Dyl was more concerned with those women hurting Alyx than he was for helping Lionel. Already, his sister was hurt, but he understood Lionel to mean that those women intended to hurt Alyx even more. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the wherewithal to ask more questions. Dyl was only really capable of taking direction and nothing more.
If Alyx was at stake, then he would do whatever was asked of him to help her.
“I will help Alyx,” he said.
That was all Lionel needed to hear. Torston thought he was mad and so did Winslow, but in Dyl, he found someone he could manipulate. Lionel believed Lady Lilia and her women had come to sabotage them all and Dyl would help him learn the truth. It didn’t matter that he was using a poor unfortunate lad for his own purposes. What mattered was that with the information Dyl provided, Lionel would know if Lady Lilia was in league with Douglas Kerr.
He couldn’t wait to prove that to Torston.
The entertainment wasn’t even finished when Lionel took Dyl from the hall, mostly because Lady Antonia and her women were still in the hall and Lionel wanted to plant Dyl in their chambers before they retired. He knew The Lyceum and knew how to get the young man into the suite of chambers so no one would be the wiser. How he was going to explain Dyl’s activities to Winslow was another matter altogether, but he couldn’t worry about that at the moment.
He had a spy to plant.
They were all in the hall, feasting.
Alyx knew this because she could smell the food and heard the distant beat of drums. The Nubians, she thought. She wished that she was there to watch them, but there was no possibility that she was going to make it into the hall on this night.
Distress was making her sick.
She felt guilty for believing Lady Antonia and the other women, even with the evidence before her. But the fact that Morley was there and had spoken against Torston was what had her in knots.
She’d known Morley almost as long as she’d known Torston and she’d never known him to be anything but humble and obedient. He never spoke very much, as he was always dashing to and fro to ensure Lionel’s wishes were carried out. He was obsessive when it came to Lionel’s comfort, almost like a wife taking care of a husband. Those were the whispers around The Lyceum and had been since Morley had first come to serve Lionel.
Lionel’s wife.
Caesar’s wife certain found his voice today.
Was it possible there really were two Torstons?
Alyx reflected back on the years she’d known the knight. He’d been professional and polite with her when she was younger, even when she would follow him around, hanging on his every word. Never once had he been cruel or dismissive, although she knew there had been times when he’d hidden from her or run from her.
But she hardly cared.
In truth, if someone had behaved that annoyingly with her, she would have done the same thing. She didn’t blame him. But never in that time had she ever received any impression that he was wicked.
Not once.
That made Lady Lilia’s torn dress all the more distressing.
Lady Lilia…
She was the unknown factor in all of this. Alyx had spoken to her that afternoon, but it had been a one-sided conversation. Lilia had barely said word through any of it. She’d come across like a meek, well-behaved lady who had trouble making eye contact, but the truth was that Alyx didn’t know her at all. It could very well be an act. The woman had tipped her hand when she’d shown up at The Lyceum uninvited. That showed how eager she was to marry Torston.
Perhaps the meek, mild Lady Lilia was really a dragon lady underneath. Perhaps she’d torn her own clothing and perhaps her ladies were simply following her direction. All except Lady Antonia… Alyx had the impression that the woman didn’t follow anything she didn’t want to. She had a strength about her that was intimidating.
But she’d been holding the de Royans signet ring.
She had what Alyx so badly wanted.
Miserable, Alyx put her head in her hands.
A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts and instantly, she was standing up, on edge.
“Who comes?” she demanded.
“’Tis your father,” Winslow said, his voice muffled through the door.
Alyx hesitated before going to the door and unbolting it, peering outside to make sure her father was alone.
“Aye, Papa?” she asked, eyeing him through a crack in the door.
He lifted his eyebrows. “May I come in?” he asked. “Or are you hiding someone in there?”
Alyx yanked open the door wide. “Who would I be hiding?” she said, standing aside as he entered but then slamming the door and bolting it. “It is only I.”
Winslow thought it odd she was locking her doors. She didn’t normally do that. “I missed you at sup,” he said. “Are you feeling better?”
She wasn’t; she was feeling worse, but she was afraid to tell her father what, exactly, ailed her. He would just chide her and tell her it was foolish because Torston was of no concern to her.
Perhaps that had been true once, but no longer. The past several days had seen the situation between Alyx and Torston change dramatically. Winslow simply didn’t understand, but Alyx wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him.
She was so confused she didn’t know what to say.
“I will be fine,” she said, going to sit on her bed. “I’m simply… tired.”
“Tired?”
“My head aches.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“Can we go home tomorrow?”
Winslow eyed her a moment before going to the bed, putting his hand on her forehead. “No fever,” he said, dropping his hand. “I thought surely you were quite ill to be asking such a question. Usually, you never want to leave The Lyceum.”
She shook her head, averting her gaze and realizing she was verging on tears. “I am not certain I want to be here now,” she said. “Torston’s betrothed is here and… I do not think I want to be here right now.”
Winslow suspected that was the problem. “I heard you had a conversation with her today,” he said. “Dyl told me.”
Alyx nodded. “I did speak with her, but only to be polite,” she said. “She did not say much, to be truthful. She seems rather quiet and meek.”
“Is she?” Winslow said. “I’ve not met her yet. She did not come to the feast tonight, either.”
That’s because she’s bruised and beaten, Alyx thought. But she didn’t say so. She simply nodded her head, toying with a one of her sleeves in a nervous gesture.
“Papa,” she said after a moment. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Do you remember when Torston first came to The Lyceum?”
Winslow pondered her question, lowering himself onto the nearest chair. “It was several years ago,” he said. “At least ten, I think. Why do you ask?”
The fidgeting with the sleeve increased. “I was just wondering if you remember him,” she said. “If you heard anything about him when he first arrived. Did Lord Harringham tell you about Torston? For example, where he came from and his reputation?”
Winslow thought on that. “He came from Norwich Castle, I believe,” he said. “He served de Winter before he came north to serve Harringham. Lionel only mentioned that he was a fine young knight.”
“Did you ever hear anything about a bastard son?”
That brought Winslow pause. “Who told you that?”
“It was something I heard. Is it true?”
Winslow sat there for a moment, thinking on that very thing. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “But I do recall hearing something about it. You know how soldiers talk. I believe Lance said something about it, but I cannot recall for certain.”
She looked at him, then. “If you heard about it, then it must be true,” she said. “Why did you never tell me?”
His brow furrowed. “True or not, it is no concern of yours, Alyx,” he said. “You were very
young when you first met Torston, when this alleged child was born. It was none of your affair and it still isn’t.”
Alyx’s cheeks turned red as she lowered her head again. It was difficult for her to keep her composure in the face of her father’s confirming statement – I do recall hearing something about it. That made her feel sick to her stomach because it made everything else Morley and the women told her easier to believe.
God, was all of it really true?
“I am not a child any longer, Papa,” she snapped softly. “You cannot speak to me as if I have no mind and no heart and no sense of moral direction. I have loved Torston for nine long years. Of course this is my business. Am I loving a man who is so careless with women that he has a bastard? Is that what kind of man Torston is?”
She was verging on tears again and Winslow could see that something was very wrong. Alyx had always been the emotional type, but this was different. Deeper. He looked at her with concern.
“I do not think he is careless,” he said quietly. “I’ve not heard anything about him to that regard, Alyx. But men have been known to make mistakes, even fine men. It could be the child was nothing more than a mistake. It could be that he loved the mother and was unable to marry her. Who knows the circumstances? As for you loving him, I realize you are no longer a child, but as a grown woman, surely you understand the futility of loving Torston. His fiancée is in this keep, for God’s sake. Would you shame yourself and our entire family by throwing yourself at a man in front of his intended?”
Alyx didn’t have an answer for him. She’d done far more than throw herself at Torston, only her father could never know that. She didn’t want to say anything about it because her father’s health was fragile. She didn’t want to upset him. Therefore, she struggled to compose herself.
“Of course not,” she said quietly. “Have more faith in me than that. The only thing I did today was show Lady Lilia around the garden and nothing more. I did not throw myself at Torston in the least.”
Winslow stood up from the chair, wearily. “I am glad to hear that,” he said. “In answer to your question, we will go home tomorrow. The sooner, the better, I think.”
Alyx simply nodded, her head hung, and Winslow bent over to kiss her on the head. He was exhausted and ready for sleep.
“Papa?”
He paused by the door. “What is it?”
It seemed as if she wanted to say something but she lost her nerve and hung her head again. “Nothing,” she said. “I love you, Papa. Thank you for… just thank you.”
Winslow smiled wearily at her. “I love you, also,” he said. “Now, get some sleep. You look as if you could use it.”
Alyx watched her father go, rising to shut the door behind him and bolt it. Her conversation with him had certain been enlightening, but it hadn’t been what she wanted to hear. So Torston had a bastard son; even her father had heard of it. He’d tried to downplay it, as if it was only gossip, and she would have believed that if Morley hadn’t said the same thing.
Two men telling her the very same thing.
Torston had conceived a child with another woman.
Her depression was complete. Alyx sank down onto her bed once more, pondering the situation. She felt such guilt at not having more faith in Torston, but the evidence was damning. She couldn’t be naïve.
Was it possible there was really something to it?
Laying back on the bed, she found herself staring at the ceiling, thinking on Torston and on his behavior toward her versus the behavior others were telling him about. A man of character on one side, a man of evil on the other.
What was the truth?
What would he say if she confronted him?
She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
One thing Lionel always insisted upon was the number of torches to light up The Lyceum at night.
Hundreds.
Literally, hundreds of torches lined the walls, the bailey, the keep, the gardens, and so forth. Every inch of The Lyceum was lit up against the black sky, creating a beacon that could be seen for miles. The borders could be as black as tar on a moonless night, but The Lyceum would be lit up like heaven itself.
As Morley crossed the bailey, heading for the gatehouse in search of Torston, he kept count of the torches that had burned out over the course of the night. He would make sure to tell Torston that they needed to be relit in case Lionel happened to see them. Torston had a theory that Lionel was fearful of the dark, hence the unusual amounts of torches he insisted upon. Morley wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but it was his job to ensure Lionel’s wishes were followed.
Always.
Coming to the gatehouse, he was halfway up the stone steps leading to the wall walk when he happened to catch sight of two knights and a horse coming from the stable area. Morley paused, seeing that it was Torston and Lance Brockenhurst. Lance was leading his mount and he was dressed for travel on this moonlit night. Morley watched curiously as Torston walked Lance all the way to the portcullis.
“What are you doing here, Morley?”
Morley turned to see Jess standing a few steps above him. He gestured to the gatehouse. “I was looking for Torston,” he said. “Where is Brockenhurst going?”
Jess liked to talk. That was an established fact around The Lyceum. He was always good for some gossip, or information, or both, even though Torston had told him many times to keep his mouth shut. Jess did, or at least he thought he did, but as Morley asked the question, he saw no harm in telling the majordomo of The Lyceum.
“Back to Makendon Castle to gather his things,” he said. “Lord de Ameland is sending the man on a fact-finding mission to Elmington House to ease Great Caesar’s anxiety.”
Morley looked at him curiously. “What anxiety?”
Jess took a step toward him, lowering his voice. “You know that Torston’s betrothed has come uninvited.”
“I do, indeed.”
“Harringham has some delusion that the girl is in league with Douglas Kerr,” he muttered. “He thinks the girl is here at Douglas’ urging to undermine The Lyceum. It’s madness, of course, but Harringham seems convinced. Has he not said anything to you about it?”
Morley looked at him in shock. “He has not,” he said. “He really thinks Lady Lilia is allied with Douglas Kerr somehow?”
Jess nodded. “The man is losing his grip on reality,” he sighed. “Suddenly, he doesn’t trust anyone. He fears that Lord Winslow is in league with Kerr and now he’s suspicious of Lady Lilia. He’s seeing things that are not there, Morley. But that’s not the only reason Lance is going to Elmington House.”
“What else could there be?”
Jess lifted his eyebrows. “It’s no secret that Torston isn’t happy about marrying Lilia,” he said, lowering his voice like a good gossip. “He’s hoping Lance will discover information that can help Torston break the contract. It seems no one wants that girl here, least of all Torston.”
Morley could always count on Jess to tell him what he shouldn’t know. Torston wanted to break the contract? In truth, that wasn’t surprising. Torston had his eyes on Alyx de Ameland; they all knew that. But this was the first Morley had heard that Torston was going to make an active effort to break the betrothal his father brokered.
“I see,” Morley said, trying not to sound too interested. “I cannot imagine it will be easy to break such a contract. It has existed for several years. It would take serious charges, indeed, for the church to consider it.”
Jess shrugged. “Torston is hoping that Lance will discover something,” he said. “But let us continue to speak of Great Caesar. His behavior seems to have changed over the past several days. Have you not noticed?”
Morley’s thoughts were still whirling around Torston’s desire to break the contract. He had to force himself to return his focus to Lionel. He hadn’t really spoken to the man in depth in the past few days other than short directives here and there. The last time he spo
ke with him at all was when he convinced him to hold a feast to welcome Lady Lilia to The Lyceum. Lionel had been fairly easy to convince. Therefore, this paranoia that Jess spoke of was new to him.
But sending Lance Brockenhurst to investigate Lady Lilia… that was a much bigger problem.
“Not really,” he said, starting to back down the stairs. “But that reminds me; does Torston plan on returning to the hall?”
“Are Lady Lilia’s women still in the hall?”
“They are. They are asking for him.”
Jess snorted. “When they leave, Torston will return to the hall.”
Morley could see that Torston had no intention of returning to the hall with the women there, so he simply headed back down the stairs. In truth, that seemed to be the least of his problems at the moment. Much was happening on many fronts that Morley hadn’t even been aware of, but thanks to Jess, he knew. So very much could go wrong.
But one problem at a time.
Morley quickly headed for the keep. He had a woman to see.
Torston watched Lance depart The Lyceum until he could no longer see the man. Over the moonlit moors, the knight eventually blended in with the darkness. One normally didn’t travel at night alone, but Lance wanted to get home and get about his mission. There was enough light to travel by on this night and, heavily-armed, he wasn’t concerned.
Neither was Torston. Coming back through the gatehouse, he had the sentries lower the portcullis. He entered the bailey in time to see Morley rushing back into the keep, but he didn’t give the man any thought.
The keep, however, had his attention.
“Torston!” Jess called down from the gatehouse’s second level. “Your betrothed wants to know when you plan to return to the hall!”
Torston gave the man a look of such exasperation that even in the light of the torches, Jess could see it. Torston heard him laugh as he stomped away, heading to the keep.
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