to escort him back to Westminster, then donned his uniform and spirited Remington from the compound. But how did he get past Patrick? Damnation, I do not understand any of this.”
Henry put his hand on Gaston in an ineffectual attempt to calm him. “We shall interrogate the guards who were on duty. Someone had to see something.”
Gaston’s eyes were locked onto the bed, the indenture Remington had made in the feather mattress. Woodenly, he wandered to the wardrobe, as if it would lend a clue. He simply couldn’t believe what all of the facts were leading him to believe.
Guy had escaped and took Remington with him.
His huge hands gripped the open doors of the wardrobe as he gazed inside. Be seemed to stand there for an excessive amount of time when suddenly a loud popping noise filled the room, crumbling and snapping.
The wardrobe doors came off in Gaston’s hands.
Henry stared, astonished, as Gaston tossed the doors aside as if they did not weigh a couple of hundred pounds apiece. It was then, and only then, that every man present realized the extent of Gaston’s anguish.
“Where would he take her?” Henry asked, still shocked. “To Mt. Holyoak?”
Gaston nodded absently, reaching into the wardrobe and drawing forth a small glass vial. Reverently, he pulled the stopper and inhaled the contents. All watched him curiously as he gently replaced the stopper and shoved the vial into his waistband.
The scent reminded him of Ripon and the first time he had ever made love to Remington. He would; nay, had to, keep it with him. It would keep him steady when the pain was more than he could bear.
“I ride north,” his voice was tight, his manner hard. “Nicolas, find your brother, or what’s left of him, and return to Deverill. Antonius, you will ride to Oxford and notify de Vere of what has happened. Tell him to keep close watch on Dane.”
“Are you going to Mt. Holyoak?” Henry demanded again. “Are you so sure he will take her there?”
“There is nowhere else he could go. I will find him, and I will kill him.”
Henry watched the Duke of Warminster transform himself into battle mode. Hard. Cold. Calculating. The perfect killing machine. He pitied Guy Stoneley.
“I shall notify Bourchier of what has transpired, Gaston,” Henry said quietly. “Have no doubt that they will support you in your endeavor.”
Gaston did not reply.
“We shall search for Patrick,” Antonius took charge; Nicolas was having difficulty controlling himself. “And I shall interrogate the household guards personally. If I discover anything valuable, I shall try to send you word.”
Gaston was busy with his gauntlets, tightening the interior strap of one. He listened, but said nothing. This was the Gaston who was preparing for the battle of his life, and they all knew it.
“Is it not possible that Lady Remington is with Lady Beaufort?” Jasper interjected at the last moment, trying to find reason in this chaos. “She is still at the Tower, you know. It is possible that Margaret sought the lady’s company. Mayhap Patrick is with her, as well.”
Gaston paused a brief moment. “Send someone to check. I will only wait that long.”
Jasper snapped to the nearest soldier, who dashed away in a jingle of armor. Until the man returned, it became the mission of every man in the room to keep Gaston calm.
No one wanted to meet their end as the wardrobe doors had.
Gaston remained calm, but he also remained as a block of stone, cold and unmoving. In truth, he was afraid to speak or move for fear it would release the dam building inside him. He was afraid to explore the feelings growing within his heart, afraid that he would be unable to deal with them.
So he remained still and aloof, waiting without hope for the soldier to return from Lady Beaufort’s room. He knew that Guy had taken Remington.
He did not have a doubt.
He also knew that Guy would take her back to Mt. Holyoak. It was his home and there was no reason to believe he would take her anywhere else.
Gaston would then ride to Mt. Holyoak to retrieve Remington, but logic told him that it would be useless to bring his army. With as well fortified as Mt. Holyoak was, he could lay siege for months and never see progress. He doubted that he could even catch up to them with the head start they had.
Nay; the intelligent thing to do would be to go alone and wait for an opportunity to take back what was his. And kill Guy in the process.
