by Alyssa James
“Sir Rowan, Your Majesty,” the page announced a short time later as they entered the throne room.
Rowan bowed low, surprised to discover that only the king and a page were present. “You wished to see me, Your Majesty?”
“Indeed.” Seated on his throne, the King regarded Rowan thoughtfully. Above his long thin blade of a nose, his shrewd eyes fixed Rowan with a penetrating stare.
Rowan did not look away, but made sure his gaze did not flicker to the unsightly scar on the King’s right cheek—a wound inflicted from an arrow at the battle of Shrewsbury some thirteen years earlier. Other men would have died from the wound. The son of Henry IV received special attention from the surgeon and had recovered miraculously.
“You have served us well, Sir Rowan,” the King stated without preamble. “Your courage on the battlefield at Agincourt and your leadership of the longbow archers was instrumental in our victory over the French. As such, we have chosen to reward you with rich farm lands and a small castle in Hampshire. From this day forth your title shall be Lord Rowan, Earl of Romsey.”
Rowan struggled to keep his expression neutral as bitter disappointment flooded through him. He did not want the king to witness and be offended by his reaction. Whilst his king had gifted him a rich reward, they both knew ’twas not the one Rowan would have chosen.
“You are most generous, Your Majesty.” He forced the words out, hoping to hide his disappointment.
“But ’twas not the prize my champion wished for,” Henry replied with a dry, knowing smile.
“I am thankful for your gift.” There was no doubt in Rowan’s mind that the holding would be valuable. King Henry had a fine reputation for his fairness and generosity. Since his father’s death, Henry had been slowly restoring properties and titles to heirs who had suffered under his father’s reign. Yet, a castle, lands in Hampshire and a title...Earl of Romsey?...was not what Rowan sought.
“Lord Rowan, your loyalty and your friendship have been greatly appreciated. Your military skills have stood out in the field since you earned your spurs and joined us at the Battle of Bramham Moor to quell the uprising by the wretched Earl of Northumberland.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. It has been an honour to serve you.”
“It is rare to find one so talented on the battlefield who also has your degree of diplomacy. We will always be grateful for your counsel to us during the time the former King Henry was ill and we were in power. You are an asset to our court.” The king paused. “Although ’tis no reflection on your service, we do not feel the time is right to gift to you leave to pursue what you most desire.”
Rowan bit down on a curse. When would the time be right? How many battles would he have to win for King Henry before he attained the prize that meant everything to him?
Justice. That was what he sought.
“We advise you, instead, to bide your time and be patient,” the king said as he twisted the ring he wore on his left hand. “Romsey castle is not far from your childhood keep at Baddesley. We are confident you will soon be well-placed to attain your ultimate goals.”
The King stood and stepped down from the raised platform. Henry was a tall man at six feet three inches, but Rowan stood taller and far broader.
“Your Majesty,” a page announced. “Duke Bedford has arrived.”
“Show him in at once.” Henry ordered. Turning back to Rowan he said, “As you are aware, ’twas my brother, the Duke of Bedford, who returned to England and raised a fleet to relieve us here at Harfleur.”
“Aye, Your Majesty.” Rowan only half-listened to Henry as he thought of the reward he craved above all else. Frustration continued to bite deep at the king’s insistence that he remain patient.
“I summoned Bedford when I heard you’d arrived. He has brought news from English shores which you must hear,” Henry told him, pacing back and forward. Silence ensued for a moment or two before he stopped immediately in front of Rowan. “The news concerns your cousin, Lady Aveline.”
Aveline.
The mention of his cousin gained Rowan’s immediate attention. She was his favourite. The one person who’d been able to reach him when he’d arrived at his uncle’s home. The one who, with all her sweetness, had done so much to heal the bitter ache in his heart. Where others had tiptoed around him in fear of incurring his foul temper, brave little Aveline—wise Aveline—had understood that his aggression and outbursts came from deep hurt—that his temper was uncharacteristic. With patience and calm, she’d defied all his attempts to push her away, stood in the face of his tempers and believed in the man he truly was. She’d slipped under all the defences he’d erected as surely as she’d slipped her youthful, innocent hand into his and given him her trust.
“Aveline is dear to me, Sire. I welcome news of her well-being.”
“’Tis disturbing news, I fear,” the king stated.
Unease pricked across Rowan’s skin.
At that moment Henry’s brother, John of Lancaster, Duke of Bedford, was announced. He entered the hall, bowed to his king and nodded in acknowledgement of Rowan.
“Your Grace,” Rowan greeted.
“’Tis timely that you join us, brother,” Henry declared. “As you have had direct communication with Duke Devereux, ’tis for you to inform Lord Rowan, the Earl of Romsey, of the news of his cousin, Lady Aveline.”
“Aye.” The Duke nodded slowly, linking his hands behind his back. There was sympathy in his face as he regarded Rowan. “’Tis with great sorrow that I must impart the news that your cousin, Lady Aveline, is dead.”
As practised as Rowan was at hiding his thoughts, he could not prevent his gasped denial as he reeled backward. “Nay! It cannot be!”
Not Aveline! Not the one who had brought him back from the edge of all-consuming darkness and hatred with her light. Pain tore through him as though a giant hand ripped open his chest cavity and squeezed his heart in a tight fist. The room began to spin in his vision as he fought for breath.
The king gripped Rowan’s upper arm. “Steady.”
Rowan shook his head. His pain and shock must be etched into each of his features for his monarch to breach the class division between them and offer his physical support. Rowan fought valiantly to control his emotions in front of his liege and the duke. “Forgive me,” he choked out. “’Tis shocking news.”
“You were close,” the king stated in comprehension and empathy. “We understand your grief, but you need to hear the rest.” He nodded for his brother to continue.
“Upon my return to England I received a missive from your uncle, Duke Devereux,” the Duke of Bedford explained. “It appears that Lord Collins of Hampshire petitioned your uncle for Lady Aveline’s hand in marriage just after we set sail for France. Duke Devereux did not give his approval as he disliked the man and has always believed Collins was part of the Southampton plot to replace King Henry with Edmund Mortimer.”
“Although Collins professed to have only ever been involved with Mortimer because of their mutual love of gambling, Devereux was convinced of his guilt,” Henry interjected. “’Tis true that Collins’ guilt has never been proven however we trust the opinion of Devereux. We have kept close watch on Collins’ involvements since that time.”
“How did Aveline die?” Rowan asked haltingly as Aveline’s face swam in his mind. He frowned. “You speak of this Lord Collins. Did he have a hand in her death?”
Disapproval was heavy in every one of Bedford’s features and in the grim set of his mouth as he answered. “Duke Devereux informed me Collins lied to Lady Aveline. Collins convinced her that her father was being implicated in a conspiracy plot against the king.”
“My uncle is completely loyal to you, Your Majesty,” Rowan defended instantly.
The king inclined his head in agreement. “We know this.”
“Lady Aveline believed Collins had the power to prove her father’s innocence,” Bedford continued. “Collins told her that if she eloped with him, he would ensure her fathe
r was not branded a conspirator.”
Rowan’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as rage welled within him. “She believed Collins. She eloped with him.” His words were statements rather than questions. Aveline’s soft nature and her devotion to all members of her family were well known. She would not have thought twice about going against her father’s wishes if she believed she was acting in his best interests.
“Devereux received a secret missive from Lady Aveline just a day prior to her death,” Bedford relayed as Henry returned to sit on his throne. “She explained her reasons for marrying without his approval. She also said Collins had confessed he had lied to her. She was concerned for her safety and requested that your uncle come to her rescue.”
“Devereux sent a petition to us for an annulment of the marriage,” Henry explained. “He was about to take his forces and march on Collins’ keep to retrieve his daughter.”
The duke nodded. “He had just cause. But before he set out, word was received that Lady Aveline had died.”
“Tell me how she died, Your Grace,” Rowan urged.
Bedford’s lips twisted into a cynical line. “’Tis claimed she had an accident and died from internal injuries after falling from her horse. She—”
“Aveline was an exceptional horsewoman,” Rowan protested, forgetting his place and cutting across the Duke’s explanation. “She was not one to take risks.” He covered his face with his hands for a moment as he tried to keep his loss and bewilderment in check. “How could this happen?”
“We suspect foul play, Lord Romsey,” King Henry told him.
Rowan did a double-take at the king’s use of his new title, but did not think for long on it. Most overwhelming was his grief over Aveline’s death and a burning need to know what had transpired. If Collins was responsible he would personally see to it that the man paid with his life.
“Collins has had five young wives,” Duke Bedford said grimly. “Each has met an untimely death approximately a year after marriage, and without begetting Collins an heir. Since Devereux brought Lady Aveline’s death to the king’s attention, my initial enquiries have led me to believe Collins may have had a hand in each of their deaths.”
Rowan’s adrenaline surged. “Surely you will punish him, Your Majesty?”
Henry nodded. “You may rest assured that if there is enough evidence to prove his guilt, we will ensure Collins pays for his crimes.” The king tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne as he assessed Rowan with sharply. “’Tis our desire that you return to England, Lord Romsey. Lord Collins has a keep and some lands which lie on the eastern border of your lands of Romsey Castle. Before you take possession of your new seat, we wish you to travel to the area in disguise and see what you can learn about Collins. Any hint that his wives died by his hands and you shall bring him before us.”
“If there is enough evidence to prove his guilt, he may not get a chance to appear before you, Your Majesty. I should like your approval to avenge my sweet cousin’s death.”
Henry shook his head. “Your request is understood but denied. He will face a fair trial before my court. If proven guilty we assure you he will pay with his life for his crime.” Henry gestured to the page. The lad took two rolls of parchment from a writing tableau and handed them to the king. “Should you find enough evidence to convict Lord Collins, our authorisation for his arrest is contained within,” he instructed as he extended one of the rolls to Rowan.
Rowan stepped forward for the scroll.
“God speed, Lord Romsey.” The duke bowed his head. “If that is all, Your Majesty, I take my leave of you both to attend to other matters.”
Henry gave a barely discernible movement of his head.
As Bedford departed, Rowan told his king, “I vow to bring Aveline’s murderer to justice.” His sweet cousin had helped him through his own personal nightmare. And while he was still not completely over the pain of those days, Aveline had, at least, helped him to go forward—to channel his disillusionment and anger into his training for knighthood.
“Now we come to the matter of your wife,” the king stated authoritatively once the doors had closed behind his brother.
Rowan frowned. “I do not have a wife, Your Majesty.” Surely Henry knew that?
“A situation that is about to change.”
Rowan felt his eyes widen at his monarch’s declaration.
“You are now a recognised member of the nobility. You have been granted title and lands. We expect that you will settle with a wife and produce your heir to secure your line and your seat.”
It took all Rowan’s willpower to hold his tongue in check. He had no plans to marry. Ever. Henry was not married. Surely the king should be concerning himself with begetting his own heirs, not with ensuring his nobility produce progeny?
Henry laughed. “Lord Rowan, it is amusing that so many of your men find you difficult to read when we find your thoughts completely transparent. My own marriage will be of high political importance, and the time is not yet right for that to take place.”
The king could only mean a marriage that would align him with France. The whole purpose of his army marching in France was because he wanted to be recognised as regent and heir-apparent to the French throne.
“Lord Collins re-marries virtually as soon as he is widowed,” Henry continued. “We have been told he has chosen a new bride. A maiden whose beauty is renowned and whose father, Lord Blake, was of great service at the Battles of Shrewsbury and Bramham.”
Demons of guilt ran sharp nails down Rowan’s back at the mention of Lord Blake’s name. Pushing memories aside that he would rather keep buried, Rowan met the intelligent eyes of his liege. “Sire, you recall I was under Lord Blake’s command at Bramham? He is a good man and a most courageous knight on the battle field.”
“The man you refer to is dead. His title has passed to one of his distant cousins, for whom we do not have the same degree of respect.” Henry waved his hands in dismissal of that subject. “Lord Romsey, ’twould be ideal if you proved Collins’ guilt and arrested him prior to his marriage, however if the marriage has taken place it shall be annulled. Either way, if Collins can be proven guilty you shall take the former Lord Blake’s daughter, Lady Lisette, as your bride.”
Rowan’s broad frame jerked. “Your Majesty, I—”
Henry said nothing. He merely pinned Rowan with his most regal, steely gaze and raised his left eyebrow slightly.
“I am at your command,” Rowan amended wisely. One did not argue with King Henry even if one was the king’s favourite knight.
The king extended the second roll of parchment to Rowan. “Here is our authority for the marriage of Lord Collins and Lady Lisette to be annulled if it has already taken place, and for you to claim both Lord Collins’ new bride and his lands should evidence implicate him in the murder of your cousin Aveline or any of his former wives.”
Rowan took the second document and placed both securely inside a pocket in his surcoat. Even though each was feather-light, the feel of the documents caused a heavy weight to settle around his heart. He had completed many missions for his king but none had been so personal.
Lord! He could not believe Aveline was dead let alone that a bride had been chosen for him.
“Sire, if I arrive before Lady Lisette is married, or if I cannot find proof of Collins’ guilt, I take it that the matter of my marriage may be dropped.”
“Nay.” The king’s denial was short and sharp. “We expect you to succeed on both counts, Romsey. We are confident you will find the proof you need to avenge your cousin’s death. We expect you to marry Lady Lisette and establish your line.”
“Sire—”
“Your direct passage to Southampton has been arranged. You have permission to take a small party of knights of your choosing into your service, with the exception of Sir Leon who will remain behind in our service. You will leave at next high tide,” the king instructed. “You will need to separate from your group when you a
pproach the villages around Collins’ lands and travel in disguise to conduct your investigations. Collins strikes me as a slippery character and I do not wish him to be forewarned as to your investigation. You will have your forces close by should you require their assistance to take Collins into custody.”
Sir Rowan, now Lord Rowan, Earl of Romsey, stifled all his protests. He bowed to the king in acknowledgement of the order and took his leave. In all the times he had taken his place in Henry’s army to march off to battle, Rowan had never known trepidation at the orders he’d received.
The king’s demands could not be ignored. While Rowan was thankful to have the opportunity to discover the circumstances of poor Aveline’s death and to bring Lord Collins to justice if he was guilty of the crime, the thought of marriage was an anathema to him. He had sworn that he would never marry and would prefer to take on the entire French army single-handedly than to take a wife. The scars carved into his heart years ago by Lady Eleanor were a reminder of his conviction that he would never again allow himself to trust a woman let alone to believe in love.
However if the daughter of Lord Blake was in trouble, Rowan had an obligation to assist her. He had carried a debt to his former commander for many years. If he was able to repay this debt by assisting Lady Lisette and prevent her from marrying a murderer, Rowan’s conscience may rest a little easier.
Would his former commander have approved of the match?
Rowan’s lips pressed into what must surely be a grim line. Lord Blake had shown great faith in him and saved him from a possible meeting with the hangman. Mayhap he would have approved, but surely his daughter deserved a more worthy husband?
Chapter 3
Genevieve shifted slightly in her sleep as Lisette prepared to leave the room they shared. In the soft candlelight, Lisette regarded the angelic face of the little sister she adored and her heart clenched with fierce, protective love. Genevieve was so beautiful. So innocent. Lisette would do anything she must to shield her from harm—even something she knew was very wrong.