His Bride Page 25

  “You’re behind all the problems we have had?” Gwyneth said in a faint voice.

  “Me and Hugh,” she whispered mournfully. “I hated every moment of it, but Gwyn, I had no choice! He threatened me parents! He told me he has someone nearby watchin’ me, ready to kill me. I didn’t know what to do! I…I persuaded Hugh to help me when I saw how angry he was at Sir Edmund. We did only little things, though, didn’t we? I tried not to hurt anyone. Say ye can forgive me, Gwyn.”

  “A fire is not a little thing,” she said, feeling the sad heaviness of betrayal.

  Lucy’s tears started again. “Hugh set it where he thought no one would be, away from anythin’ important, but we never thought about people comin’ to put it out. Someone could have”—her sobs shook her chest—“d-died. I couldn’t live with it any longer, even if the earl decides to kill me.”

  Gwyneth sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Edmund takes great pride in what he’s accomplished at Castle Wintering, and you’ve tried to ruin it.”

  Lucy’s face went sickly white, and she put her trembling hand to her mouth. “Do ye think he’ll have us killed?”

  Gwyneth frowned. “Have you learned nothing about him in all these months?”

  “But I seen him angry over this, Gwyn, and I’m afraid.”

  “I will speak to him with you.” She would calm Edmund’s temper and make everything right. She had to.

  “Could ye? We’d be so grateful, milady. I know things have not been…right between you and Sir Edmund, and ’tis my fault, too. Lord Langston told me to put those papers under your door just when ye seemed happiest. I don’t know why, but it worked to make ye sad.” More tears slid down her cheeks as she whispered, “I felt like I killed somethin’ inside ye when I saw your face.”

  “You almost did,” Gwyneth said gravely.

  Lucy pulled another handkerchief from her sleeve and noisily blew her nose. “I know I don’t deserve your help, but Hugh and me, we love each other and want to be married, but we don’t know how to escape the earl. I know he’s goin’ to kill us!”

  “How did you make him come all the way to Yorkshire?”

  “We told him a lie, that the village was ready to revolt against Sir Edmund’s rule, and that they needed to come take control. But ’tis not true, milady. If Hugh and me weren’t makin’ mischief, everyone would be happy with Sir Edmund. Do ye think he’ll ever forgive us? Will you?” Her voice broke.

  “I can’t answer that now. Let me get dressed, and we’ll both pay a visit to Mr. Ludlow.”

  Lucy brought Hugh to meet Gwyneth in the cold, bare lady’s garden, where the burly young man twisted his hat in shame. He couldn’t meet Gwyneth’s eyes as she berated them both for not coming to her earlier.

  Hugh cleared his throat. “Milady, can ye not keep our identities secret from Captain Blackwell? Surely he’ll rest easy knowing it’s all over now.”

  “I will not lie to my husband,” she said sternly. Not ever again. “And it’s not over, is it? I shall expect both of you to help me when the Langstons arrive. If only you’d told me this sooner. Did you think Sir Edmund could confront the earl without complete knowledge of what’s happened?”

  And she must have said that forcefully, because neither of them dared respond.

  Gwyneth went back into the kitchen to help with the preparations for the feast, but all she could hope was that with this information, Edmund would be able to plan his confrontation with the Langstons. At the first opportunity, she would speak to him privately.

  But the earl and his countess arrived at midmorning, before Gwyneth even saw her husband in passing.

  With his arms across his chest, Edmund stood in the courtyard as a soft snow fell and watched his enemies arrive. They came in an elaborately decorated coach followed by a train of carts and wagons that stretched out through the gates. Shivering footmen climbed down stiffly from their perch at the back of the coach to open the door and help the occupants out.

  The earl emerged first, dressed in a shimmering golden cloak, as if the queen would be in attendance at a Yorkshire Christmas. His wife came next, her face fixed in a dour frown and her arms clasped about herself, shivering. When they both saw him and barely masked their hatred, Edmund was even more determined to show them that their son’s villainy had not succeeded, that Castle Wintering was full of happy people—especially the lord and lady. He was determined to win this challenge, but it was a hollow feeling.

  He nodded instead of bowing. “A merry Christmas to you, Lord Langston.”

  “Hardly merry in such a harsh climate,” the earl grumbled, sweeping past Edmund with his wife on his arm.

  “Then ’tis a good thing I own this estate now.”

  The barb hit its mark when the earl stiffened but didn’t look back.

  Edmund followed them inside and watched Gwyneth lead her relatives away. Then he saw Alyce Hall standing inconspicuously to one side, as if she was avoiding her cousin.

  “Alyce?” he said. “Is there something you need?”

  “I have been waiting for you, Edmund.” She smiled fondly and took his arm. “My three younger daughters and I have a gift for you, but I didn’t want to wait until the New Year’s celebration to give it to you.”

  “That is very generous,” he answered, not seeing a package in her hands.

  She laughed. “You have to come with me to receive it.”

  Arm in arm, they walked through the castle to the weaving room, which was empty because of the holiday. Alyce approached a cloth that was hanging on one wall and tugged it down to reveal a small tapestry. It had been woven and then embroidered, and he inhaled quickly as he realized it pictured Castle Wintering, the River Swale at its side, sparkling beneath the sun. There were shepherds guarding flocks on the hillside and people in the orchards. And at the gate, small but central, were two people—Gwyneth and himself, he realized. They were holding hands.

  Amazed, Edmund reached out to touch the little figures.

  At his side, Alyce said softly, “I’ve left room to add your children someday. We made this so you could see what you’ve done here.”

  He stared down at her, not knowing what to say.

  “I give it to you now,” she continued, “because I can sense that things are difficult between you and my daughter. She has not confided in me, so I can say little to help, except that no marriage is perfect. There will always be the occasional arguments, the disappointments. But as long as you love each other and talk about your differences and forgive each other—that is all that matters.”

  “You are a good woman, Alyce,” Edmund said hoarsely.

  “I would be honored if you would let me call you my son.”

  She put her small arms about him, and he felt embraced by the mother’s love he’d never thought to have.

  An hour later, Gwyneth saw the earl and countess settled in the tower room her parents had graciously vacated. She left the Langstons to her parents’ company, then escaped down to the kitchen, to the servants bustling with their preparations. She had just thought of an idea for how to deal with the Langstons.

  “Mrs. Haskell,” she called, “please do me a favor. Send people to every part of the castle. I need to speak with all the servants immediately.”

  In half an hour, the kitchen was full to bursting with serving maids, scullery boys, grooms, footmen, shepherds, and farm workers. More waited in the courtyard for the message to be passed back to them. Gwyneth stood upon a chair, and their merry conversations died into silence.

  “I’ve called you all here because I have a favor to ask. I know things have been uneasy, since we have someone among us trying to make life difficult.” She noticed that Lucy dropped her gaze. “But you must trust me when I say we have almost put it all behind us. The earl is here because he wants this land back, and he’s done all he can to make sure my husband fails. Do you want him to be your lord again?”

  There were immediate cries of “Nay!” and looks of worry and fear.

 
“Then help me—help us. Go out to Swintongate and invite everyone you know here for Christmas dinner. We need your support, but we only have three hours to fill the great hall. I promise all your doubts will be answered this day.”

  She watched in relief as people rushed out of the room in twos and threes, talking excitedly.

  Edmund stood at the doors and watched with amazement as the whole village arrived at Castle Wintering for Christmas dinner. The hospitality of his household enveloped even the Langstons. Everywhere people toasted each other and the season. Beggars were brought in to eat with the residents of Wintering and Swintongate. Servants in red livery danced attendance. Tray upon tray of beef, lamb, and goose were laid across elegant tables covered in damask cloths. White breads and cheeses overflowed baskets. A peacock, roasted then sewn back up, complete with feathers and beak adorned the head table.

  He realized how much Castle Wintering had changed in the few months of his marriage. It truly was the tapestry come to life. What had once been a decrepit, cavernous abode for one lonely man had become a healthy home for many. Amazed and relieved, he suddenly knew that he’d succeeded in his quest to become a landowner, lord of this castle. He’d allowed his frustration with what was really a small series of crimes to overshadow everything that had been accomplished at Castle Wintering. He could honestly say he’d helped better the lives of many people.

  In the center of it all was his wife. Gwyneth moved among beggar and servant and guest with good-natured ease. Her authority was unquestioned, her kindness a certainty. Everything he enjoyed now was due to her. Even his dogs waited obediently in the corner for her attention.

  He watched with pride as she greeted the earl and his wife with a polite curtsy. He hadn’t had time to warn her of his plan to behave normally and see what the Langstons did. But without prompting, she played the joyous, loving wife so successfully that it made his chest tight with remorse. She slid her arm about his waist, and he rested his about her shoulders. He listened as she answered the countess’s questions about the changes in the castle. She graciously introduced her sisters to the Langstons as if the girls had never been slighted by their wealthy relations.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her, this fearless woman who’d braved a cold husband and a broken-down castle. He was staring in a besotted fashion into her lovely face when she stood on tiptoe and leaned toward him, her hand resting on his chest. His heart started pounding.

  Staring with imploring eyes, she whispered, “Trust me—just this once. I have a plan. Pretend that you love me.”

  He could only nod, but his love wouldn’t be pretend. He could no longer lie to himself. Gwyneth had pierced his armor and found the heart he thought he lacked. He loved her, her warmth and compassion, her bravery in taking a man like him in marriage. His worries faded, and he let himself trust her completely, knowing that this was his only chance for the happiness he’d thought he didn’t deserve. He’d been using his doubt and her small faults almost as a last barrier between himself and his wife, but no more. There would be mistakes aplenty between them in the coming years, but none they couldn’t talk through.

  Before they could all sit down for Christmas dinner, there was another commotion out in the courtyard. When the doors were again thrown back, in strode Alexander Thornton, the man whose family had saved Edmund from poverty. Through a wager, Alex had led Edmund to Elizabeth—and through her to Gwyneth. Alex’s wife, Emmeline, carried their year-old son, Nicholas.

  “Edmund!” Alex called, stepping forward to shake his hand. “We made it in time.”

  Edmund returned his grip and stared uncomprehending at Gwyneth.

  She shrugged and smiled ruefully. “He’s one of my presents to you.”

  He grinned at her, and she blushed.

  Alex turned to give her his usual scoundrel’s look. “So this is your wife, Edmund. How did someone like you become so lucky? And when are you going to introduce us?”

  Edmund laughed, even as he hugged Gwyneth to him. “This is my bride, Gwyneth, who has made our first Christmas together very memorable indeed.” He gave her a quick kiss, and her smile grew even more brilliant than he’d imagined. The light from hundreds of candles was reflected in the sheen of her eyes.

  “Lady Emmeline,” Gwyneth said, “could I hold the baby for you while you remove your cloak?”

  Smiling at each other, the two women talked quietly, and Edmund stared at Gwyneth as she looked wistfully at the child she bounced on her hip.

  “Edmund,” Alex said, “I’ve never seen you look quite so contented. And it must all be due to your bride here.”

  Gwyneth glanced at Edmund with hope in her eyes.

  “It is a good life we’ve made for ourselves,” he said.

  “Then I say we keep this good will going through another generation. I shall make you a wager that we can persuade two of our offspring to marry.”

  Edmund and both the women stared at Alex in amazement. Before he could say anything else, Gwyneth laughed.

  “Sir Alexander, my husband tells me I am not to wager with you.”

  “That is not a wise decision,” Alex said. “After all, the result of a wager of mine brought the four of us here.”

  They were all still smiling and shaking their heads when the clear tones of a handbell called everyone to crowd about the tables. Geoffrey, as steward, brought silence to the room for the chaplain from Swintongate to say grace. Then the noise rose and the food was served.

  Though Edmund enjoyed renewing his friendship with Alex and Emmeline, he found himself watching the bemused faces of the earl and countess. To Edmund’s astonishment, Harold barely acknowledged his parents and spent his meal below the salt, keeping Nell and the masons company.

  Gwyneth watched too, waiting for the Langstons to make their move. She’d deliberately placed Lucy nearby, where they could see her. As the last plum pudding was consumed, the Lord of Misrule himself, Hugh Ludlow, came marching into the hall, leading a parade of mummers and hobbyhorses. Dozens of people cleared tables in preparation for dancing. Gwyneth watched with satisfaction as the earl and his wife drew Lucy through the crowd and out the hall doors to the courtyard.

  Gwyneth gripped Edmund’s arm and pulled him away from Alex. “You have to come with me.”

  “What is it?” he asked, hugging her close as he looked about protectively.

  “Nay, I’m fine. You must come with me after the Langstons.”

  This time he didn’t protest as she led him out of the hall. A soft snow was falling, but it was still easy to see the Langstons and Lucy disappearing into the lady’s garden. Edmund gave her a quizzical look, but she covered his mouth until he nodded and pulled her hand away. Silently she led him into the cold shadows beside the garden wall.

  They could clearly hear the earl’s voice.

  “So where are these villagers in revolt?”

  “I know not, milord,” said Lucy in a subdued voice. “I did everythin’ ye wanted me to.”

  Gwyneth saw Edmund’s eyes widen, but she put up a hand and shook her head. Whispering into his ear, she said, “She confessed all this to me this morn. I shall explain later.”

  With a nod, he took her hand and held it.

  Shrilly the countess said, “They all seem happy!”

  “I did me best! Some of the villagers left, and I thought people were afraid of Sir Edmund again, but I guess not.” She burst into noisy tears. “Please don’t hurt me parents!”

  “What about the marriage contract?” the earl demanded. “Are you certain she saw it?”

  When Edmund gripped her hand harder, Gwyneth nodded.

  “They had angry words, I know they did,” Lucy said miserably. “But—”

  Releasing Gwyneth’s hand, Edmund stepped out of the shadows and into the lady’s garden, and no one said a word.

  Chapter 23

  When Gwyneth followed Edmund into the garden, she saw the countess’s white face, heard the woman’s swiftly inhaled breath. Earl Langston h
ad smoothed his expression into an emotionless mask. They stood on either side of a cowering Lucy, who hugged herself and cried.

  The earl opened his mouth, but Edmund took a threatening step forward.

  “Do not insult me with any more lies. I heard everything.”

  “I do not understand what you’re talking about,” the earl said stiffly.

  With a sob, Lucy came running to Gwyneth, who wrapped her arms around her.

  “Of course you do. It wasn’t enough that you tried to ruin me through your daughter and then through Gwyneth. You needed to complete the task by forcing an innocent girl to commit your crimes. But ’tis over now.”

  The earl said nothing, but his eyes glittered.

  Gwyneth looked over her shoulder to find that Geoffrey and Alex Thornton were standing just outside the garden and Mrs. Haskell was making her way across the courtyard. Other curious people were beginning to emerge from the castle. Hugh Ludlow, wearing an elaborate hat in the shape of a dragon, came into the garden and took Lucy into his embrace. As she cried against his chest, he spoke softly into her ear.

  “Your plan failed,” Edmund said. “And I surmise it had to do with lead ore rather than the sentimentality of owning your family land again. You underestimated the people here, especially Gwyneth. I cannot even be that angry, because your manipulations gave her to me.”

  He smiled down at her, and she leaned against his side, finally beginning to feel that everything might work out in the end.

  The earl found his voice. “If you think to threaten me with the law, remember that no court will believe you over me.”

  “Then I shall have to go right to the queen. Did you know that I saved the life of the Earl of Leicester, her favorite courtier, while I was stationed in the Low Countries? ’Tis why I was knighted. I am certain I shall have some sway with her.”

  The earl’s mouth worked, but nothing emerged. His wife slumped onto a bench.

  “And if Queen Elizabeth won’t listen to Edmund,” said Alex, stepping forward, “then she’ll listen to me. I’m not sure we have met, my lord. I am Sir Alexander Thornton, and I am the queen’s favorite dance partner, you know. And there is the matter of my brother and I saving all of England from the Spanish. Did you hear that story?”