Chapter Nine
The Village of Brompton
“Did you secure me the best room?”
The question came from Marian, though it was far more of a demand than a question. Her lady, the one who usually caused the trouble and slapped the servants, and who had forced the pork pie upon Isabeth when they’d traveled from Middlesbrough to Ravenscar, nodded firmly.
“Aye, my lady,” she said. “You have the very best chamber. The innkeeper will show us to it now.”
Marian was still on her palfrey. She refused to get off until everything was set – her chamber, her food, and her bath, so now that it had been confirmed, she was more than willing to part with her escort for the night.
Men who would sleep in a barn or under a tree.
She would spare no money for their comfort, mostly because they were de Wolfe men.
But there were several de Grey men mingled with the de Wolfe troops back at Ravenscar.
That was usual since she’d brought five hundred of them as part of her dowry and they had been integrated into the de Wolfe army.
In truth, there was no differentiating the de Grey from the de Wolfe men any longer because they were all Ronan’s men, all sworn to him, but Marian treated them a little different.
She still separated the de Grey men from the rest.
There were a few back at Ravenscar even now, men her ladies fornicated with and who happily spied on Ronan for her.
They always had, but in ten years of marriage, there had never been anything substantial for them to report on.
Ronan was a good man, faithful to his vows, and that was all they ever reported.
Even though that was the report she expected from Ravenscar, still, she wanted to know what was going on there.
She wanted to know about that horrid Lady de Brito and any other details they could provide her because, deep down, Marian was a terrible gossip.
And she liked to spy.
So leaving Ravenscar wasn’t the tragedy she made it out to be.
In the end, she’d still have gossip fodder courtesy of the men she’d left behind.
But the truth was that she had loyal de Wolfe soldiers with her and they, too, would report to Ronan on her activities on the road as well.
Such was the game she and Ronan had played for ten years although, admittedly, it was far more her game than it was his.
With her lady’s coaxing, she slid off her palfrey and stiffly walked into the inn.
The sun hadn’t even set yet but she was exhausted and wanted to stop for the night.
She wasn’t the best traveler which meant the trip to London was going to take several weeks.
Her ladies led her inside, pushing aside anyone who came close to her, and took her into a short corridor.
The last door on the left opened wide to reveal a large, comfortable chamber and a bath that was already being filled with hot water.
Marian entered the chamber and went to sit on the only chair, planting herself wearily as servants rushed in and out, filling the old copper tub about half-full.
One of her ladies quit the chamber while the other one, The Bull as Marian sometimes called her, hovered over the servants and slapped one on the back of the head when she wasn’t moving fast enough.
The slap was like music to Marian’s ears.
Once the servants were humiliated and finally pushed from the chamber, Marian settled down to enjoy her bath, which she lingered in until the water was cold.
She’d been oiled and scraped and scrubbed until her skin was red and, finally, The Bull pulled her out of the bath and dried her off completely.
As the sun began to set, Marian dressed in a warm shift and an incredibly expensive robe of brocade and ermine, something her father had given her and cost as much as a normal man made in a year.
It traveled everywhere with her. Settling back to a supper of bread, stewed fruit, and a fish pie, she hadn’t taken two bites when there was a loud knock at her door.
The Bull opened it.
The first thing Marian saw was her second lady, wearing a traveling cloak and looking exhausted. The second thing she saw was Gaspard.
The fish pie ended up on the floor.
“Gaspard!” she gasped as the young knight rushed into the chamber and went to his knees beside her. “How did this happen? How did you know I was here?”
Gaspard had her hands within his, kissing them gratefully. “Before I left Ravenscar, I told your maid that I would be nearby,” he said. “I told her to send me word when you were alone so that I could return to you. But now I find you here!”
“But how –?”
“I told her where to find me,” he said, cutting her off. “A little village not far from here. She came to fetch me and told me that you have been exiled.”
Marian squeezed his hands before throwing her arms around him, very glad to see him, indeed.
“I have,” she said. “My husband is a horrible and cruel man. I have told you this. He shows me no love or affection. You are the first man who has shown me such things, my darling, and I cannot be separated from you. I am so glad you waited for me.”
Gaspard returned her feverish kisses, completely seduced by her lies. “He does not deserve you,” he said. “I do not care if the man is a de Wolfe. He has no right to treat you so terribly.”
Marian kissed him deeply. She needed a man to be chivalrous to her, to treat her as if she were the most important thing in the world.
She always needed that. Since she’d met Gaspard at Middlesbrough, he’d done a good job of that and she’d done a good job of convincing him that she had a neglectful husband.
That would go on until she grew bored with him.
Such was the usual pattern.
“He has always been cruel to me,” she said. “My father forced me to marry him and I did not want to. You have seen how he ignores me and discards me. I must have love, my darling, that only you can give me.”
Gaspard pulled back, his dark eyes glittering at her as his big hands cupped her face. “I will only, and always, give my love to you,” he said. “You have it forever if you want it.”
Marian almost replied but it occurred to her that her women were still in the room, over by the door that was shut. They were pretending to listen for anything outside of the door, but Marian knew differently. She knew they were listening to every word said.
“You two,” she snapped at them. “Out. Do not return until morning.”
The women fled, slamming the door in their wake. Only then did Marian return her focus to Gaspard, running her fingers through his dark hair, her features soft with passion.
“My life is full of tragedy,” she said. “A cruel husband, a cruel family. I need you, Gaspard. I am going to London and you must come with me. Will you come?”
Gaspard nodded. “Of course I will,” he said. “But where is your husband?”
Marian lifted an unhappy eyebrow. “At Ravenscar,” she said. “He will be there for some time to come because of the Widow de Brito. I… I am certain that is why he sent me away, because he wishes to have her all to himself. He has always been so cruel to me, Gaspard.”
“I know, ma douce.”
“That is why you must not leave me.”
Gaspard had no intention of leaving her.
In fact, he’d found what he’d been looking for since he arrived in England three years ago – a wealthy married woman with an inattentive husband, a woman who was looking for a man to lavish money and attention on.
As long as her husband remained aloof to her activities, Gaspard figured he was safe.
He wasn’t a fool – he knew who the House of de Wolfe was and he knew the House of de Grey.
He knew they were both wildly wealthy and important, so to find a neglected de Wolfe wife was perfect for a man like him.
All of the benefits without any of the responsibilities.
But there was a little more to it in his case.
He was greedy.
“I will never leave you, I swear,” he said. “In fact, your husband is so terrible that I shall challenge him. I will punish him for what he has done to you. Would that make you happy?”
Marian’s expression went from one of passion to one of surprise. “Punish?” she said haltingly. “But… but my husband is a de Wolfe. Have you seen how big he is?”
“I have.”
“He will tear you limb from limb!”
Gaspard stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “Then mayhap I should simply do away with him,” he said. “His holdings, his estate, his money… everything would be yours and you can live where you please and do whatever you please. Your husband will never be cruel to you again.”
Marian’s eyes were wide when she realized what he meant. “You would kill him?”
“If you wish it.”
Marian had never even thought about that. Ronan had his life, she had hers, and they never crossed paths. As long as that was the case, she was content to let him go about his business, but now, Gaspard had her thinking.
A world without Ronan would indeed be a world of unlimited wealth and lovers with no husband to complain to her father behind her back.
Not that Ronan had, but her father would be less disapproving of her affairs if she weren’t married.
Oh, he knew about them but, much like Ronan, he simply looked the other way.
But if Ronan were dead, she could do anything she pleased without the baggage of a husband.
Perhaps she might even marry someone she actually wanted to marry.
Not that she wished Ronan dead, because she didn’t, but if he was gone…
Certainly, it was something to consider.
“I will think on it,” she said after a moment, pulling him closer. “Meanwhile, you will travel to London with me and we shall have all the time in the world to consider what to do about my husband.”
Gaspard could already feel himself growing hard as he swooped in on her, suckling her lips. “Anything you wish, ma douce,” he said. “I am yours to command.”
Marian liked the sound of that.
*