Once a Bride (31 page)
Perhaps he should have let Geoffrey come as he’d offered.
Nay, this was his task to perform. He’d never let another man take over a duty for him in the past, and he wouldn’t now. He was here. He’d carry on and see what happened.
As it happened, Oswald the Warder must have considered him part of the family by now. He simply gave him a greeting and led the way up the stairs.
Sweat formed on Roland’s palms as the door opened. He had nothing to offer Sir John. Not a dram of hope for his freedom. Not an ounce of gold nor even a plate of silver for his daughter.
Only his good name and a promise to take care of her for good or ill, no matter what happened.
The odds weren’t in his favor.
John and Edgar sat at the table, playing yet another game of chess, one of their only entertainments. Edgar rose as Roland entered; John nodded a greeting and then looked past him, expecting to see his son or daughter.
Roland put a hand up to keep Oswald from immediately closing and locking the door.
“Edgar, I beg your indulgence. Some of what I have to say to Sir John must be kept private for the nonce.”
John’s eyes narrowed at the request, but he waved his permission for Edgar to leave.
With the squire out the door and the lock turned, Roland clasped his hands behind his back and crossed the room.
“I take it you bring bad news,” John said. “Has the king ordered the scaffold readied?”
Roland allowed a small smile. “Not so bad as that.”
“Then why so dour?”
He eased into the chair across from John. First things first. Roland related the details of his audience with the king.
“The missive Edward holds must be forged,” John insisted. “I have never dealt with MacLeod. And I certainly sent him no pikes!”
“So your children and I assumed. We also assumed that if the missive is to be used as evidence against you, the handwriting in the missives Lancaster now holds must match the other. If, as you say, the three missives you saw are genuine, written to Kenworth by MacLeod, the fourth must have been written by someone very skilled at copying another’s hand. We concluded the best candidate to be Brother Walter.”
John scratched at his chin. “ ’Tis possible I suppose. The man did have a neat hand, very precise.”
“Unfortunately, even if he is our forger, we do not know where he is. We hoped to question him, get a confession or else find out if he knew who might have forged the missive. The monk left Lelleford with Kenworth, but did not return to London with him. I fear his absence limits our choices of how to proceed.”
Roland expected resignation, and got a wagging finger and thoughtful look instead.
“ ’Tis not surprising Kenworth did not keep him. The monk lost his usefulness, so either Kenworth did away with him or returned him to his monastery.”
Roland felt a glimmer of hope. “Nearby?”
“Evesham Abbey.”
Two days’ ride away. Was there time to fetch the monk and bring him back? Or did he waste his time? ’Twas very possible Kenworth had done away with his spy.
“I will tell Geoffrey.” Now for the hardest part, dealing with John Hamelin the father. “Geoffrey and I also discussed another matter. Eloise.”
John sat back in his chair, drummed his fingers on the table. “What has she done now?”
Roland bit back a smile. “Nothing intemperate.”
“Then what of her?”
Roland explained Geoffrey’s reasoning for wishing Eloise to marry with due haste, to ensure the land and other property of her dowry removed from what the king would confiscate if the worst happened.
All through the explanation, John’s expression changed from irritated to haggard.
“My son prepares for my death.”
Roland realized John had always been concerned over the outcome, but only now faced the fact that he could truly hang.
“Geoffrey yet searches for answers and directs most of his energy toward clearing you of the charges.” It didn’t seem of much comfort to John but it was all Roland could offer. “Your son not only thinks of his sister but his brother. Should the king confiscate all of your holdings, I am sure Geoffrey intends to immediately file a petition, on Julius’s behalf, to reclaim the inheritance.”
“What of Geoffrey’s own inheritance? He is entitled to a good bit of coin.”
“He never mentioned anything for himself.”
John rubbed at his weary eyes. “Because there will be nothing for him if Julius cannot win back my holdings.”
John made Geoffrey’s planning sound selfish. Roland didn’t believe it, but held his peace on the matter.
“Are you opposed to a marriage for Eloise?”
“Not opposed, but God’s wounds, I can think of no man worthy of her who would marry her in such haste with this damnable charge hanging over my head. Does Geoffrey have a man in mind?”
The moment had arrived, and he could truthfully say nay because he wasn’t worthy of Eloise.
“Aye, my lord. Me.”
Roland prepared for battle. John’s stunned look wouldn’t last long. But instead of seething anger, the outburst finally came out in hysterical laughter.
“You? Absurd! A sixth son with no more than a horse or two to his name? Surely, we can do better for her!”
So Roland believed, but he wasn’t about to give up after a single volley. As in every battle, sometimes one needed to try several strategies in order to win the day.
Striving for a tone of calm reasoning, he answered, “If you object to my suit, then pray give me a list of others who may consider the marriage. I would be happy to pass it along to Geoffrey.”
John slowly sobered. “There must be someone.”
“As you say. ’Twould help if the man you chose is here in London, so the marriage can be performed immediately, so there will be no legal entanglements over the transfer of her dowry. Who shall we ask who might be able to overlook the possibility that you will be branded a traitor?”
He saw the answer in John’s face. No one.
“You reach damned high, lad!”
So Roland knew and had admitted as much to Geoffrey.
“I am well aware that under other circumstances I would not be considered.”
John’s eyes narrowed. “You were sent to Lelleford to oversee the holding, not court my daughter. Was that your plan all along, to seek Eloise as your reward from the king?”
He nearly laughed at the accusation.
“Nay, Sir John. I had no such intention. Verily, I wanted nothing to do with her at the time. If you will remember, we were on less than agreeable terms.”
“Ah, yes. She thought you a disagreeable toad.” Roland thought he could very well go through the rest of his life without hearing that again.
“She did. And I thought her too brazen and strong-willed for my taste. I had no designs on her whatsoever.”
“Eloise is still brazen and strong-willed, always will be, and yet you would take her to wife?”
In a heartbeat, and for good or ill, he allowed his mask of calm reasoning to slide away and expose his heart. Let the father take whatever shot he wished.
“I assure you, Sir John, if Eloise came into my reach, as Geoffrey put it, barefoot in her shift, I would still take her. The dowry is of no import, your daughter is.”
John’s disbelief came fast and hard. “You expect me to believe you have developed an affection for Eloise? Come now, Roland, admit you crave the land, the money. For what other reason would you place your future in royal service at risk?”
Roland shook his head. “I love your daughter, Sir John. For no other reason would I consider the marriage.”
John bolted from his chair and turned his back. Roland drew steady breaths against the sour roil of his stomach, prepared for John’s outright refusal. After several long moments, wondering if John meant his silence and refusal to face Roland as his answer, he rose from the chair. His heart heavy, he took a step toward the door.
“You will protect her with your life, Roland.”
He nearly melted into the floor.
“I do most humbly swear.”
“Then I will allow the marriage on one condition.” John finally turned around. “The manor in Durham. Kenworth may try to take it by force if his trickery fails. You will spend whatever you must to man the manor to the rafters and not let Kenworth have it. On my oath, if that manor falls, I will return to haunt you.”
“You have my vow.”
“Then have Geoffrey draw up the betrothal contract. Eloise is aware of every last piece of pewter that comes to her.”
He noticed Sir John said nothing about obtaining Eloise’s agreement, but then, most fathers didn’t consider the daughter’s feelings in such matters.
Roland considered Eloise’s opinion of vital importance, and given her nature, obtaining her agreement might be harder than wrestling it from Sir John.
S
TUNNED, ELOISE listened as Geoffrey and Roland presented her with very good reasons why she should marry with all due haste.
They’d told her about the lack of success in finding Brother Walter and had given her no time to recover before they launched arguments for this ridiculous scheme. She’d be protected, they claimed, and her dowry safe from the king’s hands and thus out of Kenworth’s reach should her father not prevail.
The two had worked out the details while she slept, she realized, each backing the other—against her or for her, she hadn’t yet decided.
’Twas the part they hadn’t yet told her about that frightened her to her toes. They’d not yet named the man they intended to approach.
She couldn’t bear to look at Roland, who seemed anxious for her to agree. So she stared at Geoffrey, whose intentions were good, his reasons strong—and right now she wanted to hate him for it.
She’d always known someday she would marry to further her father’s ambitions or to seal an alliance. For the reason she’d not protested her betrothal to Hugh, doing her duty as a good daughter ought.
Foolishly, she’d hoped for more the next time. She’d even allowed herself to think she might have a say on the second betrothal. Useless dreams. Senseless wishes.
“You have been too quiet, Eloise,” Geoffrey said. “What are you thinking?”
“That you have both let your imaginations run amok. What man with a stable mind would take me? Granted, my dowry is sizable, but sweet mercy, Father is charged with treason! What fool man would wish to link his good name to ours with that threat of taint. Geoffrey, you cannot foist me off onto an unsuspecting soul!”
“Eloise—”
Geoffrey held up a hand to stay whatever Roland was about to say. “Did you think I would pull some poor man off the street and hold him at dagger point to marry you?”
“Of course not, but you must admit the choices are limited, if there are any choices at all.”
His eyes narrowed. “I have never known you to debase your worth. Your dowry aside, you have much to offer a man in your own right. God’s wounds, Eloise. What makes you think I need to search under rocks to find you a husband?”
Eloise swallowed hard. He’d given her a grand compliment, even if in an offhanded manner. Geoffrey loved her, she didn’t doubt it. He’d once crossed the Channel in an effort to assure her happiness, and suffered horribly for it. Her brother would never, ever, force her into something she found abhorrent.
She gave him a weak smile, all she could muster. “What is it you want of me, Geoffrey?”
“At the moment, a stronger smile. I know you can do better. I would rather you fight me on this than just give in.”
“Do make up your mind. You and Roland have spent the better part of an hour battering at my defenses.”
“Then I beg your pardon. I did not mean to weaken you, only to give you all the reasons why we propose a marriage. You may refuse if you are opposed.”
Eloise looked down at her hands, the palms reddened from rubbing them together so hard. “I assume you have already gained Father’s agreement.”
Geoffrey merely nodded.
“And the man you have in mind is neither cruel nor teetering on the edge of his grave.”
Geoffrey glanced at Roland. “Hardly a tyrant or too old to perform husbandly duties.”
“Enough,” Roland commanded, then pointed at the door. “Geoffrey, Timothy, out.”
Both men obeyed so quickly she barely had time to realize the door closed behind them when Roland held out his hands. She took them and rose from the edge of the bed. He pressed their clasped hands to his chest. His heart beat very hard, the look on his face pained with uncertainty.
“Eloise, as Geoffrey said, you are allowed to refuse.” Roland drew a deep breath, and Eloise felt her heart begin to keep rhythm with his. “Marriage is for life, your life. Neither of us intends to force an unwanted marriage on you. If you do not give your consent, we will find another way to shelter your dowry.”
“There is no other way. Roland, are you saying you believe I should refuse?”
He shook his head. “Just the opposite. I am hoping you will agree, and perhaps find contentment, even happiness.” His hands tightened around hers. “Eloise, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Stunned, she stared into his beloved hazel eyes as a thrill washed over her. Her fondest wish had come true, and she would shout a joyful agreement if not for the set of Roland’s mouth, if not for the flat delivery of the proposal.
Geoffrey had talked Roland into agreeing to this marriage, just as he’d presented his reasons to her, making everything sound so sensible.
She wasn’t the only one who should have the right to refuse.
“You need not do this.”
“I know, but I cannot say I find the prospect unpalatable. What of you? I know I am not the most worthy man in the kingdom. Do you think we can make a decent marriage?”
How terribly unromantic. But then, he didn’t propose out of love. She was very aware of what he gained by marrying her, land and wealth.
Once more the men in her life had decided what was best for her—and perhaps this time they’d gotten it right.
Roland obtained the income he needed to support his knighthood, and she got the man she loved. Not a bad bargain. And perhaps, with time, he might learn to love her, too.
’Twas certain she had no fear of the marriage bed. Eloise felt the heat rise to her cheeks, remembering their tryst on the mattress behind her.
