Chapter Seventeen
The great hall of the Tower of London was full of the nobles and fighting men of England.
Davyss had spent hours in conference with de Montfort’s barons, men he had fought with and against for many years.
They were all surprised to see a de Winter at de Montfort’s side, but the older barons who had known Grayson de Winter also knew that he and Simon had been the best of friends.
To them, it was therefore not so surprising.
Still, Davyss de Winter had been a staunch supporter of Henry.
It was odd to see him on the other side.
It was evident very early on that de Montfort was determined to give the rule of England to the people through their representatives.
He insisted that each borough send two elected representatives, something that seemed to upset the nobles because they were concerned that it would affect their rule over their own lands.
Those who had strongly supported de Montfort were now secretly wondering if they should have supported someone who intended to give the country back to the people and not directly back to the nobility.
Davyss had listened to their growing dissention for several days now, digesting it, and preparing plans of his own.
He ended up back at Hollyhock, telling his knights to meet him in a half hour up in his solar.
The evening was humid and he was sweating rivers as he made his way into the house and up to the third floor.
He didn’t even bother greeting his mother, who was down in her solar with her ladies and her dogs.
Hugh went in to see her but Davyss did not.
His one and only thought at the moment was to see his wife.
He found Devereux sitting in the lounge chair of their massive chamber, positioned by the window to catch the last rays of the dying sun. She was wearing a lovely yellow surcoat, her luscious hair pulled to the nape of her neck as she focused on a piece of needlework in her hand.
Davyss entered the chamber, pulling his damp tunic over his head as he approached her. But the moment the tunic came over his head and his gaze focused on her, he came to a halt.
“What is that?” he jabbed a finger at her.
Devereux looked up from her sewing, having no idea what he was talking about until she followed his focus. At the foot of the lounge, lying very contentedly, was a small puppy with fuzzy orange hair. She smiled at her husband’s outrage.
“Your mother gave him to me,” she said. “Isn’t he sweet?”
Davyss made a face as he tossed the soiled tunic to the floor. “Are you serious, woman?” he began to unhappily unlatch his armor. “A dog?”
Devereux giggled. “His name is Louie. You must be very nice to him.”
Davyss continued to make faces as he removed his armor, eyeing the dog.
In truth, he wasn’t all that mad about it; it was the first time she had smiled in days.
Devereux had been depressed and sad since her miscarriage two weeks before, a state he had tried desperately to pull her out of.
Leaving The House of Hope with Stephan Longham and his brothers in charge, he had taken her to London in the hope that it would improve her health and spirit.
But it had worked the opposite effect; she refused to leave Hollyhock at all, staying to their rooms and only coming downstairs to eat when Lady Katharine pleaded.
She had been reclusive and quiet, something that disturbed Davyss tremendously.
Davyss had also been worried about his mother’s reaction to the loss of an heir, adding to his stress, but his mother had been surprisingly sympathetic.
He found out why one night after they had both imbibed too much wine; Lady Katharine had suffered four miscarriages prior to Davyss’ healthy birth.
He’d never known that. Moreover, she had another two miscarriages between Davyss and Hugh.
So his mother understood well what Devereux was experiencing.
Katharine reassured her son that there would be more children someday. Davyss didn’t care about any more children at the moment; he simply wanted a happy, healthy wife again. Even with all of the turmoil going on with de Montfort, it was all he could think about.
Therefore, the addition of the little dog didn’t distress him as much as he pretended it did. When he bent over to kiss his wife in greeting, the puppy rolled over, struggled to his feet, and barked. Devereux laughed as Davyss scowled.
“You foolish little mutt,” he scolded. “You shall not chase me from my own wife.”
The dog growled and wriggled its tail, finally taking the hem of his wife’s gown and chewing enthusiastically on it. Devereux continued to laugh as Davyss just shook his head at the puppy’s antics. He went back to the chamber door and called to the servants for hot water.
“Did you have a pleasant day, sweetheart?” Devereux asked as she turned back to her sewing.
He thought on the irony of that question, knowing she had no idea the depth that the answer would contain. So he kept it simple.
“It was busy,” he removed the last of his armor and went to work on the damp linen tunic underneath. “What did you do today?”
She sighed faintly, looking up from her needlework to the western sky with his myriad of colors. “I helped Frances pack,” she said. “She is going to be with Nik, you know.”
“I know.”
“Lollardly sent word that he will be arriving on the morrow to take her to Sussex.”
Davyss nodded faintly; he knew that. He had been the one to receive the missive, in fact, that Nik was still alive at Lewes Castle.
Frances, usually so dour and humorless, had wept profusely at the news of her husband’s injury and was eager to be with him.
Davyss missed Nik’s presence a great deal in these times of trial and tried not to be selfish about it.
He was just glad the man had apparently pulled through.
“Is that all you did today, then?”
She half-shrugged, half-nodded. “Aye,” she replied, reaching out to pet the puppy. “Louie and I have been very companionable loafing about.”
He pulled off the damp tunic, hearing the servants in the small servant’s alcove between the rooms as they began to fill a big copper tub with steaming water.
“I have heard something that I think might interest you,” he said casually, unlacing the top of his breeches. “Perhaps you will not want to loaf around when you hear it.”
She didn’t seem particularly curious. “What is it?”
“Well,” he sat on the bed and began to remove his heavy boots. “With all of the nobility in town, someone brought up the bright idea to have a tournament celebrating de Montfort’s victory. Everyone seemed to think it was a brilliant idea.”
“Why would that interest me?”
“Because I have been goaded into competing.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “What?” she looked horrified. “You… you are going to compete in a tournament?”
He looked at her, amused. “And why not? I am the reigning grand champion at the tournaments in Greenwich, Oxford, Banbury, Thetford and Northampton. I am fairly good at it.”
She just stared at him a moment before turning back to her sewing. “Of course you are, sweetheart,” she murmured softly.
He was about to remove his breeches but stopped when he heard her tone. He went over to her, bare feet against the wooden floor.
“What is wrong?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head even though she wouldn’t look up at him. “Nothing,” she insisted weakly. “I… I am simply hungry. It should be time for sup soon. Aren’t you hungry?”
He lifted an eyebrow; he didn’t believe her for a moment. He gently shoved her over on the lounge, sitting down beside her and taking her into his powerful arms. Devereux surrendered to his warmth and power, collapsing against him and burying her face in his sweaty, musky chest. It was like heaven.
“Do you not like tournaments?” he asked softly, giving her a squeeze. “They are very exciting and great sport, I might add.”
She shifted so the left side of her head was against his chest. She could hear his heart beating strong and steady.
“Nay,” she whispered. “I do not like them.”
“Why not?”
She sighed faintly, thinking. “I saw you compete in a tournament three years ago in Acle,” she said softly. “Do you recall that tournament?”
He grunted. “Of course. I won the joust.”
“I know,” her voice was faint. “It was the first time I ever saw you, though I cannot recall paying terribly close attention. It was my first tournament and my father insisted I attend, so the entire spectacle was rather overwhelming. I do believe my father wanted me to attend because he wanted to attract a husband for me. This was before your mother approached him with a contract. Three years ago, I was still very much an unattached maiden.”
He grinned, hugging her tightly. “Thank God that no one approached your father before my mother could get to him,” he kissed the top of her head. “I am surprised that I did not notice you. Usually, I….”
He suddenly stopped before he could get himself into trouble. Devereux grinned, lifting her head from his chest to look him in the eye.
“You usually… what?” she pressed.
He shook his head and tried to get up, but she sat on him and pushed him down.
“Let me see if I can finish your statement,” she teased.
“Usually you spied all of the beautiful women within the first hour of your arrival and picked off your conquests one by one, as a good hunter would, until none were left standing in the end. Am I right?”