Chapter Three #2
“That does not matter, and you know it,” Roi said steadily.
“Age has no bearing here. I have more money than you do. I have property, prestige, and political position, and a family name that is respected throughout England. I have proven that I can father children, and, quite honestly, I am sure you would rather have your daughter married to a man who knows how to treat a wife than some young lord who has no concept of how a marriage should be conducted. I understand how to treat a woman. What more could you want?”
Nothing. That was the point—there was nothing more Robin could want. It was the perfect solution. The more he thought on it, the more thrilled he was.
“Roi,” he said with sincerity in his tone. “I am truly at a loss for words. I never expected to marry my daughter to the second son of the Earl of Hereford and Worcester. That is a great and noble destiny for any woman.”
“Then you accept?”
“I do. With God as my witness, I do.”
“Good,” Roi said, turning back to his father. “Papa, have your cleric draw up the agreement. I will sign it.”
Christopher was looking at his son with great concern, trying to see how Roi really felt about this. It had taken the man years to get over his first wife’s death, and he’d never, in that time, expressed interest in marrying again.
Until now.
Until he was given no choice.
“Are you sure?” Christopher asked softly. “Roi, are you absolutely sure?”
Roi nodded, but it was with effort. “Have the contract drawn up, please,” he said. “I would appreciate it.”
Christopher didn’t make a move to summon his cleric, a man who happened to be married to his youngest sister.
Gowen was his name, a scholarly man who had aptly helped Christopher manage his empire for years.
But he didn’t want Gowen at the moment. He stood up and went to the table that held wine and cups, pouring measures for them all.
Roi got the biggest measure. He handed the drink over to his son and watched him drain the cup in two swallows.
That told him just how strained Roi was over the situation.
What the man did in order to save an alliance.
Sadness gripped him.
“It did not have to be you,” he said so only Roi could hear him. “I nearly had Curtis convinced that it should be William.”
William de Lohr was Curtis’ second son, a good and noble lad, but he was also quite young.
“Nay,” Roi said, feeling exhausted and defeated now that the anger had drained from his veins.
“William is not ready for marriage yet, and if Robin’s daughter is abused or neglected in any way, it will sour this alliance faster than if there had been no marriage at all.
You know that. If you want this alliance safely made, then this is the only way. ”
Christopher could hear his words reflected in Roi’s statement, how he’d insisted the alliance with Cheltenham was something to be upheld in this matter.
The way Roi made it sound, it was perhaps the most important thing to Christopher.
But it wasn’t—Christopher felt guilty that he’d evidently hammered that into Roi’s brain too hard.
It had caused Roi to make an offer he didn’t want to make, but what was done was done.
It was finished.
“I apologize if I was hard on you, Roi,” Robin said, breaking the silence in the chamber.
“I realize you just lost your son, and I am greatly grieved for you, but you must understand that my primary concern is my daughter. She is involved in this whether or not you like it. I must look out for her best interests.”
After his burst of anger, Roi couldn’t even muster the strength to discuss it with the man. But he needed to make his position perfectly clear because he’d just committed to marrying the earl’s daughter in his son’s stead.
Their relationship was going to change.
“And I must look out for mine,” he said, turning to Robin. “Understand I am only doing this in place of my son. It is my duty. I am not doing this because I want your daughter or her money or your earldom, but those things shall be mine now, and you and I are going to come to an understanding.”
“Of course, Roi,” Robin said, oddly compliant now that he had what he wanted. “What is it?”
Roi’s gaze was intense. “Firstly, you will apologize to my father for harassing him,” he said. “Do not deny it, because I hear it for myself. Apologize to this legendary man for your abominable behavior in a difficult situation.”
Robin looked at Christopher, clearly regretting the temper tantrum he’d been pitching since his arrival.
“My lord,” he said. “I did not mean to disrespect you. As I said, the situation had me on edge. My daughter’s future was of the utmost concern to me.
If I was abusive, then I beg your forgiveness. ”
Christopher finished the cup of wine in his hand and poured himself another. “I have done verbal battle with men far greater and far more annoying than you,” he said in a subtle insult. “Your alliance is valuable, le Bec, but sometimes you are difficult to stomach.”
He went back over to his big table, a heavy oak table that had been built by some of the finest craftsmen in London.
The de Lohr crest was on each side of the table, perfect in presentation, except for one side where Curtis and Roi, when they’d been small boys, had tried to carve their names into the shield.
They’d received a fatherly beating, but Christopher still smiled when he saw their juvenile marks.
He ran his fingers over those marks, reminding himself that the young boy who had carved them was now making a man’s sacrifice.
“What must I do to gain your forgiveness?” Robin said, following from a distance. “I do not wish to be at odds with you, my lord.”
Christopher held up a hand. “There is nothing to forgive… this time,” he said. “But come at me again with your petulance and I will not be so forgiving a second time. Is that clear?”
“It is, my lord. Thank you.”
Christopher pointed to Roi. “And thank my son, who has made a great sacrifice this day,” he said.
“He had no intention of marrying again, but because we value the Cheltenham alliance and because he felt that he must personally honor the betrothal contract in Beckett’s stead, he has made a most noble sacrifice to keep our relationship intact. ”
Robin looked at Roi. “You know I am grateful,” he said, sounding deeply sincere. “I know that Diara will have the finest husband in England. She is a good girl, Roi. She is kind and obedient. She will make a fine wife.”
Roi simply nodded his head. Then he set his empty cup aside and quit the chamber because he simply couldn’t look at Robin anymore.
The more he realized what he had done, the more regret he felt.
Nay, he didn’t want to marry, but that didn’t matter anymore.
The only thing that gave him just a hint of pleasure was the fact that perhaps now he could have more children.
Another son. It seemed that he had failed his family in that respect, so now he felt that he could at least fulfil his family obligations and procreate.
Maybe that was the only good thing that would come out of this.
As he headed out of the keep to get some fresh air and reconcile himself to his new future, he tried to remember what Diara le Bec looked like. He’d met her face to face only once, when Robin had brought her to Pembridge so that she and Beckett could become acquainted.
Roi remembered that she was somewhat tall and willowy, with long blonde hair and a beautiful face.
That much, he did remember. She was a beautiful girl, and even Beckett had commented on the fact.
He also seemed to recall that she had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, the color of periwinkle.
But beyond that, he had no real impression of her because he’d not spent any time with her.
Beckett had. Roi had spent all of his time with Robin while their children became acquainted under the watchful eye of Lady Cheltenham.
“Well? What happened?”
The voice came from behind. Roi turned to see Westley standing there along with another brother, Douglas.
Douglas de Lohr was big and blond, like most of the de Lohrs, with straight, pale hair that hung down over one eye and a faint growth of beard on his face.
He was three years older than Westley, known as the quiet brother due to a slight speech impediment.
He was more of a follower than a leader, but he would carry out any order, any time, without hesitation or question.
When one was entering into any kind of armed conflict, Douglas de Lohr was the knight everyone wanted.
The first man into a fight and the last one out.
He was a knight’s knight.
“Well?” Douglas said. “Did you give back to Cheltenham what he’s been dishing out since his arrival?”
Douglas’ speech impediment manifested itself as a slight lisp, which made him self-conscious although no one else really noticed. But Roi shook his head.
“Not as much as I should have,” he said. “Had he been bellowing at Father like that since his arrival?”
Both Westley and Douglas nodded. “Why do you think Curtis sent word to you?” Westley said. “Cheltenham was yelling the moment he rode in through the gatehouse. What happened in there?”
Roi sighed heavily. “I told him to apologize to Father.”
Westley and Douglas grinned in approval. “Good,” Douglas said. “The arrogant bore. What else? Is he getting his money back?”
“He is not getting his money back.”
“Is his daughter marrying William?”
Roi shook his head. “Nay, not William.”
“Praise the saints,” Westley said, looking at Douglas in relief. “I told Papa about the girl, you know. He must have taken that to heart.”
Roi looked between his brothers. “What girl?”
“Cheltenham’s daughter,” Westley said.
“What about her?”
“It seems that the girl has something of a reputation.”
Roi blinked slowly. He didn’t like the sound of that at all. “What kind of reputation?”