And he did not look pleased.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He didn’t evenrecognize him anymore.
Jerome had been sitting with his son in the vault, the same vault where Raymond had been killed hours earlier. He was staring at the man who had been his only family since the death of his wife. Staring at the tattered remnants of the life he’d known and facing the cloudy facets of a future he hadn’t been expecting. Raymond had been dead for several hours and had turned into a gross caricature of what he used to be in life. A gross caricature of what Jerome’s life had now become, something strange and misshapen.
This nightmare he found himself a part of.
A nightmare with no end in sight. The alcohol that Jerome had imbibed the night before had mostly worn off by the time the sun began to rise, but death was, in and of itself, a sobering experience. Now, he had a sober, shattered mind that reflected what had happened and what he needed to do.
His son had been murdered.
He wasn’t leaving Axminster without satisfaction.
Raymond had attacked a young woman, he’d been told. The same young woman that had been Raymond’s target during his years at Axminster. A young woman who had evidently playedgames with Raymond, telling others that she was eager to see him and then, when he made advances, she retreated. At least, that was part of what Jerome had heard, rumors once the news of Raymond’s death had started to spread, but the truth was that both Raymond and the young lady he attacked had been manipulated by another young woman who evidently had a vendetta.
Truthfully, Jerome was in shock. He felt as if he wasn’t living in the real world. He’d sat for hours staring at his son’s body, dumbfounded by what had happened, but that daze had given way to anger—anger great enough to make threats of punishment against those responsible. Douglas de Lohr, the son of the Earl of Hereford and Worcester, had killed his son in defense of this young woman. It was complex and convoluted, but the one thing that wasn’t complex or convoluted was the fact that Raymond had died.
It was the only thing that was crystal clear.
And Jerome was going to exact his pound of flesh.
He had been stewing on it for several hours. He had threatened to march on Lioncross Abbey Castle, seat of the Earl of Hereford in Worcester, but that was the grieving father talking. De Honiton had a decent-sized army, but it would be no match for Hereford’s. Even he knew that. Therefore, armed conflict was not the answer.
But he knew what was.
He knew where the pound of flesh would come from.
Ultimately, the situation was Lady Isabel’s fault. This was her castle and anything that happened here was her responsibility. As the sun rose over the bucolic Devon landscape, Jerome knew what he had to do. He knew what hewantedto do. He’d lost his son this night. Nothing could bring Raymond back, but those responsible were going to pay dearly.
That very price was on his mind as he made his way out of the vault and to the entry level of the keep. Lady Isabel’s solar was just off the entry and he knew she, and her knights, had been there for quite some time. As far as Jerome was concerned, they were all afraid to face him, afraid to admit their failings. No one stopped him as he entered the keep and went to the solar door. He went to open it, but someone opened it from the inside and he abruptly found himself face to face with Douglas de Lohr.
He’d never felt more contempt for a man in his life.
“Get out of my way,” he growled. “Where is Lady Isabel?”
“Here,” Isabel said. Hearing the man’s voice, she’d leapt out of her chair to face him. “Please come in, Lord de Honiton.”
Douglas stood aside as de Honiton entered, but de Honiton couldn’t help but ball a fist as he walked past the knight. He lifted his hand to strike Douglas in the face, but Douglas grabbed the man’s hand purely out of reflex and nearly crushed it. Jerome cried out in pain as Douglas clamped down.
“Douglas, release him,” Isabel commanded. “Please—let him go.”
Douglas did, but he pushed at the same time, thrusting Jerome nearly halfway across the room.
“Consider that a warning, my lord,” he said in a decidedly threatening tone.
And Jerome took it for a warning. He stumbled over a chair and ended up leaning over it as he pointed at Douglas.
“He has killed my son and now he threatens to kill me!” he said. “I do not know what animosity this man has against me, but I demand protection!”
Isabel went to Jerome as Eric went over to Douglas, not to protect Douglas but to prevent him from charging de Honiton if the situation grew physical.
Isabel was focused on the brittle man.
“Lord de Honiton, I assure you that Douglas has no vendetta against you,” she said evenly. “But he will not allow you to strike him. You will behave civilly in my solar.”
Jerome’s expression cooled. He looked between Isabel and Douglas and even Eric, his gaze jerky, his body quivering.
