“Matthew was only trying to protect me, I know that,” she continued. “He has always shown me such regard. But there are some things that even he cannot protect me from.”
Alixandrea listened to her, thought on it a moment, and finally shook her head. “I do not know what to say that would bring you comfort. Anything that comes to mind sounds trite or naïve. Have… have you ever spoken to your husband about this?”
“Nay. But I know that he would tell me that it is none of my affair.”
“And the others know? All of the brothers, I mean, and Adam as well?”
“Of course. But they do not involve themselves in what does not concern them.”
The cab lurched and rolled over the particularly bumpy road. Alixandrea continued to hold Caroline’s hand in silence, glancing out the window now and again, lost in thought. She tried not to hate Mark Wellesbourne for his behavior, but it was difficult. She also knew that it was not considered outlandish behavior for a man to take a mistress, or several, even though he was married. It was shameful. She could only pray that Matthewwould never do such a thing to her. The mere thought of it made her feel sicker than she already did.
“Well,” she tried to sound positive without sounding unsympathetic. “Perhaps we can change things. Perhaps we can get you some new clothes in London, things so beautiful that Mark will not want to look anywhere other than at you. And perhaps we can do your hair differently, and add a little jewelry. We can certainly try, can’t we?”
Caroline was torn between resignation and the inclination to agree. She’d never confessed such things to anyone and it was a new experience to have a woman’s advice on the subject. “Perhaps.”
Alixandrea smiled at her, forcing away the melancholy of the past few minutes of conversation. “We shall find the best dress makers and the finest stylists in all the city. We’ll make you a ravishing creature.”
Caroline did not say anything. She simply returned Alixandrea’s smile, unconvincing though it might be. They sat in silence until the blue ribbon of the Thames came into view and the brownstone and thatched roof houses of the London commons appeared as thick as trees in the forest. In spite of their conversation and gloomy thoughts, the excitement of having finally reaching Windsor overshadowed everything.
They had arrived.
*
The walls ofWhitewell’s keep were wrought with tension. Not only did Lord Ryesdale have his evening meal interrupted, but it was interrupted by the last person he expected to see. His gut hurt at the sight and his food, the fine venison he had hunted that day, was pushed away. He could not believe what he was seeing and demanded an explanation in front of the entire hall.Though it was only a few servants and soldiers, still, it felt as if he was confessing to the entire world. Now everyone knew of the failure of Strode Levingsworth.
But none more so that Howard. He heard his manservant’s tale, his eyebrows lifting with each passing word. By the time the man was finished, Howard was ready to explode.
“He sent you back to tell me this?” he demanded. “He dares to threatenme?”
Strode stood before his liege, head down, waiting for the blows that were about to befall him. The ride north to York had been a particularly dismal one and he thought, many times, of abandoning his course. But he had been at Whitewell since infancy and it was the only home he had ever known. He had nowhere else to go. He could only hope that Lord Ryesdale could forgive him his failure.
“He said to tell you that he has taken your niece and your men and that you should count yourself fortunate that he doesn’t burn Whitewell down around your ears.”
Howard’s eyes bulged. “More threats?” he gasped. Then he charged Strode, as the man had expected, striking him across the face. As the servant fell to the floor, Howard hovered over him. “What went wrong? How did you foul up my orders, you stupid fool?”
Strode cowered beneath him. “The maid,” he said; it was the only thing that came to mind. “She must have told him everything, for surely, it did not come from me. I was faithful, my lord.”
“Where is she?”
“She ran off, my lord. I have not seen her since we were released.”
Howard was nearly beside himself with fury. His first instinct was to take it out on Strode, the man who had failed him, but for some reason he refrained. His anger took the form of twitchingand shaking, directed inward until his heart pulsed wildly and his head swam.
“Ten years,” he growled, shaking his fists. “We have waited ten years for these plans to come to fruition and at the critical moment, you fail me. Ten years of planning wasted.”
“It was not my fault, my lord,” Strode slowly got up from the floor. “I swear that I did everything you told me, up until the last. Somehow, Wellesbourne discovered our plans, but I swear to you that I did not tell him. I never gave us away.”
Howard clenched his fists so hard that his jagged nails cut into his palms. “Ten years,” he muttered again. “My God, we waited so long and now…”
He went off into a corner, muttering to himself. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill of the room. It was a large room, well appointed, fitting for Howard Terrington’s arrogance. Strode backed himself up near the door as if preparing to run out should Howard strike at him again. He watched his liege mumble and hiss, frightening sounds that dribbled of madness.
“What would you have me do, my lord?” he asked. “Please. All you need do is ask and it will be done.”
Howard acted as if he did not hear him. He muttered a moment longer before coming to an abrupt halt. Then, his head came up and he looked at Strode as if something fantastic had suddenly occurred to him.
“La Londe,” he hissed. “I’d nearly forgotten.”
Strode wasn’t following him. “My lord?”
