When most of the possessions were removed from her chamber, Hugh stood in the hall with a guarded expression. Davyss finally reached out and grabbed his brother by the shoulder, dragging him into the room that looked very much like a woman lived there. Hugh stood by the door and wouldn’t go any further.
He and Devereux regarded each other; the last time they had met was under violent circumstances. Hugh wasn’t sure if he was in for a verbal lashing so he stayed close to the door in case he needed to get away quickly. After a few moments of uncertain staring, Devereux finally spoke.
“I am thankful that you were not hurt in the battle,” she said.
Hugh’s gaze flickered nervously. “Thank… thank you, my lady.”
He was stiff and wary. Devereux glanced at Davyss before continuing. “Hugh, I wanted to apologize to you,” she said. “Back at Wintercroft, I should not have confronted you as I did. You were upset and I fear my attempts to soothe the situation only worsened it. Please understand what I did, I did so that you and your brother would not be at odds. It was not my intention to upset you further. Please believe me.”
Hugh stared at her, seeing an incredibly beautiful woman and understanding why she had his brother so smitten. But her apology had him confused and on edge. Women, at least in his experience, were usually very good at manipulating men. He couldn’t be certain that Devereux wasn’t making the attempt.
“I understand,” he said evenly. “Is that all you wished to speak to me about?”
To his right, Davyss grunted irritably but Devereux shot him a quelling look. It was enough to cause Davyss to move away from his brother, finding interest in the view outside the window so he would not jump down his brother’s throat. Devereux waited until he was well away before returning her focus to Hugh.
“We cannot go through life hating each other, Hugh,” she said quietly. “I wanted you to know that I was sorry for my words or deeds that offended you that night. I should like it if you and I could at least be civil to each other, for your brother’s sake.”
Hugh’s jaw ticked as he gazed at her. “You are my brother’s wife,” he said. “For no other reason that than, I will be civil to you. But do not expect more.”
Devereux watched Davyss clench and unclench his fists out of the corner of her eye; she knew he was working up his temper.
“Please tell me what it is I have done that has offended you so?” she asked Hugh. “Whatever it is, I will apologize for it. I will take the blame.”
“Blame?” Hugh repeated, incredulous. “Where shall I start, lady? The very first moment you saw me, you rudely slammed a door in my face. And that was just the beginning.”
Devereux thought back to that dark day in this very manse. It was jumbled full of emotion, but she remembered it quite clearly. As she did so, something began to occur to her.
“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 SEVENTEEN
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 he 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.”
“Lollardly sent word that he will be arriving on the morrow to take her to Sussex.”
Davyss nodded faintly; he knew that. He had been the one to receive the missive, in fact, that Nik was still alive at Lewes Castle. Frances, usually so dour and humorless, had wept profusely at the news of her husband’s injury and was eager to be with him. Davyss missed Nik’s presence a great deal in these times of trial and tried not to be selfish about it. He was just glad the man had apparently pulled through.
“Is that all you did today, then?”
She half-shrugged, half-nodded. “Aye,” she replied, reaching out to pet the puppy. “Louie and I have been very companionable loafing about.”
He pulled off the damp tunic, hearing the servants in the small servant’s alcove between the rooms as they began to fill a big copper tub with steaming water.
“I have heard something that I think might interest you,” he said casually, unlacing the top of his breeches. “Perhaps you will not want to loaf around when you hear it.”
She didn’t seem particularly curious. “What is it?”
“Well,” he sat on the bed and began to remove his heavy boots. “With all of the nobility in town, someone brought up the bright idea to have a tournament celebrating de Montfort’s victory. Everyone seemed to think it was a brilliant idea.”
“Why would that interest me?”
“Because I have been goaded into competing.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “What?” she looked horrified. “You… you are going to compete in a tournament?”
He looked at her, amused. “And why not? I am the reigning grand champion at the tournaments in Greenwich, Oxford, Banbury, Thetford and Northampton. I am fairly good at it.”
She just stared at him a moment before turning back to her sewing. “Of course you are, sweetheart,” she murmured softly.
He was about to remove his breeches but stopped when he heard her tone. He went over to her, bare feet against the wooden floor.
“What is wrong?” he asked quietly.
Sh
e shook her head even though she wouldn’t look up at him. “Nothing,” she insisted weakly. “I… I am simply hungry. It should be time for sup soon. Aren’t you hungry?”
He lifted an eyebrow; he didn’t believe her for a moment. He gently shoved her over on the lounge, sitting down beside her and taking her into his powerful arms. Devereux surrendered to his warmth and power, collapsing against him and burying her face in his sweaty, musky chest. It was like heaven.
“Do you not like tournaments?” he asked softly, giving her a squeeze. “They are very exciting and great sport, I might add.”
She shifted so the left side of her head was against his chest. She could hear his heart beating strong and steady.
“Nay,” she whispered. “I do not like them.”
“Why not?”
She sighed faintly, thinking. “I saw you compete in a tournament three years ago in Acle,” she said softly. “Do you recall that tournament?”
He grunted. “Of course. I won the joust.”
“I know,” her voice was faint. “It was the first time I ever saw you, though I cannot recall paying terribly close attention. It was my first tournament and my father insisted I attend, so the entire spectacle was rather overwhelming. I do believe my father wanted me to attend because he wanted to attract a husband for me. This was before your mother approached him with a contract. Three years ago, I was still very much an unattached maiden.”
He grinned, hugging her tightly. “Thank God that no one approached your father before my mother could get to him,” he kissed the top of her head. “I am surprised that I did not notice you. Usually, I….”
He suddenly stopped before he could get himself into trouble. Devereux grinned, lifting her head from his chest to look him in the eye.
“You usually… what?” she pressed.
He shook his head and tried to get up, but she sat on him and pushed him down. “Let me see if I can finish your statement,” she teased. “Usually you spied all of the beautiful women within the first hour of your arrival and picked off your conquests one by one, as a good hunter would, until none were left standing in the end. Am I right?”
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