by Ruth Kaufman
Owen paused. “He’d likely run me through for telling you this.” He withdrew his line from the water and tossed it farther out. “The women in his life have ruined him.”
Eleanor caught her breath. Her hands tightened around her fishing pole. She couldn’t wait to hear more. Though it would do her no good to think about Richard, much less his past, she couldn’t seem to stop.
He turned to her. “I share this because I can see that you care for him. And I’ve never seen him look at another woman the way he looks at you. I think he needs you,” Owen said, more serious than she’d ever seen him. “Though I can’t imagine how you’ll get him to admit such a truth before he weds Lady Isabel.”
A seedling of hope unfurled inside her and stretched toward the sun. She had an ally. Eleanor waited, calling on the same patience one needed to fish. Their lines hung motionless in the water.
“Richard and I saw how our mother’s affairs hurt our father. And if that wasn’t enough, the only woman he ever had the courage to love betrayed him,” Owen explained.
Blanche. Jealousy seared Eleanor, hot as if flames roasted her skin, to hear again that Richard had loved another woman. That she knew her, had seen her with him and even asked her to be in the tournament made the pain worse.
“This was years ago, when he was but a knight. The same day Blanche agreed to wed with him, he overheard her agreeing to wed a noble. Richard vowed never to love again.”
“You can’t expect me to believe he’d keep to a vow made in the throes of anger and pain,” she said. “Richard is very smart. He must know happy couples. He must know all women don’t betray their men.”
“In his head he does, but not in his heart.” Owen cast his line again.
What could sway Richard from his vow? Trust. But earning trust took time and persistence. Why had she given up, for the first time in her life, before she got what she wanted?
Something tugged at Owen’s line. He lifted his hook from the water. The worm was gone.
“Close. Next time,” he said as he stuck more bait on his hook. “Good thing Richard didn’t fall in love with you. He’d have been trampled upon again, what with you wanting him to marry someone else. And declaring so before the entire court, including the king who gave him your hand.”
Eleanor froze. Had she hurt him, as he’d vowed never to be hurt again? If he cared for her, why had he let her go?
“I arranged the tournament so I could marry the man I thought I loved. And to find Richard a bride better than I,” she said. “You saw your brother cavorting with all of the beauties. For certes he looked like he was enjoying himself. He didn’t seem upset.”
“Richard would never reveal his true feelings in front of others. If you don’t know that about him by now, then you know nothing at all.” Owen glared at her. “Mayhap he is better off without you.”
Eleanor flung her pole aside and jumped to her feet. “Did you bring me out here to make me feel better or torture me?”
“Both, it seems. My pardon.”
Her pole rolled into the water. Owen pulled it free and wiped it dry. “Here.”
She accepted the pole and sat back down. They fished in strained silence.
Eleanor willed her irritation away. Owen believed Richard cared for her. That was enough.
“How can I get him back?” she asked.
“I can’t help you there, for I’ve never had to woo a woman. I’m fortunate they flock to me. I but choose amongst them.”
“You are the most conceited man I’ve ever met.”
“Not conceited, honest,” he replied. “What did you do to make Richard want to be with you the first time?”
“Things I have no opportunity to do any longer,” Eleanor said. “I disobeyed him and defied him.”
Owen laughed, then immediately looked contrite. “Sorry, fish.”
Eleanor felt a tug on her line. Her arms tensed against the resistance.
“You’ve got a bite,” Owen said. “May I help?”
“No, I can do it.”
Eleanor held firm and waited for the right moment. With a sharp tug, she pulled a sizeable trout from the water. The fish dangled from her hook, wet scales gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
“Aha!” she cried. “I’ve got him!”
Persistence and patience, that’s all it took to snare a fish.
If only Richard were this easy to catch.
“I’d go, but I have to get married.” Saying the words made Richard cringe on the chair in Owen’s room. “Someone needs to search one more time for clues to Father’s missing alchemy scrolls.”
Besides, he might see Eleanor again if he stayed. Lady Mary told him she heard from Lady Rose his former wife hadn’t gone to Middleworth as planned.
He thought of her too often. Was he obsessed with the woman he could no longer have? How could he, a man who had forsworn caring for women, let one rule his mind?
“But you know better than I what to look for.” Owen stuffed several shirts into his bag. “You searched Father’s studio right after the murders and found nothing. What makes you think I’ll uncover something now?”
“Because you’ll look with fresh eyes. ’Tis best to have one of us rather than Blanche or Hugh. Time is short. In the stables, Reginald overheard Hugh’s squire asking for their horses to be ready at dawn,” Richard explained. “’Tis no coincidence they’re leaving court now, after Blanche’s attempt to drug me failed and she lost the tournament. They’re obviously desperate, and their only hope is to return to the source, even if they’d have to lie or commit a crime to gain access. If you leave tonight, you’ll be there ahead of them. You’ll be able to look for the missing scrolls and post guards to keep Blanche and Hugh out.”
“You go,” Owen said. “How better to postpone your wedding than with an urgent journey?”
Owen was right. Richard didn’t want to marry Lady Isabel. If he couldn’t have Eleanor, he wanted to remain unwed as long as possible. “’Tis my duty.”
“That line grows old. And what of your duty to the king?” Owen rolled his eyes. “Eleanor was your duty until you convinced Edward otherwise. Admit it, if only to yourself. You still want her.”
“What if I do? She’s an attractive, intelligent and interesting woman.” He couldn’t help but remember her smile, the feel of her against him. Thinking about Eleanor again. Most annoying.
Owen moved to his tunics, which hung on pegs. He grabbed a couple and tossed them into the bag. “’Tis more than that. I’ve seen the way your gaze follows her, the way you set your jaw whenever she talks to another man.”
“She was my wife. ’Twas my obligation to protect her.”
“What of the duty you owe yourself?” Owen asked with obvious irritation. “Have you no wish to be happy? Must you always worry about others’ needs and neglect your own? Sounds a bit like a martyr to me.” He shoved some hose in.
“How easy for you, the second son, to prattle on about happiness and avoid responsibility,” he said. “I’ve an obligation to carry on the family name and can’t afford to cavort and frolic. Now I’m an earl, so that task is all the more important. Don’t you think there are moments when I’d give all to spend my days as you do? Living for pleasure?”
“I’m no stranger to obligation. I’ve earned my share of scars fighting for Edward,” Owen said.
“As have I and many others. That doesn’t earn you the right to while away the hours flirting and singing.”
“I’ve seen men, some who were friends, die miserable deaths on the field. Their fate might befall me one day, so I choose to live the life I have to the fullest. Women enjoy my attentions and I enjoy theirs, what of it?”
“’Tis time you acted your age. Your reputation bears on mine,” Richard said.
Owen seemed taken aback. “I’m surprised you acknowledge the gossips.”
“’Tis a challenge to avoid them, especially as you’ve been one of their main topics since your arrival. Not only do my new estates an
d service to the king demand my time, I must deal with the past, which Blanche and Hugh have awakened to haunt us. I can’t be in two places at once, and need your help.”
“Very well, brother. I’ll go,” Owen conceded. “Anything to escape your nagging.”
Several hours later, Richard was on his way back to his chamber after another feast. Isabel had been seated beside him, in the place he still thought of as Eleanor’s. She, reduced in status, sat several tables away. He thought he felt her gaze on him, but every time he looked her way her attention was on her food. Not that she’d eaten much of it.
Now he understood how uncomfortable their wedding and days after must’ve been for her. She’d had to endure marrying him and sitting beside him while Arthur, the man she thought she loved and believed for years she’d marry, looked on. As he had to accompany Isabel while Eleanor sat nearby.
He couldn’t fight it anymore. He loved her. Compassion for her situation, thinking about her, needing her more than he had thought possible…all things he had never wanted to experience.
“Richard,” Blanche said, startling him. He’d been so engrossed in thoughts of Eleanor he hadn’t heard her approach.
“I’m leaving court and came to say farewell.”
What opportune timing. He could learn of her plans.
“I can no longer remain here,” she said. “So I go to Pengormel with Hugh and his mother.”
“Why tell me?”
Had he been mistaken as to why Hugh wanted their horses? He and his mother could simply be returning home, not plotting to ferret out Father’s missing scrolls. Unless Blanche spouted more lies.
“I wanted to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding,” she said with a strange smile. “I’ve come to know Isabel. Her skill in falconry is unmatched, and she—”
He cut her off with a wave. “Blanche, what is this? ’Tis not like you to sing the praises of another. And why are you talking so loud?”
Had he glimpsed a flash of guilt in her eyes? Beneath her cloak she wore a sturdier gown than those she usually favored. She was already dressed for travel. His hackles rose. She was trying to trick him again. Or was he reading too much into everything these days?
“I, um, thought to reassure you I now wish you nothing but happiness.”
He heard footsteps. Coming from behind. He whirled to see a tall man wearing a black mask swing a cudgel toward his head.
Richard jumped back, straight into the wall. His heart sped. “Damn you, Blanche. If this is about alchemy, I don’t have what you seek.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Hugh knows there are missing scrolls.”
The masked man swung, the cudgel slamming into the wall as Richard ducked. Stinging chips of mortar rained down.
“Help! To me!” he yelled. No one came.
He couldn’t get close enough to land a punch without getting smacked by the cudgel. Throwing himself to the ground then rolling to the side, he tried to trip his attacker. With a deft leap, the man avoided his kick.
Never trust a woman.
Then all went black.
Chapter 19
“Did you have to strike him so hard?”
Heedless of the fact that they could be discovered any moment, Blanche dropped to her knees beside Richard, who lay motionless on the floor. She hadn’t wanted to go along with Hugh’s plan, but had been too afraid for her own safety not to or to inform the authorities. How could she mitigate Hugh’s evil? She could never bring herself to take Richard’s life, as he planned to once they found what they sought.
“Aye. He’s a strong warrior. I couldn’t risk him hitting me back,” Hugh grumbled.
“Oh, no, he’s bleeding.” She held out her fingers, red with Richard’s blood. “We must get help.”
“Have you lost your wits?” Hugh hissed.
“Have you lost yours? If he dies, what use is he to you?”
“We ride for Pengormel. One of my mother’s men will see to him there. Help me,” he ordered.
Hugh tossed Blanche a tattered brown cloak with a deep hood. He raised Richard to a sitting position so she could drape it around him.
“I tell you, this is foolish. Let’s leave him,” Blanche begged. “Whoever finds him will think he fell and hit his head. No one need know we planned to abduct an earl. We’ll think of another way to find the scrolls. Without breaking laws and risking our necks.” Being underhanded to keep a roof over her head was one thing. Being a criminal was quite another.
“There is no other way.” With a loud “oomph,” Hugh hoisted Richard over his shoulder. “He’s heavier than I thought,” he complained as they headed toward the nearest door. A castle guard stood tall on either side. “I thought you were going make sure the way was clear.”
“I thought you were,” Blanche hissed back. Her heart pounded. How had her life come to this? “Why should they care who leaves?”
“What, ho, my lord?” one of the guards asked.
“Nothing to worry about. Just offering aid to a drunken friend,” Hugh prevaricated. “An excess of ale, which he’ll rue on the morrow.”
“I know how that be,” laughed the guard. He let them pass.
One hurdle crossed. Who knew how many more lay ahead?
“This can’t be true!” Eleanor held up the short note she held.
She read it again and again. Why had Richard bothered to send any note after the way they’d parted?
“‘I greet you well and send God’s blessing. Before you hear it from the gossips, I thought to tell you that Blanche and I have gone away together,’” she read. ’Twas signed only “Richard.”
Richard and Blanche? Gone where? And why?
She’d thought her heart already broken, yet felt it crack afresh. He’d never wanted her. Only Blanche.
Unless….
Alyce rushed into the room. “Eleanor, I’m so glad I found you. I’ve strange news.”
“What could be stranger than this?” Eleanor handed her the scrap of parchment. “It looks like Richard’s hand. But he wouldn’t abandon his duty to Isabel so carelessly. Surely Edward will be displeased if he changes brides yet again.”
“What a coincidence. Isabel is my news too. I left her crying,” Alyce reported. “Richard clearly affects his women deeply. Isabel, Blanche…. You still care for him.”
Eleanor shot Alyce a glare.
“Isabel received a similar letter. She made the mistake of opening hers in public. When she collapsed in tears, it fell to the ground. The nearest person, quite rudely though everyone was dying to hear, picked it up and read it aloud,” Alyce said. “I quote, ‘Perchance you will forgive me any sorrow this may cause you, but Blanche and I have gone away together.’”
“I can’t believe Richard would run off with Blanche.”
“You don’t want to believe. There’s a difference,” Alyce warned.
“Alyce, now it’s your turn to think. This is most curious. The note is dated yesterday, yet it was just delivered. The hand looks sloppy, as if written in haste. The words don’t sound like his. Richard swore he had no feelings for Blanche. And one of the first things he told me was that he’s not a liar.” Eleanor paused. “Unless that was a lie, too. Let’s find Owen, maybe he also received a missive.”
Hours later, they hadn’t found Owen. No one they asked had seen him or knew where he’d gone. Eleanor’s feet ached from searching, and her head pounded. She and Alyce returned to her tiny room and collapsed on the bed, the only place to sit.
She kicked off her shoes. “I’ve been reviewing every conversation Richard and I had about Blanche. I think I’ve come up with something.”
Alyce sighed. “I hope you’re not trying to make something of nothing.”
“Be serious. Richard doesn’t love Blanche. He and Owen both said he can’t love anyone. So why would he leave with her when he’s supposed to wed Isabel? He wouldn’t, unless he had no choice. Unless he was taken against his will. Richard has been abducted.”
&nbs
p; “Oh, Eleanor. Richard is a powerful knight and an earl. Who’d dare make off with him? Who could succeed? He could probably fend off half a dozen men.” Alyce removed her headdress. “Your imagination is wonderful for lunatic schemes and telling tales to children, but is a hindrance now.”
“Blanche already drugged Richard, who knows what else she’d do? He warned me that she and FitzWalter might harm me to force him to give them alchemy formulas. What if he was caught unawares? That has to be it!” Energy restored, Eleanor jumped off the bed. “Help me change.”
“Drugged him, whatever for?”
“No time to explain. I must go to him.”
“You? If Richard is in trouble, it’s too dangerous. Do you even know where he is? Besides, a lone woman can’t rescue a knight and shouldn’t travel alone in any case.”
“I’ll have some of his men accompany me.” She pulled on one of her plainest gowns of darkest blue wool. The gown she’d worn the night Richard came upon her in her father’s workshop. She tried to breathe slowly as she braided her hair. “Hand me my boots. If anything has happened to him….”
Alyce clutched the boots to her chest. “Eleanor, Richard isn’t yours to cry over anymore. He’s not yours to save. You saw to that, yet now you dash off on a crazed journey to who knows where assuming you can rescue him from who knows what? Think, Eleanor, think!”
“Alyce. Give me those boots,” Eleanor demanded. “I have to help him, if I can’t find anyone else who will. I can’t rest knowing he’s in danger. You were right once again. I love him.”
Eleanor urged Saffron into the night toward Hugh’s and his mother’s castle. Her heart raced as fast as her mount’s hooves. Scenery flew by, blurred in moonlight muted by clouds. Cool night air whipped off her cloak’s hood and ruffled her braid.
Unfortunately, she’d wasted precious time seeking aid. And only Richard’s squire, Reginald, accompanied her.
Richard’s men had been too well trained to laugh at her, but they clearly thought she’d gone mad. They said they acted on Richard’s orders alone. But what if he wasn’t able to send orders? Who at court could do so in his stead, save the king? Even she wasn’t so foolhardy to approach the most powerful man in England when she lacked convincing proof.