Lespada (38 page)

“As I recall,” she began thoughtfully, “when I opened the door downstairs to find you standing there, you told me that it was my lucky day and if I behaved in a manner that pleased you, I could have both de Winter brothers for the price of one.”

Hugh’s face flushed a dull red as Davyss swung on him, his features taut with outrage. “Did you say that to her?” he bellowed.

Hugh began backing out of the room, the very reason he had refused to fully enter the chamber in the first place. He knew his brother’s temper. He wanted to be able to make a fast retreat.

“I… I do not recall,” he stammered. “I might have said something… but I did not mean it the way it sounded!”

Davyss was charging across the room towards his brother. “You bastard,” he snarled. “You hate her because she did not succumb to your foolish proposition? Is that it?”

Devereux bolted up from the bed, jumping on the mattress and taking a flying leap at her husband as he passed by.   She slammed into him and he teetered off balance, hitting the wall as he threw his arms around her simply to keep her from falling to the floor.

“Nay, Davyss,” she begged, awkwardly clinging to him. “You will not strike him.”

Davyss was so furious that his nostrils were flaring. “Did he really say that to you?”

She nodded hesitantly. “But I did not give it a second thought, not until this very moment. It was not the reason I slammed the door in his face.  I slammed the door because I did not want to marry you but we both know that has since changed.”

She was smiling by the time she was finished speaking and Davyss stared at her expression a moment before sighing heavily, possibly in resignation.  He shifted his grip on her and carried her back to bed, gently laying her upon the mattress.

“You should not have done that,” he wagged a finger at her.

She looked up at him innocently. “What? Slammed the door in Hugh’s face?”

He scowled. “Nay,” he snapped without force. “Jump on me like that. You could have hurt yourself.”

“I shall do it again unless you promise me you will not charge your brother.”

He rolled his eyes but offered his irritated compliance when she pressed him again.  His gaze lingered on Hugh, still near the door, before turning back to the window.  When Devereux was sure he wasn’t going to charge Hugh again, she returned her focus to the younger brother.

“Hugh,” she began. “Let us be completely honest with each other. You do not hate me so much as you are angry with me; angry that I did not succumb to your charms the day you came to escort me to my wedding and angry because I asked your brother to remove the whores from Wintercroft. Is this statement any way untrue?”

Hugh’s brow was furrowed and he refused to look at her.  “It… it was not your right.”

She gazed steadily at him. “You are correct; it was not my right,” she said softly. “I did it for selfish reasons and for that, I am sorry. I did not want those women around because I was uncertain of my relationship with your brother at the time, uncertain if he would prefer me over them. Now that I know he would never do anything to shame me, I understand that what I did was completely self-serving. If I were to allow those women to return to Wintercroft, would it make you happy?”

He looked at her, then.  He could see that Davyss had turned away from the window and was looking at him, too.  In fact, Davyss moved away from the window and sat on the bed next to his wife, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in the side of her head.  Hugh watched the affection, the completely adoration, in his brother’s actions and he was surprised by it. He’d never seen his brother behave in such a way before. There was something about it that made him strangely jealous.  He felt the fight, the anger, suddenly draining out of him.

“Perhaps,” he replied belatedly.  He suddenly seemed disinterested and distracted, anxious to leave. “Is there anything else you wished to speak with me about?”

Devereux wouldn’t push him. It was the first conversation in a line of many she intended to have with him, so she let him go for the moment.

“Nay,” she replied. “Thank you for your time.”

Hugh’s gaze traveled back and forth between his brother and his brother’s wife before silently departing the room. Davyss held her in his arms, thinking many different things at that moment; he felt like the most fortunate man alive.  Devereux had shown him so much of life that he had never imagined to exist, her wisdom and kindness without measure.  He knew his brother would come around eventually. He squeezed her gently before letting her go.

“You tried to right things with him,” he said quietly. “I applaud your attempt.”

She wriggled her eyebrows. “I do not know if I did any good, but I hope so,” she said. “I should not like to be at odds with your brother for the rest of my life.”

“I am sure you will not be,” he said. “He will eventually see the error of his ways.”

Devereux kept silent on that matter; Hugh seemed to be even more arrogant than Davyss had been so she wondered if he would ever overcome it. 

“Perhaps,” she said vaguely, changing the subject. “When are we leaving for London?”

He stood up from the bed, scratching his head wearily. “Do you suppose it would be too much to ask that we sleep here tonight and get an early start in the morning?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I will tell the servants that we will all be supping here tonight.”

“I can do it,” he was moving for the door, pointing a finger at her. “I want you to stay there and rest. Is that clear?”

She nodded obediently. “Aye, sweetheart.”

“Good.”

He winked at her as he quit the chamber, leaving Devereux alone in the room, smiling at the mere thought of him.  She could not adequately describe the joy in her heart for the man, the love she felt for him defying explanation.  She had so much in her life to be grateful for, and grateful she was. Her happiness was nearly complete and she thanked God repeatedly for it.

Later that night, she miscarried the child.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The great hall of the Tower of London was full of the nobles and fighting men of England.   Davyss had spent hours in conference with de Montfort’s barons, men had fought with and against for many years. They were all surprised to see a de Winter at de Montfort’s side, but the older barons who had known Grayson de Winter also knew that he and Simon had been the best of friends. To them, it was therefore not so surprising.  Still, Davyss de Winter had been a staunch supporter of Henry.  It was odd to see him on the other side.

It was evident very early on that de Montfort was determined to give the rule of England to the people through their representatives.  He insisted that each borough send two elected representatives, something that seemed to upset the nobles because they were concerned that it would affect their rule over their own lands.  Those who had strongly supported de Montfort were now secretly wondering if they should have supported someone who intended to give the country back to the people and not directly back to the nobility.  Davyss had listened to their growing dissention for several days now, digesting it, and preparing plans of his own.

He ended up back at Hollyhock, telling his knights to meet him in a half hour up in his solar.  The evening was humid and he was sweating rivers as he made his way into the house and up to the third floor. He didn’t even bother greeting his mother, who was down in her solar with her ladies and her dogs.  Hugh went in to see her but Davyss did not.  His one and only thought at the moment was to see his wife.

He found Devereux sitting in the lounge chair of their massive chamber, positioned by the window to catch the last rays of the dying sun.  She was wearing a lovely yellow surcoat, her luscious hair pulled to the nape of her neck as she focused on a piece of needlework in her hand. 

Davyss entered the chamber, pulling his damp tunic over his head as he approached her.  But the moment the tunic came over his head and his gaze focused on her, he came to a halt.

“What is that?” he jabbed a finger at her.

Devereux looked up from her sewing, having no idea what he was talking about until she followed his focus.  At the foot of the lounge, lying very contentedly, was a small puppy with fuzzy orange hair.  She smiled at her husband’s outrage.

“Your mother gave him to me,” she said. “Isn’t he sweet?”

Davyss made a face as he tossed the soiled tunic to the floor. “Are you serious, woman?” he began to unhappily unlatch his armor. “A dog?”

Devereux giggled. “His name is Louie. You must be very nice to him.”

Davyss continued to make faces as he removed his armor, eyeing the dog.  In truth, he wasn’t all that mad about it; it was the first time she had smiled in days. Devereux had been depressed and sad since her miscarriage two weeks before, a state he had tried desperately to pull her out of. Leaving the House of Hope with Stephan Longham and his brothers in charge, he had taken her to London in the hope that it would improve her health and spirit. But it had worked the opposite effect; she refused to leave Hollyhock at all, staying to their rooms and only coming downstairs to eat when Lady Katharine pleaded.  She had been reclusive and quiet, something that disturbed Davyss tremendously.

Davyss had also been worried about his mother’s reaction to the loss of an heir, adding to his stress, but his mother had been surprisingly sympathetic.  He found out why one night after they had both imbibed too much wine; Lady Katharine had suffered four miscarriages prior to Davyss’ healthy birth.  He’d never known that. Moreover, she had another two miscarriages between Davyss and Hugh.  So his mother understood well what Devereux was experiencing. 

Katharine reassured her son that there would be more children someday.  Davyss didn’t care about any more children at the moment; he simply wanted a happy, healthy wife again.  Even with all of the turmoil going on with de Montfort, it was all he could think about.

Therefore, the addition of the little dog didn’t distress him as much as he pretended it did.  When he bent over to kiss his wife in greeting, the puppy rolled over, struggled to his feet, and barked.  Devereux laughed as Davyss scowled.

“You foolish little mutt,” he scolded. “You shall not chase me from my own wife.”

The dog growled and wriggled its tail, finally taking the hem of his wife’s gown and chewing enthusiastically on it. Devereux continued to laugh as Davyss just shook his head at the puppy’s antics.  He went back to the chamber door and called to the servants for hot water.

“Did you have a pleasant day, sweetheart?” Devereux asked as she turned back to her sewing.

He thought on the irony of that question, knowing she had no idea the depth that the answer would contain. So he kept it simple.

“It was busy,” he removed the last of his armor and went to work on the damp linen tunic underneath. “What did you do today?”

She sighed faintly, looking up from her needlework to the western sky with his myriad of colors. “I helped Frances pack,” she said. “She is going to be with Nik, you know.”

“I know.”