Lord of the Manor

by Anton, Shari

  With a sweep of his royal robe, King Henry left the hall.

  In complete shock, Lucinda voiced her thought aloud. “There must be another solution.”

  “Aye, there must,” Richard said, his fists clenched at his sides, disdain etched onto his face. “When you return to the abbey, you might pray that we find one before morn!”

  Chapter Five

  “I am sorry, Richard,” Stephen apologized again, as he had all during the long walk from the hall up to Wilmont’s chambers in the palace. As well he should apologize. If only Stephen had kept his peace, and not drawn the king’s attention to them…Now they were in a sorry mess.

  The long walk had shaved the sharpness from Richard’s anger, but it hadn’t yet cooled completely. He poured himself a goblet of wine and sank down in a chair.

  “Stop apologizing for getting us into this fix and think of how to get us out,” he told Stephen. “There must be some way to convince Henry of the folly he commits.”

  Richard glanced about the sitting room of Wilmont’s chambers, remembering the turmoil during the last time he’d occupied these palace rooms. So much had happened in the three years since. They had thought themselves done with Basil and his ilk. Now the widow and boy were throwing his life into upheaval once more—as if Basil were reaching back from the grave to do further mischief.

  Just as the king had forced Gerard into a strange betrothal with Ardith, now Henry wanted to toss Richard into an unholy relationship with Lucinda. The difference was Gerard had wanted Ardith; Richard did not want Lucinda.

  He no longer struggled with desire for the woman. It had vanished the moment Stephen had revealed her identity.

  “Mayhap we could find another noble to take the boy as his ward,” Stephen suggested. “Someone acceptable to both the king and Gerard.”

  “Pray tell, who?” Richard asked, thinking of the king’s strongest reason for giving Philip to one of Wilmont. “To which noble do we entrust the boy without fear of strife when the boy comes of age? Alliances change from day to day in this kingdom. Years hence, the protector might use the excuse of reclaiming Philip’s heritage to come after our lands!”

  Stephen sighed. “Mayhap we should send to Gerard for counsel.”

  Richard took a long swig of wine from his goblet. “There is not a horse in this kingdom with the speed and stamina necessary to travel from Westminster to Wilmont and back again before the morn. I fear, Stephen, we are on our own.”

  At the moment, he saw no other choice but to accept Philip’s wardship. Compelling Gerard to take the boy would be like putting a knife in his brother’s gullet and twisting it.

  Gerard would be furious if forced to submit to the king’s edict, to the point where his relationship with Henry might suffer permanent severance. Gerard wouldn’t be pleased if Richard submitted either, but it would be the more palatable arrangement, especially if Henry truly intended to include the mother in the bargain.

  Hellfire. What would he do with the pair? He’d once planned to take them home to Collinwood. Unfortunately, Collinwood had once belonged to Basil and the people vividly remembered their former lord’s heavy oppression. They wouldn’t look kindly on their new lord for bringing Basil’s widow and child among them.

  His tenants’ trust had been hard earned. Many were still wary, as if waiting for the day when he would become as harsh and cruel as Basil. Bringing Lucinda and Philip to Collinwood might jeopardize their budding loyalty.

  Mayhap he could take them to another of his holdings and just leave them there, visit occasionally to see how they fared. But then, could he fulfill his obligations to the boy from a distance?

  “Mayhap not all is as bad as it now seems,” Stephen said. “Depending upon how much in fees and rents the boy’s lands in Normandy bring you, this wardship could be a boon.”

  Richard almost laughed. “And how do you suggest I go about collecting the fees from Basil’s family without taking an army to Normandy?”

  Stephen shrugged a shoulder. “If Henry signs an order instructing this George to pay the rents to you, the man really has little choice. Henry is also the Duke of Normandy, George’s liege lord.”

  “His very absent, very faraway liege lord.”

  Stephen tossed his hands in the air. “Very well, Richard. I gave you the benefit of my counsel and you reject all of my ideas. ’Tis your turn to suggest an option.”

  Richard wished he could.

  “I suppose I should seek out Lucinda, see if she has any ideas. I am sure she is thinking hard on the matter, too. She likes this edict no more than you or I.”

  Lucinda tossed her good gown into the sack, drew the rope and tied the knot.

  “Are you ready, Philip?”

  “I do not want to leave,” he complained, again. “Brother Ambrose promised me a tour of the stables on the morn. Please, Mother, can we not stay until then?”

  She would like to indulge the boy, and if she could think of a way to sway the king from his edict, she would. She’d asked for a protector and Henry had granted one, but he’d ignored Philip’s best interests, or hers, in favor of his own.

  “Nay, we cannot stay. Now hurry.”

  “Do we go to my protector’s castle, with the horses?”

  “The noble whom the king would give you to is not suitable, so we must continue our search for a nice village in which to settle.”

  How Henry could justify making Gerard of Wilmont Philip’s protector astonished her. Gerard would surely hate the very idea of caring for the son of the man who’d kidnapped and abused his wife and son. As for Richard, the expression on his face upon hearing the king’s edict had left no doubt of his feelings.

  Abiding by Henry’s decision was the least palatable of her options, especially if Henry truly intended to give Philip’s protector authority over her, too. Running away might be the coward’s way out, but rather a free coward than Wilmont’s prisoner.

  Philip groaned and pulled a long face, but he picked up his pack. “You gave away Oscar’s mule. How will we carry everything? Where are we going?”

  She had no notion of where they would go. For now, beyond the city limits and into the countryside would suffice. By the time anyone realized they were gone, she and Philip would be well out of reach.

  “We will find somewhere to stay the night, mayhap another abbey,” she said, then pulled, pushed, and cajoled Philip through the abbey’s passageways.

  She broke into the sunshine of the yard, turned the corner of the building nearest the road—and came chest-to-chest with Richard of Wilmont.

  Lucinda stumbled and almost dropped her pack. Richard grabbed her upper arms to steady her.

  His hands were large and warm, his grip firm but not hurtful. Even as she cursed her ill luck, her body heated to Richard’s touch as it had on the road. ’Twas disconcerting, this thrill along her spine at the touch of a man, especially a man as large and powerful as Richard. She should be repulsed, as she’d been every time Basil had touched her. She should tremble with fear, not attraction!

  He glanced down at her pack, then over at Philip. He didn’t say anything, just raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “I thought it best if Philip and I left,” she said, hoping he would understand. She expected him to let her go and allow them to leave. He didn’t.

  “Where would you go?” he asked.

  “Away. Far away.”

  “’Twould do no good to leave. Henry would order me to find you and bring you back.”

  “You could say you could not find us,” she offered.

  “Henry would know better.”

  She couldn’t think while this close to Richard. She took a step back; he released his grip.

  “Certes, you do not want us,” she said, her thoughts becoming clearer. “I should think you would be relieved that we go our separate ways.”

  He crossed his arms. “You are correct, Lucinda. I do not like Henry’s edict, but neither can I let you leave.”

  Lucinda felt
a tug on her skirt. “Mother?”

  She was certainly making a mess of her escape. Of course, if Richard hadn’t happened along to waylay her, she and Philip would be well away by now. Or had he just happened along? Had he been coming to see her?

  Richard bent down and grabbed Philip’s pack. “Come,” he said, placing a hand at her elbow. He gave a slight push in the direction of the palace. She stood firmly in place.

  “Where do we go?”

  “To Wilmont chambers. ’Tis private there so we can talk. There must be some way to solve this dilemma without putting any of us at risk.”

  “Such as?”

  “I do not know yet, but putting you and the boy in jeopardy is not an answer.”

  Richard watched Lucinda’s ire melt into resignation. If forced to, he’d have dragged her kicking and screaming to the palace. He couldn’t let her flee, no matter how much she wanted to leave and he wanted to let her go. Henry would be furious, and Wilmont’s standing at court couldn’t sustain another blow without suffering severe damage.

  When next Richard pushed at her elbow, Lucinda turned and started toward the palace. Philip silently followed in their wake.

  Richard really couldn’t blame Lucinda for attempting an escape. In her position, about to be placed under control of one whom she considered an enemy, he might have tried the same thing. Then why was he angry that she tried to leave? It made no sense, but then all his reactions to Lucinda made no sense.

  He’d thought all desire for her dead—until the moment he touched her again, until he’d stared into the depths of her violet eyes and found determination mixed with fear.

  Richard ushered them into Wilmont’s chambers and tossed Philip’s pack in the corner near the brazier. Stephen had left for who knew where. Lucinda and Philip stood in the doorway, but neither seemed sure of what to do next.

  “Sit,” he ordered, indicating a chair with a wave of his hand. Lucinda obeyed, if slowly, then put down her pack and lifted Philip onto her lap.

  Her apprehension was palpable and probably natural, given the situation. Still, it fueled his anger. What the devil did she think he would do to her? Or to the boy? He wasn’t some ogre who would physically harm either of them. Surely, during the days they’d already spent together she’d learned something of his nature.

  He might yell, occasionally, and had been known to throw a cup or two across the room, at times. But he wouldn’t hit Lucinda.

  Nay, he wouldn’t hit her, because every time his hand came in contact with any part of her body he wished to stroke, not strike. Wished to caress, not bruise. What the woman did to his innards was unsettling. And must come to a halt, for both of their sakes.

  “Do you want to explain to Philip what is going on, or should I?” he asked.

  With a flash of annoyance, she undertook the task. Philip sat silent, his gaze flickering from Richard to his mother to his hands as the story unfolded. She did so with halting, carefully chosen words, in simple terms that Philip could understand.

  Richard noted that she didn’t relate Stephen’s angry words or the king’s displeasure with Gerard, or her fear for Philip’s life should he be returned to Basil’s family in Normandy. She spared him most of the details that would cause fear, or even discomfort. Richard wondered if it was wise to protect the boy. Philip would need to know the whole of it, eventually. Mayhap, however, she was wise to let him absorb the situation a little at a time.

  “Neither Richard nor I am pleased with the king’s decision,” she told her son. “I dare say Gerard would not be pleased either. That is why we were about to leave, to spare us all unpleasantness.”

  “They do not want us, do they, because my father fought with them.”

  Lucinda smiled wanly as she stroked her son’s hair. “’Twas more than a simple fight, Philip. Your father tried to destroy Wilmont. He sought to have Gerard murdered, and Richard nearly died of wounds inflicted by your father’s men.”

  “That is unlawful,” Philip stated. “Did not the king punish him?”

  “The king thought to, but your father escaped. Then he tried to get others to join a rebellion against Henry. That’s when Basil sent me a message to remove you from the castle at Northbryre, because he knew you might be in danger.”

  Richard noted that she didn’t include herself within Basil’s concern, which shouldn’t be surprising. Men of noble rank rarely cared for their wives, would be more concerned for the safety of a son, an heir.

  Richard knew it foolish to add “lack of feeling for his wife” to the list of Basil’s many sins, but he did. Basil was dead and, undoubtedly, burning in hell. For his multitude of sins, Basil now suffered mightily at the hands of a far harsher master than could be found on earth. Richard found the thought comforting.

  “So we went to live with Oscar and Hetty, so we would be safe,” Philip said.

  Lucinda nodded.

  Philip glanced again at Richard, then turned back to his mother. “Could we go home? Back to Northbryre?”

  “Nay, Philip. Northbryre no longer exists. Remember when I told you that your father died in a fire? That fire was at Northbryre.”

  Richard wondered how much of the true story she knew. Aye, technically, Basil had died in the flames. Both Ardith and Gerard had contributed deeply to his death—Ardith had stabbed Basil when he’d tried to rape her, and Gerard hadn’t made any attempt to rescue the wounded man from the flames. Few people knew the whole story, but there had been speculation.

  Lucinda looked up at Richard. “I also heard that the land on which Northbryre stood now belongs to Wilmont. True?”

  “The king confiscated all of Basil’s lands in England, then divided them between himself and Gerard. Of Gerard’s portion, he kept Northbryre and gave the rest to Stephen and me.”

  Her raised eyebrow revealed her surprise. Indeed, his brother’s generosity surprised many.

  Then she frowned. “If we were to go with you, would we be living on Basil’s former lands?”

  “Aye, at Collinwood.”

  She paled. The woman obviously knew of her husband’s defilement of Collinwood, his cruelty toward the tenants. Richard almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She’d done nothing to thwart Basil’s ruthlessness.

  Richard would forever remember the day he first set eyes on Collinwood. He’d known that the manor was in a sorry state, but he hadn’t been prepared for the haunted eyes of the people. Half-starved children. Men with no pride. Women without hope.

  “The royal betrothal ceremony takes place in two days,” he said. “Be prepared to travel on the third.”

  “You will accept Philip as your ward,” she stated.

  “You would rather go to Gerard?”

  “Nay, but—”

  “Henry gives us few options, Lucinda. The choice is between me and Gerard—unless we can contrive a miracle.”

  Lucinda was about to say something when Philip yawned hugely. The boy laid his head on her shoulder, his eyes drooping with fatigue.

  Richard ducked under the arch that led to the two bedchambers beyond the sitting room. He went into the master chamber and fetched a wolf pelt from the scarlet-draped bed. ’Twas really Gerard’s bed, but available for his use when at the palace.

  The bed, piled high with furs of wolf and bear, was the most comfortable he’d ever slept on. He’d even shared it a few times with a wench from the palace kitchens who’d taken a fancy to him—or to the down mattress. Not that it mattered which she truly preferred. She assuaged his needs and he asked nothing more.

  ’Twas far too easy to envision Lucinda snuggled down on the mattress, surrounded by fur. Her violet eyes shining with desire, her lips parted and wet and—

  Hellfire. His lust was damn inconvenient, not to mention unwarranted and unwanted. He must somehow reassure both mother and son they would come to no harm while in his care. Yet here he stood, picturing Lucinda on her back with her legs spread and arms open. Beckoning him to her.

  She would be horrified to k
now how his thoughts ran. Or would she? Of course she would!

  Just as he was horrified. The woman was the widow of the man who’d ordered Gerard’s murder, who’d run the people of Collinwood so far into despair and hunger that even after three years of his lordship they were wary.

  And he was of Wilmont, the family who’d brought Basil to his downfall, and death. Who’d made it necessary for Lucinda to flee Northbryre with little more than the garments on her back and a babe in her arms.

  Hatred would always exist between Wilmont and Northbryre—unless the boy could be swayed.

  No miracle would happen to release him from this duty, though he intended to ask Henry to amend the edict. He would accept the boy as his ward, but not the mother. Surely, Henry would see the sense of his request.

  Richard spun around and went back into the sitting room. He tossed the wolf pelt in a corner for Philip to use as a pallet to nap.

  The child was but six, an amendable age. And truly, a cute little tyke. Perhaps, with education, persistence and discipline, the boy could be saved despite his lineage.

  “Come forward, Philip.”

  Lucinda tightened her hold on her son.

  As he’d feared—the mother sought to interfere. Philip’s obedience to his lord was crucial to a proper wardship.

  “Come forward, Philip,” he repeated, more firmly.

  Philip slipped from Lucinda’s lap and came to stand before him. The child’s eyes reflected no fear. Richard put his hand on Philip’s shoulder.

  “You understand I am now your protector, and you my ward?”

  Philip nodded.

  “As your lord, I will expect obedience and fealty. Do you know what those words mean?”

  “I must do what you tell me to do, and…” He shrugged his small shoulders.

  “You will promise to serve and be loyal to me, to not betray me, no matter the temptation.”

  Philip turned slightly, as if to look back at his mother for permission to make such a promise.