Chapter Eighteen
Wellesbourne Castle
“My lord, you summoned me?”
Ranse was standing in Matthew’s solar, arriving swiftly at his lord’s summons, as Matthew knew he would.
He had a particular reason for summoning him this morning.
Trenton was still at Wellesbourne. Matthew knew that because Gaston, and Alixandrea, had told him, but Alixandrea had also told him that Lysabel had turned Trenton away when the man had begged her to run off with him.
Astounded, Matthew had listened to his wife relay the tale her daughter had told her, how Trenton had begged her to leave with him, and how Lysabel, for the sake of family honor, had refused.
Truth be told, Matthew was shocked to hear it. Shocked, but deeply relieved for his daughter’s sake. It was as if a massive weight had been lifted off of him. He honestly hadn’t known if Lysabel would make the right choice, but it turned out she had. The right choice for her, and for all of them.
But one that broke Trenton’s heart.
That’s what Gaston had told him, anyway. Trenton was holed up in his father’s chamber, and since the previous night had ingested at least three big pitchers of wine. As of this morning, he was sleeping off his drinking binge, which was why Matthew had summoned Ranse.
He had to move quickly in this situation.
He felt rather subversive about it, but he had little choice.
Better to move on with his plans to betroth Lysabel while Trenton was incapacitated, before the man sobered and perhaps made another try at convincing Lysabel to run away with him.
He wasn’t so sure his devastated daughter would be as strong the second time around.
Therefore, this conversation with Ranse had to take place now.
“I did,” Matthew said after a moment. “Please close the door.”
Ranse did as he was told, closing the solar door and then going to stand before Matthew rather formally.
Matthew’s gaze moved over the man. Ranse had been with him for a few years and was a solid, dedicated, and talented knight.
He was also obedient to a fault. Matthew barely had to lift a finger with Ranse around because the man anticipated him in almost everything.
He was so proactive that even William, the ne’er-do-well son, had noticed and teased Ranse endlessly about it.
Whenever Matthew would come around Ranse, William would start whistling to the knight as if he were a dog.
He called Ranse the “guard dog” because of his obedience to Matthew, but it was all in good fun.
The truth was that William admired Ranse a great deal, and as the only Wellesbourne son remaining at Wellesbourne to serve his father, he had learned quite a bit from Kenilworth Castle-trained de Troyes.
He was a good man.
Therefore, Matthew had no qualms about making him one of the family. He only hoped Ranse felt the same way.
“Ranse, you have been with me for several years now,” he said after a moment. “I hope it has been as good a relationship for you as it has been for me.”
Ranse nodded smartly. “It has, my lord,” he said. Then, he added, “When William isn’t annoying me.”
Matthew started to laugh. “That cannot be helped,” he said. “He annoys everyone. It is the unfortunate part of your job.”
Ranse fought off a smile. “I jest with you, my lord,” he said. “William is the life of Wellesbourne. Without him, it would be a sad and dull place. Present company excluded, of course.”
Matthew waved him off. “I agree with you completely,” he said. “Your patience with my youngest has been much appreciated. You do like it here, don’t you?”
“Aye, my lord. It is my home.” Suddenly, he looked at Matthew with some trepidation. “Are… are you considering sending me away, my lord? Is that why you are asking?”
Matthew shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “Sit down, Ranse. I must speak with you.”
Quickly, Ranse found a chair and sat on it, stiffly, his gaze on Matthew still full of trepidation in spite of Matthew’s reassurance that he wasn’t about to send the man away. Matthew went to sit across the table from him, his expression pensive.
“What I am about to tell you must not leave this room, at least for now,” he said quietly, seriously. “You must hold it in the strictest confidence. Is that clear?”
“It is, my lord.”
Matthew sat forward, his hand on the table, thinking how to phrase everything. He’d been thinking about it all night but, now, the time was upon him and he had to put his thoughts into words. He proceeded carefully.
“You know that we were all greatly saddened by the passing of your wife last year,” he said quietly. “Her death affected Lady Wellesbourne greatly.”
Ranse’s formal manner took a bit of hit, but he did nothing more than take a deep breath and force a smile. “I know, my lord,” he said. “Lady Wellesbourne was at my wife’s side during the birth. I have taken great comfort in the fact that she was holding my wife’s hand when she passed on.”
Matthew nodded, remembering that bleak point in time. Alixandrea had cried for two days afterwards. “Serving me as you have, we tend to look at you as part of the family, but the truth is that you are not; not really.” He paused. “Have you thought about remarrying, Ranse?”
Ranse seemed to falter a bit. “Nay,” he said honestly. “I was happy with my wife. I’ve no wish to replace her.”
Matthew considered that. He sat back in his chair, his focus intense on Ranse.
“I am asking you these questions for a reason, Ranse,” he said.
“There is something you should know. Benoit de Wilde is dead. The circumstances of his death are not important, but what is important is that my daughter is involved in it. The circumstances were beyond her control, believe me. As I have come to discover, de Wilde beat my daughter for years. He seriously abused her, and she is only now starting to heal. It is a good thing de Wilde is dead, for if he wasn’t, I would kill him. ”
Ranse’s eyes were filled with both shock and disgust. “The blackheart,” he muttered. “I had no idea.”
“No one did.”
“But Lady de Wilde seems well,” Ranse said, hope in his voice. “I have seen her several times since her arrival here and she seems very well.”
Matthew nodded. “She is,” he said. “As I said, she is healing, but I believe a strong and kind man will help her with that process, a process that no woman should have to go through alone. She is an heiress, you know. When I die, my eldest son, James, will inherit my titles and lands, but Lysabel will inherit Rosehill Manor in London. It has been in my family for many years and it is a very wealthy inheritance that includes the Syon Lordship, which is from my maternal grandmother. In any case, Lysabel brings a good deal with her to any marriage and would be a fine match for any man.”
Ranse was nodding until he began to realize that Matthew might mean him.
But then he thought he was imagining things because even though he was from a fine family, as the House of de Troyes was a powerful family around Bolton, north of Manchester, the fact remained that Ranse was the third son of Lord Tottington, a very powerful warlord affiliated with the Earls of Carlisle.
He’d grown up having to fight for everything he had against two aggressive older brothers, which is why he loved Wellesbourne so much – he was a man all his own, without having to submit to two older brothers who only wanted to kill each other for the Tottington fortune.
He’d grown up believing he was subservient to the rest of his family.
So, clearly, Lord Wellesbourne couldn’t mean him.
… could he?
“I believe she would be, my lord,” he agreed after a moment’s pause. “She and her daughters would be a fine tribute to any man.”
“She is pregnant with her third child. Benoit’s child.”
Ranse’s eyebrows lifted, but only for a brief moment. “I see,” he said. “But it is of no matter. The man she marries can simply raise the child as his own, better still if it is a son.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Matthew said. “Ranse, I would like to offer you my daughter’s hand in marriage. I would like to see you become part of the Wellesbourne family, and when she inherits Rosehill, you will make a fine Lord Syon. Is there any reason why you cannot accept this offer?”
Ranse thought that he was prepared for the offer.
He wasn’t. In fact, he did something at that moment that, under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have done.
He stood up and turned his back to Matthew, pacing away from the man, pondering the extremely generous and attractive offer he’d just been made.
He was shocked.
“Nay, there is not,” he finally said, turning to look at Matthew. “But how does Lady de Wilde feel about it?”
Matthew stood up. “She does not know,” he said.
“I have not yet told her. I thought to seal the contract with you before telling her. She does not know you, Ranse, but you are a likable man. I know you will endear yourself to her and her children, with time. But know… know that she has some personal issues, all relating to the death of Benoit. It will take her time to overcome them, but I am certain that with your help, she can.”
Ranse nodded, wondering very seriously what those issues were. “My lord, since you have asked me to marry the woman, will you tell me how Lord de Wilde died? I feel as if I have a right to know this. You said she was involved – did she kill him?”
Matthew shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Trenton de Russe killed him when he caught him beating Lysabel.”
This time, Ranse couldn’t keep the shock off his face. “Is that why de Russe escorted her to Wellesbourne?”
“Aye. He brought Lysabel home and remained to make sure she was well. He is an old family friend, you know. His concern was not unusual.”
Ranse nodded quickly. “Of course not,” he said. “It was quite chivalrous of him to do so.”