Sharon Lanergan (14 page)

Constance nodded.

Agnes squeezed her hand and then patted her arm. “Then think of this. If you hadn’t let Loutrant get close and abduct you, Brian would never have been found. He would have lived out his life in that madman’s dungeon.”

Chapter Nineteen

“You wanted to see us, Brian?” Stephen asked, leading the group of his two brothers and his son into the Great Hall. Brian had moved to the hearth and the men joined him there.

“Aye, what I have to tell you goes no farther than the four of us. For now. Do you understand?” Brian demanded, glancing at each of them.

“What is it, Father?” Trevor wondered. His frown was dark.

“For the last several days, nay weeks, I have been finding clues. I am convinced Finius Loutrant still lives,” Brian said, getting straight to the point.

“What?” Stephen shook his head, confusion evident all over his face. “Nay, Brian, it cannot be.”

“I imagine the first thought in all your heads is I have lost my mind.” Brian shook his head. “I have thought so myself, especially with what I first found.”

“Which was?” Lucien asked, propping his leg up on the bench by the hearth, and leaning against it.

Brian handed them the three scraps of material with the Loutrant lion embroidery.

“The first I found back behind the castle and it was the largest piece. The next was caught on an old branch by the abbey ruins.”

“And the last?” Stephen held up the partially singed piece.

“Inside the burning stables when I went inside to get Trevor,” Brian replied.

Stephen grimaced and considered all three pieces. “I see. Well, it is indeed the Loutrant crest, but…”

“But what?” Trevor asked.

For a moment none of them replied. The only sound around them was the crackle of the wood in the hearth.

“Trevor you were not there,” Stephen said, “but the three of us all saw Loutrant fall from the tower into the sea below.” He shook his head. “Nay, it cannot be.”

“Yet how do you explain these then?” Trevor demanded.

“The more likely explanation is someone wants us to think Loutrant is alive,” Lucien spoke up. “These little scraps are being placed around the castle so they can be found. It is no accident, surely, one was found in the stable fire. Likely the man who planted them also started the fire.”

Brian nodded his agreement. He had been convinced of the very same just a short time ago. At the moment he was gladdened Lucien hadn’t mentioned the possibility that the likely explanation was Brian had lost his wits.

“Who would do that though?” Trevor asked.

Stephen shrugged. “Loutrant’s half-brother Marcus. I’ve seen him on Fitzroy land before while you were still being held prisoner.”

“A good candidate, aye,” Brian agreed. “He’s always been under his brother’s thumb and is easily swayed to do Loutrant’s bidding.”

“Damn. What is that simpleton up to?” Lucien asked.

“I agree that it is the simplest and easiest explanation,” Brian spoke quietly. “But I fear it is not the real one.”

“Brian…” Stephen opened his mouth to protest.

He’d waited until the end to show them the other bit of evidence he had to prove Loutrant was likely still alive. Brian held out his hand, fist clenched, then turned it over and opened his palm.

“A ring?” Trevor craned his neck.

“Not just any ring,” Brian replied. “This is Loutrant’s ring. I found it in the graveyard.”

“I don’t understand,” his son said.

“He was wearing it when he fell from the tower,” Stephen said.

****

Brian waited in the courtyard for the king’s party.

They’d been spotted some time ago in the distance, but they had almost nearly arrived now.

Trevor stood to his right, Constance to his left. She’d been strangely quiet the last few days. Each night they came together to make love, but afterward she remained withdrawn. Reminded him of himself a bit.

Next to Constance stood Stephen. Lucien was lying in bed with a fever he caught when learning of the king’s impending arrival.

Why was the king coming to see them when he’d only been there a few short months ago? The question had been plaguing his mind since he’d received the missive.

“What do you suppose he wants?” Trevor whispered to his father.

“He’s not here yet, Trevor, you needn’t whisper,” Brian told him. “His message didn’t say.”

“Well, what do you think?” Trevor demanded, frowning.

Brian shrugged.

“You must have some theories,” Stephen added.

But he didn’t. Not a one. Brian supposed they were all used to the wisdom of Nick and were looking to him to come up with the answer. Only he couldn’t.

“I have no earthly notion,” Brian assured them.

“What do you think, Constance?” Stephen asked her.

“What?” She started.

Stephen smiled. “I was asking you why you thought King Edward was coming.”

“Oh, um.” Constance licked her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I am sure whatever Brian said is correct.”

Trevor laughed. “He said he didn’t know.”

“Oh.” Constance reddened.

“Are you all right, Con?” Stephen arched an eyebrow. “You seem miles away.”

“Aye, I am.”

“Miles away or all right?” Brian teased.

“Both.” Constance smiled, though it was forced.

Brian wanted to ask her what was bothering her but did not want to call too much attention to their relationship. They’d already been getting a lot of looks from his brothers and now even his son eyed them curiously.

For the moment, Brian returned his gaze and his thoughts to the king and his arriving entourage. They would be within the inner bailey any moment.

In the few months since Brian had last seen the king, Edward had lost weight and his bearded face was thin and gaunt. He leaned to the left side and his eyelids drooped heavily.

Brian moved forward to greet the king as one of the king’s advisors helped him down from his horse.

“Majesty, ‘tis good to see you again.”

Edward’s smile was strained. “Forgive my appearance, Fitzroy. I have been ill the last two days of the journey.”

“I will see you receive perfect care while you rest here, sire.” Brian called for a servant and then instructed the man to fetch the healer at once.

“Lady Constance, pray attend me,” the king said to Constance.

Constance hurried to the king’s side and took his arm.

Brian watched Constance and Edward head into the castle with the help of one of the guards who had accompanied him.

“Fitzroy.”

Brian turned toward the man who’d spoken. It was a face he recognized as someone he’d fostered with when they were both young boys.

“Thomas Wentworth?” Brian asked, just to be sure he was not mistaken.

The man grinned. “That’s right. I’m the Earl of Trumley now.”

“I am sorry about your father,” Brian said, patting Thomas on the arm.

“Yours as well,” Trumley returned.

“You accompany the king now?”

“Aye.” Trumley studied Brian hard. “How are you?”

“Well enough. And you?”

“Good.”

Brian asked the question most interesting him. “Do you know why the king wanted to come here?”

Trumley smiled and glanced toward the castle doors. “‘Tis no sinister visit. He likes the Fitzroys.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “He never used to.”

“As long as he feels up to traveling, we will only be here but a day or two,” Trumley explained. “We are on our way to Lancaster.”

Brian frowned. “His majesty doesn’t have a reason to come here?”

“He’s been concerned about you since the Loutrant incident, Brian, ‘tis all.” Trumley sighed. “Unfortunately, yesterday he started feeling ill.”

“Our healer will see to him,” Brian assured the earl. “Come, you must be tired.”

“And hungry.”

Brian laughed.

****

“Who is that woman?”

Trumley, who sat next to Brian on the long wooden bench at the dining table, leaned over to whisper his question.

Brian followed Trumley’s finger. Constance. She had just laughed at something the king said, flinging her braid back as she did.

“No one,” Brian muttered.

“She’s beautiful. Come on, Fitzroy, who is she? You have no sisters.” Trumley picked up his pigeon leg and took a large bite of the bird.

Brian watched Constance in silence for a moment. She sat at the large table directly next to the king, whose color had already improved since his arrival. She did look particularly fetching in the deep purple gown with the forest green under-dress. Her raven locks were braided through with gold thread. He could hardly blame Trumley for his admiration.

“Her name is Constance,” Brian replied at last, his fingers tightening around his goblet of watered wine.

“And who is her husband?” Trumley asked, none too subtly.

Brian rolled his eyes. “She has no husband.”

Trumley’s smile brightened. “Oh?”

“Yet,” Brian added.

“Ah, I see. She is betrothed then.”

Brian wanted to seize on the idea. He enjoyed the look of disappointment on Trumley’s face. Constance was his. Wasn’t she? He glanced uncertainly in her direction. They’d spent a few nights together but they meant more, didn’t they?

Trumley finished the leg of pigeon and reached for the slice of rare meat on his trencher. He continued to stare at Constance.

“Who is her betrothed? Telford?” Trumley glanced around the table. “Where is he anyway?”

“He has gone to help Nick with his new castle.”

Trumley nodded. “I recall the king gifted Nicholas with the Loutrant place. So is he Lady Constance’s betrothed?”

Brian decided to be deliberately obtuse. “Nick has a wife…Marion. She expects his child in the spring.”

“Telford,” Trumley said dryly.

“Nay, Constance is not betrothed to Telford,” Brian said through gritted teeth.

“Surely not Stephen?”

The incredulous look on his friend’s face annoyed Brian. What was wrong with Stephen?

“Nay, ‘tis not Stephen.”

“Who then?” Trumley tapped his fingers impatiently on the table.

“No one, Trumley. Constance is not betrothed,” Brian snapped.

The interest sparked in Trumley’s eyes instantly. An odd, confident smirk came over his face. Brian itched to wipe it off. He was not jealous. Definitely not.

Down the table, Constance laughed at something the king said. Both men turned their attention fully to her.

“She’s absolutely captivating,” Trumley whispered. “You know, I have been looking for a bride.”

Constance with Trumley? Nay.

Constance with anyone other than himself was beyond comprehension. It was time to set his friend straight.

“Trumley…”

But the earl had risen from the bench and was straightening his tunic, his gaze fixed intently on his prey. He took a step forward.

“Wait. Trumley, wait.” Brian grabbed the man’s arm but Trumley shrugged it off and walked directly over to Constance, who smiled at Trumley in a way she had not smiled at Brian in a few days. His gut twisted.

It was nothing. She was merely being polite. But a part of him realized Constance might welcome interaction with a man who did not remind her of the nightmare of Loutrant. Her time spent with him was always touched with it.

Brian looked away from the sight of the earl with Constance. He stared down at his mostly untouched trencher.

“Is there something the matter?” Trevor asked him from across the table.

Brian attempted a smile but was afraid he’d failed. “‘Tis naught.”

Trevor inclined his head. “I’m not really very hungry. Do you mind if we go somewhere to talk?”

Relieved to escape his own absurd jealousy, Brian eagerly nodded.

“I’ll excuse us with the king,” Brian told Trevor, rising.

Moments later, Brian and his son had gone up to the battlements where all was quiet. Brian temporarily dismissed the guards from it and gazed out into the night.

“It’s colder out here than I thought it would be,” Trevor said with a scowl. He rubbed his arms.

Brian had to smile. Lord, his son still seemed so young. Had he ever been as young? Rash and impulsive, aye. Oblivious and insensitive, too. But as young as Trevor was? He didn’t imagine so.

Trevor didn’t say anything further for a while and Brian started to wonder just what his son wanted to talk about.

“Did you want to talk about the girl you slept with?” Brian asked, wincing at his own lack of delicacy. He never had been very good at this sort of thing.

Trevor flushed and quickly glanced away. “Nay.”

Trevor shifted away from the edge of the battlements and rubbed his arms. He looked vaguely uncomfortable.

“Well?” Brian persisted.