Nicholas entered the cell again and went to stand close, keeping his eyes on his mother. “Fourteen years ago. Her name is Berengaria.”
Margaret wept harder and his mother pulled out a cloth and wiped Margaret’s tears with soothing strokes.
Nicholas turned away, unable to see the woman he’d hated for so long for something she seemingly had no control over. He felt too heavy with guilt to rejoice at finding her. He remembered her goodness and the lessons she’d taught him and Julianna. Whatever she had done was not deserving of this.
He wanted to claw at his hair, shout until the walls crumbled, but nothing would bring back those years.
Phillip would pay. Nicholas would wait and then he would kill him.
“I wonder why they call you Leigh,” Margaret said finally, smiling when her face was dry. “What were you trying to say?”
Nicholas felt his eyes begin to burn. Where the hell were they with the beds? “Likely, Julianna. Berengaria was her nurse from her birth.”
“Or William,” Margaret added. “A mother does not truly forget her own child.”
“I was not her true child. My true mother and father were killed by the English. I was tossed into Berwick’s kitchen and put to work at two years old. Berengaria saved me and became the mother of my heart.”
A clay pot Berengaria was cleaning crashed to the floor and startled Margaret. Nicholas stared at his mother. Did she understand him?
“Mother?” She crouched low and picked up the larger pieces of clay.
He hurried to help her, afraid that she would cut her hand.
“Mother, Julianna has recently found me.”
No reaction.
“You will see her soon. You will see Julianna and my son.”
She smiled softly at him and continued cleaning up. He spent the entire day with her, trying to ignite a memory here or there, trying to see some sign of recognition from his mother. He told her about Julianna and his life, his son and his travels. She gave no sign of understanding, but Margaret did.
She wept for him and when his mother pushed him to Margaret’s side and scolded him with a scowl, Nicholas put his arm around Margaret the way he had when he and Julianna were younger and she was crying.
Finally, he smiled at Berengaria. He’d found her. He was never going to lose her again. Her or Julianna.
Chapter Nineteen
Before they leftEdlingham, Phillip stripped Julianna of her clothes and her jewelry, along with having her fingernails cut down low. If there was poison anywhere on her, he made certain to remove it.
He did this to her in the sight of his men, and in the presence of the Viscount of Bamburgh—whether or not he was alive, she didn’t know.
“Phillip, there was no poison,” she told him angrily and quite convincingly. Shehadto convince him that it was nothing she did, but rather the will of God that gave him a second chance. “Would you throw it away?” she challenged him. “And would you take the risk of it happening again and, this time, you do not escape your grave?”
His nostrils flared with rage at her. She almost lost heart and thought of running away. She didn’t care if he killed her. If Nicholas was dead, what did it matter? She would love to raise Elias but if she couldn’t, Agnes would take good care of him. She didn’t stand her ground for Nicholas, or for Elias. She stared Phillip down, unblinking and ready to call on the power of God to help her, for herself.
Whatever he feared most kept him from touching her and he smiled rather than squeeze her throat. “What do you want me to make of this little spectacle of yours, Jules? Hmm? That you found your beloved William and you can die in peace? Because, youaregoing to die, but first there is someone at Alnwick I want you to meet. When you do, you will wishyouwere eating dirt.”
“Anything would be better than spending another moment with you.”
He laughed. She did not. She could feel her hair springing tighter as her heat rose. He could haul off on her at any moment, but she wouldn’t back down.
“Get dressed, Wife. We are leaving.”
Julianna turned away from him and nearly leaped into her clothes. She slipped her ring on her finger but that was all she could take before Phillip stepped behind her and poked her in the back with his sword. “Move.”
She stepped around the viscount lying motionless on the floor and said a prayer that he lived. He and Nicholas. Phillip had taken enough already.
“Tell me, Phillip,” she asked, grinding her jaw at him and fastening her cloak around her neck, “who is this person I will wish I had never met?”
