Chapter 34
Ash
Ash needed to get up, but he could not quite find the energy to move. Litillwitte snored beside the chair, his legs in the air, his paws twitching.
He felt vaguely hollow. The panic had passed, leaving him empty.
There was a knock at the door.
‘Enter.’
Raff appeared, a jug in one hand and mugs in the other. ‘May I come in?’
Ash sat up. Raff shut the door behind him with his foot and sat beside him. He lifted the jug towards Ash: an offering. Ash shook his head.
‘How do you feel?’ Raff said, pouring himself a drink.
‘Tired.’
Raff gave a brief laugh. ‘But otherwise all right?’
‘Otherwise all right,’ Ash parroted.
‘What happened?’ Raff said.
Ash looked at his fingers, already regretting refusing a drink.
‘I panicked,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘I thought Agnes was with child.’ There they were again: the echoes of screams. ‘Were you too young to remember Lily’s birth?’
Raff’s lips were tight. ‘I remember.’
The memory surrounded them like a soap bubble. The shared loss. The shared horror.
‘I thought— I knew that it would happen to Agnes, too. It was as if she were doomed, and there was nothing I could do to save her.’ He took a breath. ‘I do not want her to die. I do not want to be the reason why she dies.’
Raff reached over, wrapping a warm hand around Ash’s wrist. ‘She will not,’ he said.
‘How can you know that?’ Ash snatched his arm away. ‘None of us know. It is too dangerous, I should have never—’
‘Ash.’
‘Do not pretend it is not true. If she dies, it will be my doing. I should—’
His words lodged in his throat. I should remove myself, to save her. Those thoughts again returned to tempt him.
‘Ash?’
He was shaking, his fingers numb. ‘I thought it was better,’ he said, lips tingling. ‘I thought I was better. Why am I still— Why do I still want it?’
Raff stared at him. ‘Want what?’
Ash clasped his hands together, trying to stop the shaking. ‘To die.’
There was a heavy, horrible silence. Ash immediately regretted letting the words pass his lips.
He should have kept them locked in his mouth, kept them inside his head, where they belonged.
He should have never voiced it aloud, for fear that if it did come to pass, they would know the terrible sin he had committed.
It would tar all of them, the whole family doomed.
‘Raff, I did not—’
Raff threw himself forwards, wrapping his arms around Ash’s shoulders. The sudden onslaught of care was too much, and Ash attempted to push him off, but Raff clung harder.
‘I am so sorry,’ he said, refusing to let go. ‘I did not realise. I thought—’ A breath. ‘I did not know.’
‘You should be cursing my name.’
‘Never, Ash. Never. After France, you always seemed so close to an edge I could not see. I did not realise you were still there. I should have been able to tell.’
‘You have been rather busy,’ Ash said. ‘After running away and getting shot.’
Raff leaned back. Tears clung to his cheeks. ‘I should have realised,’ he repeated. ‘If there is anything I can do for you, anything, you only have to say. I— we will stay here with you as long as you need.’
‘But—’
‘But?’
‘I did all of this for you. You and your hostage.’
Raff frowned at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I knew that if I remained unwed and childless when I died’ – Raff made a little noise, which Ash ignored – ‘the title would pass to you. And you would become obliged to marry and have heirs yourself, to avoid the title falling into Hugh’s hands, and to ensure Father’s legacy could continue.
And do not argue,’ he added, spotting Raff’s expression.
‘We both know you would have felt like you had no choice in the matter. You would have married and had children and ruined the happiness you have worked so hard to achieve.’
‘Ash …’
‘I do not know what being forced to do that would do to you, or to Penn. I do not know how you could survive it. And I could not—’ He took a great, gasping breath. ‘I could not go without knowing you were safe from that fate.’
‘So finding a wife …’ Raff said, disbelieving, ‘you did it just so I would not have to do it myself?’
‘Yes.’ Ash nodded. ‘And ruin what you have with Penn.’
Raff’s expression shattered. He lunged forwards again with another hug. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘You deserve it and more, for all you have done for me,’ Ash said.
Raff leaned back, taking his hands. ‘You must promise me, Ash,’ he said, ‘that you will not go. Even if Agnes does have children.’
It was too huge a promise. ‘I can try,’ he said.
Another tear rolled down Raff’s face. ‘That is enough,’ he said. ‘Do you still feel the same? That the marriage is just to ensure heirs and the title and my stupid happiness?’
Ash looked down at their clasped hands. He shook his head silently.
‘Do you love her?’ Raff asked. ‘Do you love her as you love Oliver?’
Ash’s breath caught in his lungs.
‘Raff … is it even possible? Can you love … can you be in love with two people?’
The silence was deafening. Raff’s face was unreadable.
The longer they stayed there trapped in that silence – seconds that felt like minutes – the surer Ash was that Raff thought him cruel, or insane, or some kind of monster.
Raff, who had such a steadfast devotion to his own love, his only love.
He would tell Ash what he already knew: that he could not love two people.
That he would have to choose. That his broken mind was broken in this, too.
Eventually, Raff took a breath.
‘I do not know,’ he said. ‘Are you?’
Ash emerged from his chambers not long after Raff left him, the hound at his heels, seeking Olly and Agnes. He found them in the hall, trapped in conversation with Agnes’s family. They looked up when he entered, Olly’s face breaking into a smile and Agnes’s into relief.
‘Ash,’ she said, wrapping her arms around him. ‘Are you well?’
Ash looked down at her. His heart felt full and tight and painful. ‘As I can be.’ He shot a look towards her family, still sitting with Francis. ‘Do they know?’
Agnes sighed. ‘Some of it.’
She looked so exhausted with the whole affair. Not angry, not saddened – just worn, spread too thin.
Enough.
Ash took a step away from the long table.
‘My dear family—’ The Forretts looked up at him as one, even Francis pausing in his conversation with Muriel to peer at him. ‘I would like to speak to you. In my solar, if you please.’
Everyone rose. Olly rushed to Ash’s side.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What needs to be done,’ Ash said. ‘Agnes?’
She gave him a hard look. ‘Do it.’
Ash strode forwards, leading them into his solar. Before he could stop him, Francis threw himself carelessly into the high-backed chair behind the table. Ash’s chair. No: Ash’s father’s chair, from where he had ruled his lands and attempted, often without success, to teach Ash to be a good man.
‘So—’ Ash began.
‘My Lord.’ Francis cut him off. ‘I had wondered, in fact, if I may speak to you first.’
Ash did not like this. But he would allow Francis a chance to say his piece: perhaps he would incriminate himself after all.
‘Yes?’
‘I worry that we have no trust between us,’ Francis said. ‘Which saddens me greatly, considering how close Agnes and I are.’
Agnes snorted incredulously. Francis ignored her.
‘I do hope we can become friends, Barden,’ Francis droned. ‘I know Agnes better than many. She is spirited, that is true. I can ensure you know best how to tame that spirit.’
Olly tensed at Ash’s side.
‘Meaning?’ Ash said.
‘Meaning that she has a sharp tongue, and an … active imagination,’ said Francis. ‘One would hate for either to cause her problems.’
He knows, Ash thought. He knows that we know what he did.
‘One would,’ Ash said, pretending to agree. ‘Although I cannot think what you could possibly mean by that.’
‘She can get carried away,’ Francis said. ‘Especially regarding those she does not hold in high esteem.’
Ash said nothing. Francis clearly wanted a response: he would not give it to him.
‘I just wish to ensure she does not find herself in trouble.’
Further silence. Francis was beginning to twitch. ‘Especially important,’ he said, now leaning closer, ‘considering how much she courts trouble already, given her oddities in her choice of dress.’
‘Francis, please.’ Agnes glared at him.
‘Whatever is the matter?’ Francis continued smugly.
‘I was so shocked to learn that you had not grown out of that distasteful habit. I must ensure your husband is aware of it too, so he can put a stop to it. A woman in London was tried and punished not so long ago for dressing in such a way. You ought to remember your sex.’
‘You do not know what you are talking about.’
‘I am only telling you these things so you may be a good wife. I am quite sure your new husband would agree with me. He does not need his wife parading about like a degenerate.’
‘Enough.’
Francis fell silent, yet unafraid. Ash remembered all the things Francis had been told about him – the lies about his nature, about his violence, about his madness. He rounded on him, towering above him in the high-backed chair that was not his.
‘Shut your stupid mouth before I shut it for you.’
‘What—’
‘That is my wife.’ Ash snarled the word out, letting the rage fill him, letting it spill out of his mouth. ‘And you will treat her as such.’
Francis’s mouth hardened. ‘If she dresses and behaves like a degenerate sodomite, then I see no reason why I should not treat her as that instead.’
Ash snapped. He reached down, grabbed the collar of Francis’ doublet and hauled him to his feet. And then everyone was on their feet, Agnes behind him, her family behind Francis.
‘Get out of my castle,’ Ash said. ‘Get off my lands. Now.’
‘What in God’s name do you think you are—’
‘Oliver!’
Olly was by his side in an instant, one hand on the knife at his belt, looking gleeful.
‘Yes, my Lord?’
‘Get this man out of my sight.’
‘With pleasure.’