Chapter Three
“She does not want anything to do with me. Do you now see how miserable you have made us both?”
Lady Katharine sat patiently as her eldest son ranted.
In the lavish solar of Breckland Castle with its massive walls and elaborate gardens, Davyss had been pacing around for over an hour.
His source of agitation was his new bride, now locked in a chamber in the powerful keep of Castle Acre Castle.
Davyss was afraid what would happen if he didn’t lock her in, so he had bolted the door and headed for his mother’s castle to let her know what, exactly, he thought of her little matchmaking scheme.
“It matters not how either of you feel,” Katharine replied steadily, carefully stitching the petit poi in her hands. It was a colorful collection of birds. “You are married and that is the end of it.”
Davyss’ jaw ticked faintly. “It is not the end of it. She hates all I stand for, Mother. She will not be an agreeable or compliant wife in the least.”
Katharine continued to stitch. “Is that what you were expecting?” she didn’t look up from her hands. “Mere agreement and compliance?”
“What else is there?”
Katharine lifted her thin eyebrows. “There is much more, my son. Perhaps that is why I arranged this marriage so you would understand that there is more to life than kings and compliant women.”
He faced her, a scowl on his face and his hands on his slender hips. “What are you talking about?”
Katharine glanced up at him, a hint of a smile on her old lips.
“You have seen thirty years and four, Davyss. What have you learned in that time? That the more men you kill and the more power you wield, the more women will fall at your feet unconditionally? Have you ever had a conversation with a woman that was not foolish courtly flirting? Have you ever known a woman to show strength of character or courage in the face of adversity? Or do you simply view them as sheep as you select your dame du jour from the flock?”
His scowl was gone by now. After a moment, he sighed heavily. “I am sure you are driving at a point but I cannot see what it is.”
“Aye, you can,” Katharine set her needlepoint down.
“I am trying to tell you that there is more to life than fighting, dying and cheap women, Davyss. You are a wise, intelligent man and God has given you excellent character and judgment. You are at an age where you need to understand that family is as important as those things you have fought all your life to achieve; a good wife, intelligent and strong without political aspirations, and sons to carry on your name. And, if you are lucky, you and your wife will be fond of each other like your father and I were. It makes life worth living to rise every morning to the face of someone you are very fond of. It means more than all the money and power in the world.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “If you wanted me to experience a fond wife, then you have most definitely cursed me. She shall never be fond of me.”
“She will make a man out of you.”
Both eyebrows lifted in outrage. “Is that what you think? That I am not a man yet?”
Katharine’s smile broke through. “You still have a great deal to learn. Telling a woman how powerful and handsome you are is not the mark of a true man.”
He snorted and turned away. “I doubt there is anything my new wife could teach me.”
The old woman’s smile faded. “Allow me to tell you something about your new wife, Davyss, and perhaps you will understand what type of woman it is that you have married,” she set the needlepoint on the table and leaned back in her chair.
“From a young age, Lady Devereux has known the true meaning of service and charity. Her mother started the poorhouse on the northern edge of Thetford several years ago and your wife helped her mother feed and shelter the needy. I have heard tale that she has gone without so that others less prosperous could have just a little. I began hearing rumors of this years ago so I started giving money to the poorhouse to continue the charity work that Devereux and her mother started. All the while, I kept my eye on this girl. I knew she had depth of character and morals that most women could only hope to bear. And I knew, someday, that I would marry one of my sons to her.”
By this time, Davyss’ belligerent expression was gone. “I know that place you speak of.”
“Of course you do. You pass by it every time you come from London to visit me.”
“They call it La Maison d’Espoir, I believe.”
“Aye, they do. The House of Hope.”
He actually looked surprised. “She is a part of that place?”
Katharine nodded, eyeing her son and realizing the information was having its desired effect. If nothing else, she knew her son well; he was hot-tempered and conceited, but he was not afraid to admit when he was wrong. It was a good trait.
“Not only is she a part of that place, but she has seen to its operation since her mother passed away,” Katharine said. “Do you remember that epidemic that swept through the town about five years ago?”
He nodded. “I was in London at the time. I remember you told me of it.”
His mother dark eyes were piercing. “Do you know that she nursed a great many people during that time?” When he shook his head rather weakly, she continued.
“While others fled the area, including her father, your wife and her mother stayed to nurse the sick. Eventually Devereux and her mother were taken ill with the same affliction; the mother died but Devereux was spared.”
Davyss stood there, staring at his mother as he processed what she had told him. Eventually he found a chair and sat, struggling to come to grips with the situation.
“Then I am sure she is selfless and true,” he replied. “But she holds no respect for me at all.”
“What do you think of her?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question after all I have told you?”
“I am asking what you think when you look at her. Is she beautiful?”
He thought on the silken blonde hair and gray eyes. “Aye,” he admitted. “She is damn beautiful, in fact. I have never seen such beauty.”
“And if you had seen her in London, would you have pursued her based upon her beauty alone?”
“Absolutely. She is a fine prize for any man. I will be the talk of court when people see the beauty of the woman I have married.”
Katharine cast her son a rather disapproving look. “Based upon her appearance alone she is worthy to be seen on your arm, eh? Was there nothing else you found attractive about her?”
He pursed his lips irritably, thinking on their brief encounter. “She… well, she was rather humorous.”
“Humorous?”
“She made me laugh.”
“I see,” Katharine looked down at her sewing so he would not see the smile on her lips; he sounded utterly distressed that the woman had the power to make him laugh. “So she is beautiful and humorous. And this distresses you because she does not view you in the same light?”
He could hear a mocking note in his mother’s tone and he refused to look at her. “She despises me. She said as much.”
Katharine shrugged. “Perhaps she will overcome that with time,” she said softly. “Give her a reason to respect you, Davyss. Sometimes esteem is more than simply handling a sword better than most or bearing the honor of the king. It comes from the heart, not the hand.”
He looked at her. “She is not perfect, either. She is proud and arrogant.”
Katharine picked up her needlepoint and resumed. “Perhaps,” she said faintly as she began to sew. “If I were you, I would try to get to know her before making such judgments.”
He lifted an eyebrow, hearing his own words in them. Rising from the chair, he exhaled sharply and puffed out his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore.
“What would you suggest I do, then?” he ventured. “You started this. What brilliant stars of wisdom do you have for me in dealing with my new wife?”
Katharine scrutinized her son; he favored her with his dark hair and hazel eyes, something that his father had lamented.
Grayson Davyss de Winter had been a handsome man, no doubt, but his son’s handsome appearance had eclipsed him.
Davyss was a spectacular example of the male species and he was well aware of the fact which was why, his mother suspected, he was so baffled at Lady Devereux’s reaction to him.
The possibility that the woman would not swoon at his feet had never occurred to him.
“Shave off that forest on your face and cut your hair,” she told him. “You are not usually so shaggy in appearance”
“I have been traveling for weeks.”
“That is no excuse for your lack of attention to your appearance,” she sniffed. “You may want to bathe as well. I can smell you from here.”
Davyss gave her a look that suggested he thought her to be ridiculous. “I apologize that I am so offensive.”
His mother fought off a grin. “And bring her a gift,” she said. “Go into my chamber upstairs and collect what you will for her.”
“Like what?”
“Jewels. Clothing, if you think it will fit her. You just married the woman; ply her with gifts.”
He puckered his lips wryly. “Anything else?”
Katharine shook her head and returned her attention to the needle in her hand. “You will have to figure it out for yourself.”
He pursed his lips irritably, his gaze moving to the window that overlooked the bailey below. Business went on as usual below, in sharp contradiction to the unexpected turn his life just took.
“I do not need this additional burden,” he muttered. “I have more pressing problems in London at the moment. I do not need the addition of a cantankerous new wife.”
Katharine stopped sewing, casting him a sharp glance. “That is exactly what you need.”
*
The room wasn’t particularly large or well appointed.
In fact, it was rather sparse with its single unused bed and old table.
Having only heard of Castle Acre Castle, Devereux had been told it was a mysterious place, full of military implications, and now she found herself in the heart of it. It only heightened her sense of misery.