Lords of Honor

by K. R. Richards

  “Thank you, August. I like it.”

  “Like what?” Marcus Trevelyan, August’s cousin asked.

  “Being married. I never thought I would take to marriage, but I was wrong. I truly like it. But then my wife is very beautiful,” Lyon grinned.

  “Good.” August laughed, “Better you than me, Amesbury!”

  A buxom and attractive barmaid entered the parlour. She flirted shamelessly with all three gentlemen, bending before each of them so her large breasts were enticingly displayed. She particularly seemed to like Lyon. But Lyon had no interest in such a woman. He thought only of his copper-haired, green-eyed wife.

  When the serving girl left, Lyon said, “I’m a happily married man. One of you wishes to have a go at her be my guest.” He threw his coin on the table, rose and went to his room. “See you at dawn.”

  His dreams were of Sophia.

  The next morning, Lyon began his journey back to Templecombe. More importantly, he would return to his wife, his lovely Sophia.

  They stopped at an inn in a small village along the road at mid-day to take refreshment.

  Lyon immediately noticed a man in a long brown coat exit from the side of the public room when he entered. “We’ve got company here. Just saw a Brown Coat slip out toward the stables.”

  Marcus Trevelyan went outside to alert their driver and footman to be on alert.

  The three traveling companions quickly ate a meat pie and downed a pint.

  Once back inside the carriage, all three produced their weapons, setting extras on the seats beside them.

  Ten minutes later, the driver alerted them that riders were approaching fast from the rear.

  “There are four of them!” The driver called down.

  When Lyon heard the pounding of hooves approaching on his side of the carriage, he dropped the window and leaned out, pistol in hand. He steadied himself, took aim and hit the lead rider. The man clutched his shoulder and slid from his horse. The runaway gelding crashed against another, sending its occupant tumbling as that horse reared in protest.

  “Two down.” Lyon slid his torso back into the carriage as the two remaining Brown Coats fired. He picked up another pistol, leaned back out and fired, hitting one of the two riders still in pursuit in the leg. The wounded rider slowed. August Trevelyan leaned out and took down the fourth before he could squeeze off a shot.

  “That was almost effortless,” Marcus Trevelyan commented.

  “It was almost like child’s play.” Lyon frowned. “We should expect more trouble, up ahead, gentlemen.”

  August nodded. “I agree. They were too easily dispatched. I know from our experience in Glastonbury and at Menadue they are not usually so easily stopped or so careless. These must have been green recruits who were considered expendable. To give us more confidence perhaps? Slow us down?”

  “I agree, August. Every action the Brown Coats take has a purpose. I’ve learned that as well.” Lyon nodded his agreement.

  Hours later as they neared the end of their journey, just ten miles out of Templecombe, Lyon and his companions found the trouble they expected.

  They saw the glow of fire up ahead.

  Two carriages blocked the road. Seven mounted men in long, hooded brown robes, each holding a flaming torch waited. The hooded figures wore black dominos over their faces.

  “Amesbury?” One of them called.

  “Who wants to know?” Lyon shouted.

  “The Grand Knights of the Brown Order!”

  “Never heard of such a thing.” Lyon taunted him while he positioned his arsenal on the seat beside him.

  “Most Heretics have not. You cannot know the truth when you live in Satan’s darkness,” the Knight shouted.

  “Satan? It appears you are the one surrounded by fire at the moment, your Grand Brownness.” Lyon’s mouth twisted into a determined frown. He leaned out the window and squeezed off a shot, taking down the Brown Hood to the left of the mouthy leader. The hooded man slumped and slid from his horse to the ground. Not one of his colleagues moved to see about him. A rumble of voices could be heard.

  The Grand Knight held up his hand to silence his comrades. “I could have you killed, all three of you, five if you count your driver and footman. You could die at this moment, Amesbury. There are twenty men behind these carriages.”

  Lyon watched as the Grand Knight made a gesture with his hand. Twenty armed and mounted men in Brown Coats came around the carriages blocking the road.

  “We can just add that twenty to the four we took out earlier today,” Lyon called out in a sarcastic tone.

  “Bring the child!” Frustration and anger could be detected in the Grand Knight’s voice.

  Lyon watched as a dark-headed, tiny girl child of about three or four was held up next to the Grand Knight. She cried and kicked her dangling legs. She called out for her mama.

  “Do you sacrifice children as well, O’ Hooded Evil One? We already know what you do to women!” Lyon struggled to think what significance the child could be to the Avalon Society.

  “If I do not have the scrolls found in Glastonbury, the cruets brought by Joseph of Arimathea, and the Glastonbury Sapphire in my possession by Tuesday week at noon, this child will never be found or seen again. In addition to this child, there are other women and children connected to the Avalon society who will disappear as well. You, Glaston, Wincanton, Wyldhurst, Fitzlewis and The Duke of Penrose shall deliver what I want to the Jasmine Star in Limehouse by noon Tuesday. I have heard you know the location well, Amesbury.”

  “The Jasmine Star is kind of a shoddy establishment, your Grand Arse. It’s not fit for the likes of us to step in.”

  “Nonetheless, you shall bring what I want; or this child of Lord Fitzlewis’s loins shall be the first to die. We have a far reaching network of spies and members, Amesbury. We are protected by men in high places, members of our Order. You cannot defeat us.”

  The spokesman of the Grand Knights waved his torch, “Eight women and two children, all special to some of your senior members shall disappear and never be heard from again. You think the women and children dear to your members are safe? Think again.” The Grand Knight laughed wickedly, “They are not. None of you are safe. The other ten I speak of are already being watched by our spies. Their “safe” places are already infiltrated by my people. The plans to remove them are in place and will happen. Your own whore of a wife may even be on my list, Amesbury!”

  Anger flared inside Lyon at the thought of Sophia being harmed; and that this piece of trash just called his beautiful wife a whore. “Just so you are aware, you Bloody Brown-Hooded Arse, I’m going to find out who you are and kill you by the eve of Tuesday next. Anyone who tries to touch my wife or any other woman or child of Avalon Society members dies immediately, you understand that you Brown Coated sons-of-bitches!”

  August Trevelyan laid his hand on Lyon’s arm as he reached for one of his pistols. “He’s trying to goad you, Lyon. They intend to let us go. We are the messengers. Harry and the others need to be warned of this.”

  Lyon let out a deep breath. He nodded and removed his hand from his pistol.

  “Until Tuesday when we meet in London.” The Grand Knight bellowed. Two men picked up the body of the man Lyon shot and draped it over the horse. The sobbing little girl was carried away. In a flurry of movement, the riders holding their torches, turned and disappeared behind the two carriages blocking the road with the mounted Brown Coats following them.

  Lyon and the Trevelyan’s listened to the thunder of horses’ hooves as their enemy retreated at a fast pace.

  “Let’s get those carriages out of the road and get the hell to Horethorne Hall! That’s the direction they’re riding toward.” Lyon descended from their conveyance.

  The carriages on the road were not empty.

  “I saw that elderly couple get into their carriage at the inn where we stopped at noon.” August shook his head. Both the man and woman were shot in the head. The driver’s body was c
onspicuously absent.

  The other carriage contained a gentleman.

  “Lord Gransby. I’ve met him several times when visiting Micah.” Lord Gransby took a bullet to the heart. “He’s a near neighbor to Wincanton.” Lyon shook his head. Lord Gransby’s driver and footman were both dead beside the carriage. “Leave the bodies in the carriages. We’ll send the constable in Templecombe back for them tomorrow morning. Let’s clear the road and be on our way.”

  It was late, well past midnight, when Lyon and the Trevelyans arrived at Horethorne Hall. Simmonds saw their bags were taken upstairs.

  “Is Harry up?” Lyon asked when he found Gabriel and Wyldhurst in the library.

  Wyldhurst shook his head.

  “Go wake him. Wake everyone except the women. We need to have a meeting, now! Except Micah, he’s probably not able to come down. I especially need Fitzlewis.”

  A quarter of an hour later the Avalon Society members who were not on watch were gathered in the library. Having heard voices in the hallway, Micah insisted Wyldhurst help him down the stairs.

  The gathered members listened while Lyon, August and Marcus told what transpired earlier on the road outside Templecombe.

  Owen sat stunned in his chair. “I do not have a child.”

  “Perhaps you have one you are not aware of?” Lyon posed. “He specifically named you, Owen. Specifically said the girl was of your loins. This child from the loins of Lord Fitzlewis. I guessed her age to be about three or four perhaps.”

  August and Marcus confirmed Lyon’s words.

  Owen shrugged. He shook his head in bewilderment. “I do not have a child.”

  Charlie spoke up. “How long ago did Grace marry Lord Marston, Owen?”

  “Grace? When we spent five months in Italy, Charlie. Three, no four years ago. I came back and found she married Marston.”

  Owen remembered something at that moment. When he returned from Italy, it was to find that his lady love, Grace, married Lord Marston. Owen confronted her only once after returning, at a ball in Bideford. He approached her to ask her why she married Marston when she accepted Owen’s proposal before he left. She sobbed. He recalled her words, “I did not want to. You left me no choice, Owen. I sent you message after message. You never answered. It was almost too late; I had to. Father arranged it.”

  Lady Marston’s sister-in-law rushed to join them and intervened in their private conversation. Owen hadn’t understood Grace’s explanation that day. Nor did he ever try. He excused himself from her company, left the ball, and never looked at or talked to Grace again. His heart was broken. He thought she loved him. Maybe she did? He never received the messages she spoke of. Maybe? It was possible. He very well could have left her with child. He planned to be gone three months, instead he returned to Devon well after five long months. Owen and Grace planned to announce their betrothal after he returned from Italy.

  Before he departed England for Italy, Owen took Grace on a picnic. They were completely alone in the wood near Roseland. He proposed to her. He made love to her on the blanket. The next day they returned again to the same spot. They made love for hours. That was two days before he left for Italy. He remembered hearing she married four weeks before he returned. Owen cursed under his breath. He felt the blood drain from his face.

  “Grace! It could be Grace!” Owen stood. Grace, now Lady Marston, now the widow of Lord Marston. He heard she had a child many weeks shy of nine months to the day of her wedding to Marston. There were rumors. The words whispered throughout the Hartland Peninsula killed Owen when he concluded that while he was in Italy dreaming of marrying Grace, she shared her body with another man. He burned with anger and jealousy upon hearing the whispers. The gossip only fanned the hatred he felt at being betrayed by Grace. He still loved her when he heard about her child. He still loved her when he heard about her husband’s death eight months ago. And he still loved her now. But he also hated her during the past four years, for playing him a fool; for betraying him. Maybe, just maybe, there was a reason for it? If she were with child, carried his child, yes, he reasoned this girl child could be his if it were Grace’s daughter.

  Owen’s upset was evident.

  Charlie briefly explained the circumstances regarding Owen’s return from Italy to find Grace married Lord Marston.

  “I didn’t know. I still don’t know for certain. How could someone else know if Grace never told me?”

  “Can you contact her tomorrow to see if her child is missing?” Harry asked.

  Owen nodded numbly.

  Harry paced as he spoke. “We need to be in London by Thursday evening. That will give us four days to study the layout of the Jasmine Star and formulate a plan of attack, and four days to try and locate this child and hopefully get her before Tuesday next. I would prefer we take the upper hand and gain control of the situation rather than leaving it in their hands.”

  He sighed heavily then added, “We need to alert the ladies and let them know they are in danger, but I don’t want them to know why we are going to London. They will worry incessantly. We have to let Trevan know. He is expected to attend the meeting at the Jasmine Star. I’ll write a letter tonight and send it first thing tomorrow morning. We need a place to stay in London that doesn’t directly belong to one of us. They will be watching our London homes already, I am certain. We need a place big enough for all of us and Trevan’s group too. I will write to my brother, George, to have him meet us in London with mine and Lyon’s families. Sir John and Rowena’s Aunt Frances are already in London. The rest of you need to send your families to another safe place.”

  “Infiltrated!” Lyon spoke aloud.

  Everyone turned their attention to him.

  “Infiltrated. The Grand Knight said all of the safe places were infiltrated. Servants. They’re getting to the servants. That’s how they got in here to get Libby. That’s how they knew where Libby and Sophia would be on the days they were taken. No doubt that is how they stole this child.”

  Harry rose. “We need foolscap and quills. Everyone write to your families at once. They need to move to a safe place without bringing a single solitary servant with them. And their household staff where they are currently must be given a false destination. We’ll post the letters tomorrow morning. As of this moment, Micah, your servants are under suspicion.”

  Micah nodded somberly. “We can stay with Chilcompton in London, Harry.”

  “Your Grandfather won’t mind?”

  “No. My Grandfather will welcome the company. Wychcombe House is huge, as you well know. It’s completely fenced making it easy to defend. He rarely has visitors. He’s in an older, less fashionable and quiet part of Town. We can sneak in and remain there without being noticed. There’s not a member of his staff that hasn’t been with him for over twenty years, with the exception of a few parlour maids.”

  Harry nodded. “Good. Send him a letter. We will go to Wychcombe House.”

  The clock in the hall chimed three when the men of the house made their way back to their posts or bedchambers.

  Lyon entered Micah’s room, having been told his wife slept there. It was dark. He wanted to make certain his wife was in the room. “Sophia?”

  He heard nothing. “Sophia?” he said a little louder.

  “Lyon?” Sophia sat up. She tossed her copper hair over her shoulder.

  It took him all of two minutes to divest himself of his clothing. He slid himself into the bed and his wife, Sophia, was in his arms. “Let’s get rid of this,” Lyon lifted her nightgown over her head. He let it float to the floor. His hands slowly moved over her body while his lips covered hers. He wanted to feel every inch of her. Kiss every inch of her.

  “I received your letter. Thank you.” Sophia’s hands moved over his body. They stopped roaming when she found what she most wanted.

  When Sophia’s hand moved up and down his hard length, he groaned. “I missed you, Sophia, so much. I want you now, darling.”

  “Yes, Lyon. I want you too.
”

  His fingers moved down to ready her. He grinned when he found her already wet. He came over her and filled her. Lyon sighed loudly with the intense pleasure he felt as her wet heat closed around him. He was home. Home was Sophia. He showed her just how much he missed her, and just how much she meant to him. Sophia did the same. As Lyon drove into Sophia time and again, as they crested, exploding in their euphoric bliss as one; Lyon realized he was deeply in love with his wife. They loved one another again then slept. When dawn came, they moved to their own chamber and made it as far as the tub. There they brought one another to the heights of ecstasy yet again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Ah! He lives,” Lyon grinned as he entered Micah’s and Libby’s chamber the next morning.

  “I do. However, I didn’t sleep well. It was noisier than usual in your wife’s room last night,” the corners of Micah’s mouth turned up as he pretended to complain.

  Lyon grinned broadly. “Noise? I didn’t take notice.”

  “I didn’t hear any noise last night.” Libby offered as she gave her husband a questioning look.

  “That’s because you slept very soundly last night, sweetheart.”

  “Libby, I’m happy to see you. I’m very glad you are back among us,” Lyon winked at her. “I heard all here grew tired of sitting on your husband’s chest to keep him down. I see he is behaving now.”

  Libby smiled at Micah, “You must be the worst patient ever. Everyone has commented on it.”

  Micah shrugged. “Oh, I do not recall being disagreeable.”

  Lyon laughed at Micah’s words. “It was more like stubborn, Micah. How are you feeling, Libby?” Lyon turned his attention to Micah’s wife.

  Micah saw the genuine concern in Lyon’s eyes when he noticed Libby’s scar.

  “I’m feeling much better, thank you. I think I will try to go downstairs briefly today.”

  “Let me know when you are ready to go down, Libby. I’d be happy to escort you.”