Chapter Seventeen
Penleigh House
Dane and Cort could smell the stench before they even saw the banners.
But once they entered the rather unguarded courtyard of Penleigh House, a beautiful manor home that was part of Trenton’s properties, they saw a collection of soldiers clustered over near the small stables and they saw the white standards with the small black crosses stitched onto them.
Dane turned to Cort in disgust.
“Bretons,” he growled.
Cort had that same look of disdain on his face. “Smelly, self-righteous fools,” he said. “They probably live here with her. When is the last time Da or Trenton was here, anyway?”
Dane shrugged. “I do not know,” he said.
Then, he looked around. “But I am sure any sentries are not de Russe. Wait – see them over by the corner of the wall? There are just two of them. Who in the hell are those bastards? This is Trenton’s property – there should be de Russe men guarding the walls. ”
Cort was looking around, too. “There is no one guarding the walls,” he said. “See how easily we entered? Utterly stupid.”
Dane couldn’t disagree. The came to the edge of the well-lit house, dismounting their horses and tying them off on an iron post. There was a water trough, made of stone, and the horses began to drink, but neither Dane nor Cort would stable the animals.
If they were to make a swift exit, then they wanted the beasts ready to go.
It had taken them two days to reach Penleigh, and they’d ridden hard, stopping only to rest the horses.
Now that they were here, their sense of outrage was magnified as they saw absolutely no de Russe trappings around the place.
Penleigh House was a moated manor house that was shaped like an “L”, not particularly large, with a separate kitchen yard, stables, and an area where the trades, such as tanning and smithing, took place.
All of it was fairly tightly compacted together inside the moated enclosure.
It was a rich place, and evidently poorly protected.
They could hear noise and music coming from within the house, and the smells of roasting meat wafted upon the air.
Over to their left, the Breton group had spied them and suspicious whispers could be heard, like gasps upon the wind, and Dane turned in their direction, unsheathing his broadsword in a blatant effort to show the group that he and Cort weren’t to be trifled with.
Already, there was tension in the air.
When Cort finally headed for the house, Dane was behind him, walking backwards to ensure that none of the Breton soldiers were going to try and follow.
Once they reached the elaborately carved entry door, which was open, they were met by a haughty servant who spoke French, inquiring their business. Cort didn’t hesitate in his answer.
“Dites à la comtesse que les frères de son mari sont là,” he said sharply. Tell the countess that her husband’s brothers are here. “Nous irons dans une chamber privèe.”
The servant’s eyes widened as two very big men came through the doorway, demanding to see his mistress in a private chamber. One was very big, and very dark, looking very much like his mistress’ husband, so that alone told him that these men were telling the truth.
The House of de Russe had arrived.
Nervously, the servant indicated a chamber that was just off the entry and scurried away.
The chamber seemed to be some kind of guard room, for it was tiny, with a hearth, a table and chair, and little else.
That chamber was in stark contrast to the entry itself, which was lavishly furnished and meant to impress.
Dark woods, carved and intricate, lined the walls, while overhead, Breton banners hung.
There was absolutely nothing to indicate this was a de Russe property and Cort eyed Dane, who was taking it all in with disgust.
“Look at this place,” Cort hissed as he entered the small chamber. “If I did not know this was Penleigh, I would think I was in Brittany.”
Dane cocked an eyebrow. “Can this woman get any lower with her degradation of the de Russe name?” he muttered. “This is astonishingly shameful.”
“And it has been going on for years,” Cort whispered angrily. “How long has she been doing this? How long?”
Dane felt Cort’s outrage. In fact, he had quite enough of his own. “Too long,” he said. Then, he jabbed a finger at Cort. “But this is going to stop, do you hear? This will be the end of it.”
Cort nodded, his jaw ticking as he pulled off a heavy glove to scratch his forehead. He was appalled with the situation; it was much worse than he imagined.
“I have a feeling we are too late with a bribe,” he muttered. “She is ingrained in Penleigh like vermin on a dog. She is not going to let this go easily.”
Dane was thinking the same thing but he wasn’t going to voice it.
The situation was repulsive in so many ways – with Adela turning Penleigh into a place in Brittany rather than the proud de Russe property that it was, and Trenton trying to block it all out by staying away and serving the king.
Not that he blamed his brother; he didn’t.
But the man was helpless against it, with a wife and the church telling him this was to be his life. His solution was to ignore it.
But Dane’s solution was to end it.
That’s what brothers did for one another.
So, he went to stand by the window, plotting out what he was going to say to Adela as Cort hissed and complained. He finally put up a hand to silence the man because he didn’t want Adela to hear the discord. He wanted her to think this was a friendly visit, at least for the time being.
In truth, Dane had been plotting out what he was going to say on the entire ride here.
Cort thought they should simply grab her and run, but Dane wanted to be a little less obvious about it, especially since she clearly had guests.
Even though the security at Penleigh was surprisingly lax, there were still Breton soldiers in the yard and unless they wanted a confrontation, whatever they did was going to have to be smooth and fast, with no screaming, and no obvious signs that they were taking the countess away.
But they were going to take the woman and run.
“What do you want?”
It was thickly-accented English that filled the chamber, and Dane and Cort turned to see Adela, Countess of Westbury, standing in the doorway.
Neither man had seen her in years, both of them remembering a rather plain, dull-looking woman.
Nothing had changed. She was short, with a round body, and only average in beauty, but she was wearing a dress that was so elaborate and encrusted with jewels and pearls that it had to weigh at least fifty pounds.
Her dark hair was slicked against her skull until it was gleaming, and a pearl-encrusted French hood dominated her big head.
Had she had any warmth at all on that pale face, she might have been pleasant to look at, but as it was, she only looked cold and empty.
They could read her hatred of everything they loved all over her.
“My lady,” Dane greeted her without emotion. “We have come on important business. May be speak somewhere private?”
Adela’s eyes narrowed. “What business?” she demanded. “What are you doing here, Dane de Russe? You were not invited here. I demand you leave immediately.”
Dane could see that, already, this was going poorly and he wasn’t going to let the woman bully him. He took a few steps, closing the gap between them.
“I would be most happy to shout our business to your guests, if that is what you prefer,” he said, “and like it or not, this is a de Russe property and your husband, my brother, pays for your extravagant little habits. Why is there not a Westbury banner flying in the entry alongside the Breton colors?”
Adela eyed him most unhappily. “Get out,” she hissed. “I do not want you here.”
Dane’s jaw ticked. “I do not care what you want,” he said. “This is my brother’s property, not yours. I am welcome whether or not you like it. Now, will you take us to someplace private, or will I shout your personal business for all to hear?”
Adela’s round face flushed, her cheeks turning pink.
She was unused to anyone countering her commands in her own home.
With a grunt of displeasure, she turned her back on Dane and Cort and began to march away.
They quickly followed, making sure she didn’t get away from them, as she pushed open an elaborately paneled door and entered a darkened hallway.
At the other end, they could see lights glowing, and they entered what appeared to be a solar.
There was a fire in the hearth, illuminating the opulent surroundings.
Dane couldn’t help but notice, casually, but Cort was less subtle about it.
He was looking around with his mouth hanging open.
There were fine furnishings and flashes of gold everywhere, and it became abundantly clear what Adela had been doing with Trenton’s money.
So far, they’d seen two rooms that were spectacularly furnished and Adela was wearing enough jewels to feed a small village for a year.
As the two of them inspected the room, Adela slammed the door behind them.
“Now,” she said. “What is so important that you would take me from my guests? And be swift; I have no time for your foolishness.”
Dane took another look around the room, noting that one set of glass windows overlooked the courtyard where they’d come in. They were at the opposite end of the courtyard from the Breton soldiers, which was a good thing if he decided to kick out the window and take Adela with him.
He returned his attention to her.
“It is not foolishness I bring, but a business proposition,” he said.
Her features tightened. “What business?”