Chapter Eleven #2
“Then why did you offer Lady Ivy in Lady Peyton’s stead if she was already betrothed?” Nigel demanded, a balled fist on his thigh.
Brian blinked slowly in a show of lagging patience. “As I told you, I was unaware that Albert had arranged a marriage contract between Ivy and Ali. The transaction was made through Ali’s father, Olphampa.”
“How long ago?” Nigel insisted.
“I am not sure. It occurred after Ivy lost her innocence to Ali.”
Colin looked at his father, the men exchanging shocked glances.
After a moment, Nigel looked to Brian, considerably less combative.
“Nonetheless, if they are not married, the contract can still be broken. My son, as heir to Wisseyham Keep, carries a far more attractive inheritance than a mere soldier.”
“She carries his child,” Alec chimed in emotionlessly. Lie or not, he would not allow Nigel to negotiate the point.
“Nothing a brew of parsley cannot take care of,” Colin addressed him impassively, his evil eyes bright. “Something I have heard her insane aunt can administer quite well.”
“I will not condone an abortion,” Brian said sharply. “The church frowns upon such action, as you well know. The dissolution of Lady Ivy and Ali’s marriage contract is not up for discussion and I do apologize that you have come a long way to face disappointment.”
Nigel sat very still, pondering Brian on the other side of the desk.
The room itself stilled as the future was mulled over by the four men and Alec began to hope that the meeting with the Warringtons would draw to a relatively bloodless close.
The sooner they were out of Blackstone, the better for all.
“Might I have a word with you alone, my lord?” Nigel asked, almost politely. “Away from our sons’ ears.”
Brian glanced at Alec, who shrugged vaguely.
It was obvious that Brian was seeking Alec’s reassurance that there would be no brawl were the two younger men left alone, and Brian appeared confident that Alec would make no aggressive action, providing Colin was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
Yet it did not go unnoticed by Alec that his father’s pallor had changed to a pasty yellow as he rose stiffly from his desk.
“Outside,” Brian said shortly.
Nigel rose and followed him out into the foyer.
Brian continued into the main dining hall, vacant of servants or soldiers, and indicated for Nigel to take a seat at the end of the long scrubbed table.
Nigel glanced about the room, fresh with rushes and scented with dried herbs in earthenware pots.
Slowly, he perched on the edge of the bench.
Brian refused to look at him, turmoil wrenching his guts. God help him, he knew what was coming and he knew there was nothing he could do against it. Dark secrets were about to be discussed, secrets he attempted to pretend did not exist.
Which was why he avoided the Warringtons at all costs.
Aye, he knew full well of the dispute between Nigel and Albert, and he had heard rumor of the atrocities the Warringtons were accused of committing.
It was difficult not to have heard the accusations, being liege of the barony where the crimes were taking place.
But he had ignored the rumors, tucking the facts far back in his mind and turning an ignorant eye to the heinous acts.
He rationalized his action by convincing himself that if Albert de Fluornoy had not formally asked for his help, then the villeins must be spinning tales to create unrest. Villeins were a stupid lot with an overactive imagination, were they not?
Brian reiterated his reasoning as the years passed until he believed them. He knew he was a coward for not responding to the transgressions, but he simply could not force himself to confront Nigel Warrington. Not when they shared such terrible mysteries.
But now, Nigel was intending to bring forth his darkest nightmare and Brian was sick with it all. Nightmares no one, save Celine, knew.
Nigel saw the man’s face, his ashen pallor, and smiled thinly. “Come now, Brian. I shall not bite.”
Brian’s face was taut. “Get on with it.”
“As you wish. You will break the betrothal between Ali and Lady Ivy and wed the lady to my son. Is that clear enough?”
Brian’s jaw twitched miserably. “I cannot break the contract. It is set and….”
“It is not set. Nothing is set. I do not care if the bitch has been sleeping with the black animal since she was a child, she shall wed Colin.”
“Do not speak of them that way.”
“I shall speak of them however I damn well please. I will consider the marriage to Lady Ivy small compensation for the loss of the heiress to St. Cloven. You sorely push my patience wedding the Lady Peyton to your son, Brian.”
“What’s done is done,” Brian snapped softly. “Alec eloped with the girl, legal and just, and there was naught I could do. They were married in Ely, no less, and nothing short of God can dissolve the union. She is out of your reach, as is the Lady Ivy.”
“Unacceptable. The lady will marry Colin or certain distasteful matters might not remain veiled in secrecy much longer. Do you comprehend my meaning?”
Brian’s brown eyes glared at the man a moment. “Do not threaten me.”
“’Tis certainly no threat, brother.”
“Do not call me that!” Brian hissed viciously. “Do not ever call me that!”
Nigel smiled sinisterly. “The truth hurts, does it not? I am the bastard of your father’s loins. Fitting that my son should reside within your walls, bastard of my loins.”
Brian clenched his teeth. “Your revenge is misplaced and sickening. What you did to Celine….”
“I did nothing but comfort her while her warring husband was away, fighting with Henry,” Nigel said soothingly, mocking the pain in Brian’s heart. “The liaison was of mutual consent, brother. You have known that for twenty-three years and you have no one to blame but yourself for your own neglect.”
“’Twas not neglect,” Brian said, his voice a hollow echo.
“You seduced her, you bastard. You courted her with lies of my infidelity and convinced her that no one but you would take care of her. While I was away warring for our king, you enticed her beyond reason and confused her with sweet words and falsehoods, and when she showed an ounce of refusal toward your onslaught, you raped her.”
Nigel’s eyes glittered like diamonds, cold and sharp. “If you choose to believe those reasons, then that is your choice. But Celine and I know the truth. I suspect Toby will too, someday.”
Brian refused to reply, his jaw grinding as he studied the moldings on the great hearth. Anything to avoid Nigel’s piercing eyes, lest he strike the man down on the spot.
Truthfully, he did not know what measure of control was preventing him from doing so.
Was it the fact that he felt a measure of pity for the man, a bastard of noble breeding, never given the same chances in life as his half-brother?
Brian did not know why he showed so much restraint when it came to Nigel; mayhap he never would understand.
The memory of Celine’s liaison with Nigel, or rape as Brian liked to believe, was like an open wound after all of these years.
A wound that Brian could not bring himself to tend, and it seemed to ache deeper every time he gazed upon the result of that particular encounter.
Toby had no idea the pain he caused Baron Rothwell. Or why.
After several long moments, he spoke. “Why would you seek revenge on me for my father’s indiscretions? What have I ever done to you to warrant your hatred?”
Nigel’s features twisted coldly. “You have done nothing, my lord, except inherit our father’s holdings and titles, deny your blood ties to me, and ignore your relations.”
“And you have done nothing but shame the Summerlin name with your villainous acts and despicable horrors. Why in the hell should I acknowledge you?”
“I do not bear the Summerlin name. I bear the name of the man who raised me, my mother’s husband.”
Brian did not reply for a moment. With a long sigh, he turned from the cold hearth.
“Your mother and my father loved each other, Nigel. My own mother was sickly and cold, and your mother’s husband was a beast of a man.
The fact that our father sought comfort in your mother’s arms was not surprising, and neither is the fact that their relationship resulted in you.
Yet you know full well why my father could not acknowledge you as his own. ”
“Would not, you mean,” Nigel corrected with restrained bitterness. “He already had his heir. What would he do with a bastard son?”
Brian sat heavily opposite Nigel, the table not the only barrier between them. “To acknowledge you would have been to bring great scandal to two noble households, pure and simple. He could not risk it.”
Nigel suddenly brought his fists to bear on the oak table, a loud boom echoing against the vaulted ceiling. “He had to spare his own pride, Brian! He cared not what scandal would ravage the House of Warrington, only the House of Summerlin. He never gave a damn about me, only you.”
Brian gazed at his half-brother, two years younger than himself.
His eyes were guarded, almost sad. They’d had this conversation before, a few times, and it always ended the same way.
Nigel never did understand why William Summerlin refused to acknowledge him as his son, and it cut him deeply.
Therefore, his anger, his hurt, was directed against Brian.
“This is not about the Summerlins or the Warringtons, it’s about Colin’s betrothal,” Brian said softly, refocusing the subject.
“As I said before, I cannot break Lady Ivy’s contract and furthermore, I do not understand why it is so important that I do.
There are several eligible young ladies in the province. ”
Nigel faltered for a brief moment, a peculiar ripple of emotion crossing his features. He did not want any other young ladies for Colin; he wanted a de Fluornoy. He wanted St. Cloven.