Chapter Nineteen
She could see them from her mother’s small solar.
With a kerchief to her nose, Lysabel watched the de Russe escort as it formed in the stable yard and spilled over into the bailey.
She knew they were preparing to return home without anyone telling her.
But from the window, she could see Trenton as he moved through the men and horses, making sure everything was prepared for the journey home.
A sob escaped her lips as she watched, knowing this would probably be the last time she ever saw the man.
Her father had told her about the betrothal to de Troyes, and she hadn’t stopped crying since.
She knew what she wanted, and what she couldn’t have, and it was tearing her to pieces.
She finally had to turn away because watching it was too much to take.
Sitting on one of her mother’s cushioned chairs, she put her kerchief to her face and sobbed.
Distracted with her grief and weeping, Lysabel didn’t notice her mother opening the solar door, only to stand there and watch her daughter with an expression of great sorrow on her face.
Alixandrea had just come from her husband, who had much the same expression that her daughter did, only without the tears.
They were both deeply upset by the situation, but Matthew was standing by his decision.
Although he felt it was best for Lysabel in the long run, Alixandrea still wasn’t certain.
Most of all, she felt sorry for Ranse, who was put in a position between two lovers that he knew nothing about.
It wasn’t ideal.
Matthew had told his wife that he refrained from telling Ranse about Lysabel’s attachment to Trenton, thinking that it should come from his daughter if, in fact, she wanted to tell him at all.
And as Alixandrea watched her daughter weep, she thought that it was perhaps time Lysabel became more acquainted with the man she was betrothed to.
The situation was bad enough without Lysabel making herself sick over it, and Alixandrea didn’t want to give the woman too much time to grieve.
Her life had been in enough turmoil over the past several weeks, so perhaps talking to Ranse might give her hope that a calm, peaceful life was on the horizon.
Right now, Lysabel was not only grieving Trenton’s loss, but fearing the prospect of a future with a man she knew nothing about. If nothing else, speaking to Ranse might take her mind off of Trenton and the escort in the bailey, and introduce her to the man she was going to marry.
At least, Alixandrea hoped so. She had to do something, and she felt as if she’d talked to her daughter all she could about the situation. There was nothing more she could say that Lysabel hadn’t already heard.
The time for talk was over.
Closing the door softly, she went in search of Ranse.
Unaware of her mother’s departure, Lysabel continued to sniffle and sob. She felt as if she’d suffered through a death. Trenton was gone – and it was her doing – but the day after she refused to go with him, she was starting to have some second thoughts about it.
Perhaps, she hadn’t made the right decision, after all.
Perhaps, she should take the girls and flee with Trenton, as he had suggested, and no one would ever know what had become of them.
He had offered to take her someplace where no one would know them, and as the day progressed and the escort outside began to assemble, that offer was looking more and more attractive.
Uncertainties wracked her. What did it matter that her family was shamed? They would get over it. They would move on with their lives, and she would live hers with the only man she’d ever loved.
Wasn’t that better than being without him?
… wasn’t it?
In the midst of her mental turmoil, a knock on the solar door startled her. Wiping at her face, she turned away from the door as she spoke.
“Who is it?” she called, muffled.
“Ranse, my lady,” came the voice through the door. “May I enter?”
De Troyes. Lysabel’s head shot up, looking at the door as if her mortal enemy was on the other side of it.
Her first reaction was to scream at him to go away, but she quickly realized that none of this was his doing.
Her father was the instigator and Ranse, being that he served her father, had probably felt obligated to agree to Matthew’s offer.
Although she didn’t know the man very well, he had been kind in their brief contact.
Now, the man was to be her husband. Chasing him away wasn’t going to change that.
With a heavy sigh, she wiped the last of her tears.
“Come in,” she said.
The door creaked open and Ranse stepped in. Lysabel could hear him. She wasn’t really looking at him but she forced herself to at least turn her head in his direction even if she couldn’t bear to look at the man.
“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked, her nose stuffy from crying.
Ranse lingered by the door. “I came to ask your permission to take your daughters riding on the ponies I procured for them, my lady,” he said politely. “The children are in the garden, but your mother says that they would prefer to ride and she told me to seek your permission.”
He had a nice, deep voice. Soothing, even. Lysabel rubbed her eyes as she lifted her head towards the window that overlooked the bailey, hearing the noise from outside.
“The black and white pony tries to bite Cissy,” she said. “She says the pony does not love her.”
Back against the door, Ranse smiled. “He loves her, my lady,” he said. “He simply does not know how to show it. I found the pony in a livery in town, corralled with many other horses, so I think he is used to having the other horses bite at him. It is what he knows.”
Lysabel nodded, but she didn’t reply. She simply sat there, leaving Ranse by the door, until the silence grew awkward. Then, she spoke.
“My father told me that you and I are to be wed,” she finally said.
Ranse, who had been poised to leave the room when the silence between them grew lengthy, now paused.
“Aye, my lady,” he said. Clearing his throat somewhat nervously, he took a few steps towards her. “May I say that I can think of no greater honor than to be married into the House of Wellesbourne.”
Lysabel turned to look at him, giving him a second glance. As she’d noticed before, the man was handsome. He was long-limbed, but muscular, with tanned skin and angular features.
“Is that all this means to you?” she asked bluntly. “Being married into the House of Wellesbourne?”
Up until that point, Ranse had been uncomfortable and uncertain what to say to the lady, who had clearly been weeping.
When Lady Wellesbourne had asked him to go to the solar to ask her about her daughters and the pony rides, he’d been disheartened to her sobbing through the door.
He knew without a doubt it was because of him, and a marriage she’d clearly not wanted after the very recent death of her husband, so he was coming to feel hugely guilty in all of this.
Now, with her question, he realized that he had to say something to make his position plain, if only to alleviate some of the lady’s concerns.
He didn’t want to start off this relationship on a bad note.
He wanted to build something that he and his first wife once had – he wanted a friend, lover, and companion again.
“Nay, my lady, not at all,” he said sincerely. “May… may I sit?”
Lysabel lifted her shoulders and looked away, but Ranse took it as an affirmative. There was a chair a few feet away from her and he went to it, settling his big body into it as he looked at her.
“I did not mean that to sound as if that is all I am concerned with,” he said quietly.
“The truth is that your father’s offer was quite unexpected.
And even as he spoke of it, I could not believe he meant it for me.
My greatest honor will be to be your husband, and a father for your children.
Being part of the House of Wellesbourne is secondary to that, I assure you.
I am sorry that my clumsy words did not convey that. ”
Lysabel turned to look at him; he seemed quite sincere and eager, in fact. In any other circumstance, she might have been happy about this, but all she could think of when she looked at him was that he wasn’t Trenton.
“It is, in no way, a reflection upon you, but I am not pleased with my father’s contract,” she said. “I have no wish to remarry.”
Ranse suspected as much. Even Matthew had told him that his daughter had some issues, so this wasn’t unexpected.
“I understand,” he said. “I am a stranger, so there is no reason why you should wish to marry me. Moreover, your husband’s death was recent. Your father told me the circumstances, so I do not presume that you are mourning his loss.”
She looked at him with some surprise. “He told you how Benoit died?”
“He did.”
Lysabel’s expression flickered, her eyes narrowing somewhat. “Did he tell you why?”
Ranse nodded. “I asked him, and he obliged me,” he said.
“My lady, please allow me to be plain – what your father told me was revolting. I am very sorry for what you had to endure at the hands of Lord de Wilde, but let me assure you that as Lady de Troyes, you would know nothing but respect and honor and gentleness. De Russe is a champion in my eyes for having killed Lord de Wilde for what he did to you and he shall always have my greatest respect because of it.”