St. Denis, standing next to his son, heard him. His brow furrowed with concern. “What has he done to her, Cres?”
Creston grunted in disgust. “Starve her,” he said. “Evidently, the earl feels that a woman should be pale and slender and weak so that it will arouse a man’s natural sense of protection. He wanted to make her appealing to me.”
It wasn’t exactly the truth, but close. It was a broader picture of de Bulverton’s cruelty, and the men who had heard his explanation were clearly revolted.
“Vile,” St. Denis muttered. “Is she well enough? She has suffered no lasting damage?”
Creston looked over to the table where the women were sitting, only they were no longer sitting there. They had heard the commotion and were now standing behind the men. Creston caught sight of Ophelia’s face, seeing the shame and despair that her grandfather had caused a scene.
He felt tremendously sorry for her.
“Probably not,” he said softly. “But I should tend to her. Will you forgive me for retreating with her to my cottage?”
“Of course not,” St. Denis said, waving at the trainers to get out of the way so Creston could get to his wife. “Take her now. She needs a tender hand, lad. Be kind to her.”
The trainers parted, revealing the women, but Athdara saw him coming. She was almost as tall as a man, so she had seen more of what was going on with Oscar and Royston than the other women had. When Creston came near, she put up a hand.
“Creston, wait,” she said. “The other ladies and I were going to prepare your cottage for you. We thought you would befeasting all day and we would have more time. Will you at least give us an hour? We want to make your place lovely for your new bride.”
Creston smiled at the women he’d genuinely come to like—Athdara was strong and noble, Gisele was cultured and kind, Elisiana was fiery and fun, and Astria was gracious and generous. They were all gathered around Ophelia in what Creston thought was a rather protective way. He felt it was very sweet of them. He looked to Ophelia to answer their question.
“My lady?” he said gently. “An hour?”
Before Ophelia could answer, Gisele slid her arm through Ophelia’s. “She’s coming with us,” she said. “We will help her prepare for you. You stay here with the men, Creston. We won’t be long.”
Ophelia didn’t even get a chance to answer. She was pulled along by Gisele and Elisiana, the women closing ranks around her and shuffling her out the door, leaving Creston standing there, scratching his head.
“What just happened?” he demanded to anyone who could answer.
Tay snorted, putting his hands on Creston’s shoulders and turning him for the table. “My wife happened,” he said. “She is the daughter of a duke and the sister of a duke. She is demanding and bold and knows how to get things done. Sit down, Cres. We have an hour before your wife is ready for you.”
Creston let Tay push him down onto a bench while Cruz, now sufficiently calm, poured him a drink. Even though it was midmorning by this point, they all settled down with more wine to wait out the hour while the women prepared the cottage of the new Lord and Lady de Royans.
Perhaps the wedding day wasn’t ruined after all.
Creston could only hope.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Are you goingto let your brother show you such disrespect?”
Royston was out in the livery yard, taking a piss against the wall, when he heard a voice behind him. Still pissing, he turned to see Oscar standing several feet away with something smoking in his right hand.
“I do not know what you mean,” he said, turning around to finish his business. “My brother and I have been at each other since I told him about the marriage. Even before that, we were never close. It is the way of things.”
Oscar pondered that statement as he lifted a smoking stick in his hand and inhaled the trails of blue smoke that were curling out of it. He inhaled deeply and held it in his lungs for a moment before exhaling.
“He is arrogant,” he said simply. “Men like that think they can rule over men like you and me. You are a baron, a titled nobleman. I am an earl.Werule this land, de Royans. Not men like your brother or even men like Exmoor. They are insulated in their own little world. They do not know the trouble men like you and I see.”
Royston sighed heavily. “Creston used to serve the king, as you know,” he said. “Our father was quite proud of him.”
“You did not tell me why he left royal service, only that he did.”
Royston thought back to that time. He remembered his father’s agitation, his rage at the missives Creston had sent him, missives that detailed the dishonor John had put him through and the results when it came to the woman he loved. He remembered his father’s distress over the missives he then received from King John, looking for Creston and telling Quinton de Royans to send his son back to London immediately. Even if Quinton had known where Creston was, which he hadn’t for quite some time, he knew Creston wouldn’t have gone. His mind was made up and royal service was no longer an option.
It had been a difficult time for them all.
“Why else?” Royston finally said. “A woman was the reason that part of his career ended.”
