Alec took a proffered chalice and handed it to his wife, taking the next for himself. Ali took his cup silently and moved to the distant wall, his expression guarded. He was still too wary of Brian’s intentions with Ivy to be chummy with the man.
“Absolutely,” Alec smiled at Peyton and took a healthy drink of his goblet.
Peyton followed suit, the familiar tang of St. Cloven Dark Ale bathing her tongue. Two more swallows of the liquid had her courage returning as well as her voice. Brian had resumed his seat behind his desk, pondering his surroundings distantly as they drank their ale in silence.
“My lord,” she said, setting her goblet down. “Is it truly your intention to marry Ivy to Colin Warrington?”
Alec expected her to ask such a question and turned expectantly to his father, waiting for the correct reply. Brian, however, did not respond instantly. He continued to sit and contemplate his ale.
“If you will forgive me, my lady, that is none of your affair,” he said after a moment. “With your father dead, ’tis my duty to find your sister a suitable husband and….”
“And Ali is not suitable?” Peyton demanded, bordering on outrage. “He was quite suitable not a day ago. Why is he no longer suitable?”
Brian looked at her, then. “Ali is not an heir. Your sister will become lady of Wisseyham Keep, a substantial manor with a good deal of investment in cattle and, in that respect, Colin Warrington is a more suitable mate.”
“Colin Warrington is a pig,” Peyton said flatly, forgetting to whom she was speaking. “He is a disgusting, filthy man with the morals of a barbarian. Obviously, my father never fully divulged the extent of the de Fluornoy-Warrington feud, else you would not make such a ridiculous statement.”
Brian lifted an eyebrow at her insolence. “Mind your tongue, lady.”
Peyton was never one to back down from a confrontation and with her sister’s happiness at stake she would push her manner to the very limits of respect.
“Gladly, but first I will tell you exactly what Colin Warrington is capable of. He and his father used to delight in burning fields of our barley to sabotage our livelihood until we hired soldiers to stand guard on ripening fields to discourage such actions. When they tired of burning our crops, they moved to harassing our villeins. They would abduct children from their parents only to leave the children to fend for themselves miles away from the village, three and four-year-old children forced to find their way home. More than half that were abductednever saw their way home, my lord. Some simply vanished, and still others were eaten by wild animals. Still other half-starving children somehow found their way to St. Cloven, where we would feed them and try to nurse some health back into their starving little bodies,” her eyes stung with tears from the memory of the tragedies, horrors she had forced away because the remembrance used to bring on nightmares.
The mood of the room grew somber as she continued. “But they were not sated with their sadistic lust; not yet, anyway. They progressed beyond simple abduction to raping young girls, threatening to kill them if they told who had deflowered them. Eleven, twelve, or thirteen years old; it did not matter to them. I know for a fact that there are at least four Warrington bastards roaming the village of March, one birthed from an eleven-year-old girl. But we could never prove anything, for the victims were too frightened to point a finger.”
Brian did not look particularly stunned, merely sickened. His handsome face was dark and icy, a distinctly frightening countenance, but Peyton did not pause to contemplate his expression; she was concerned only for her sister’s future. After a moment, Brian tore his eyes away from her and scratched his beard roughly. “Why did Albert not ask for Summerlin assistance?”
Peyton smiled thinly. “Because like you, my father had a great deal of pride. He did not want others to be involved in a problem he never lost hope of solving on his own. Even…. even after Nigel raped Jubil one day when she was in the woods gathering ingredients for her potions. Fortunately, Jubil was intoxicated at the time and remembered little, except that she kept recalling Nigel’s face looming over her. Never again wonder why father was such a recluse; he indeed kept to himself. But he was distrustful with good reason.”
Brian was staring at her, digesting her words, and Peyton noticed the pale, faintly bluish ring surrounding his lips. His expression was open and unguarded and she prayed that he was reconsidering his stance. She continued to gaze at him, even as she felt Alec’s comforting hand on her back. He simply had to understand.
Finally, Brian sat forward with a grunt and folded his hands on his desk deliberately, his brown eyes transformed from soft to piercing. “Do you swear to me that this is true?”
“She would not lie to you,” Alec cut in, incensed.
Brian held up a sharp hand to silence his son, his eyes never leaving Peyton. “Answer me.”
“I swear it upon the word of our Lord,” she said without hesitation. “Ivy and Jubil will confirm my story if you wish.”
Brian stared at her a moment longer, a throbbing vein in his temple drawing Peyton’s attention. When he spoke, his voice was low. “Ali, you will ride to Northampton immediately and retrieve Lord Finchamp of Dowling Street. He is the lawyer who agreed to marry you and Lady Ivy. You will bring him here posthaste.”
Ali leapt into action, not even bothering to thank the man before he was bolting from the room. Peyton felt her entire body go limp with relief and she proceeded to down the entire contents of her chalice without a pause.
“If he hurries, he can return before the Warrington’s arrive,” Brian rose from his chair, mumbling to himself like an old man. “I have got to see if there has been any progress made on the birth of my grandchild.”
Alec watched his father retreat from the room, knowing how impotent and weak he must be feeling in the face of his insolent children and a life that was intent on eluding his control. When Brian disappeared into the dim depths of the foyer, Alec turned to his wife, who was on her second cup of ale.
“Easy on that, love,” he said softly. “I shall not have my drunk wife bouncing off the walls.”
She gave him an irritable look and drained the cup. “I drink for a living, Alec. I have not been drunk in years.”
“How unfortunate. I was hoping you would drink yourself into a stupor and I would be able to take advantage of you.”
She smiled, feeling contentment as the warmth of the ale began to fill her. “Thank God all is working out well. Ali will marry Ivy, I have married you, and we will all return to St. Cloven to live happily ever more.”
He smiled faintly in agreement. “You make it sound as if we will have a perfect life together.”
“I would hope we will have a pleasant one, anyway. With my bold tongue and your considerable anger, ’twill be anything but perfect.”
