Chapter Twelve
Peyton slept through Ivy’s departure, through Brian’s raging, through Nigel’s furious protests.
Celine, exhausted with the death of her grandson, had taken to her bed ill and was unable to deal with the angry men wreaking havoc in her solar.
Only Thia was left to weather the storm by her father’s side, gravely concerned for his color and wondering when their peaceful life at Blackstone careened so terribly out of control.
However, it was not difficult to isolate the catalyst.
Lady Peyton Summerlin slept soundly as a violent confrontation shook the very walls of Blackstone.
Nigel against Brian, curses and shouted words, pleas for understanding and patience; she was completely unaware that she had been the window through which the Devil had entered to do his work.
She dreamt once, of Alec, but when she tried to touch him he had vanished.
After that, her slumber had been dreamless.
Thankfully, no nightmares of dead babies plagued her.
She was further oblivious to Thia Summerlin’s dark thoughts of her, the hatred building within the soul of the woman.
Thia had been indifferent to Peyton after their confrontation, and she surprisingly thought she might grow to tolerate the woman who stood against her so admirably in a verbal conflict.
But listening to her father’s exhausted, angry voice and watching Nigel Warrington spew threats, she knew at that moment that she could never tolerate such a disruptive force within the walls of Blackstone.
Everything had been so right before she came.
She was beautiful, though not Thia’s usual taste.
Her taste ran to young serving girls and nubile villeins she could convince to join her in same-sex frolics.
No one knew of her strange lusts, the carnal improprieties that she indulged in.
Her parents simply thought she hated men because she was afraid of them, and she would allow them to believe what they would.
Marrying a member of the opposite sex did, indeed, frighten her. She wanted no part of it.
What she wanted most at this moment, however, was to be rid of her brother’s wife.
She could deduce from the conversation that Lady Peyton had been the primary objective, and that Lady Ivy had come in second.
Thia watched impassively as Nigel spitefully broke a rare Grecian artifact her father had collected in Athens; if there was some way to deliver the Warringtons what they so apparently desired, two problems would be solved quite nicely.
Blackstone would return to normal and the Warringtons would have the bitch. All would be well again.
If there was only a way.
*
Peyton awoke to Alec’s pale face. The room was dark but for a small fire in the hearth to ward off the cool dampness and she immediately sat up, rubbing her eyes. He smiled weakly at her.
“It’s nearly time for supper, love,” he said softly.
She gazed at him sleepily, Jubil’s potion still working. Absently, she touched Alec’s cheek and looked about the room. “Good Lord, how long have I been asleep?”
He covered her hand as it touched his face with his warm palm. “Several hours. How do you feel?”
“Tired,” she yawned. “I feel as if I could sleep for days.”
“Eat first. We will retire early tonight, I promise.”
She nodded and yawned again, noticing for the first time how drawn and tired Alec appeared. He helped her from the bed silently, none of the usual warmth in his expression. In fact, he seemed unusually withdrawn.
“What’s wrong, darling? You are quiet.”
He glanced at her, preparing to evade her question but thinking better of it. She would find out soon enough and it was unfair not to prepare her for what was to come. He motioned her to sit at the vanity, and as she picked up her horsehair brush he spoke.
“My father reconsidered his position on the marriage of Ali and Ivy. ’Twould seem that Nigel Warrington was able to convince him that a marriage between Ivy and Colin would be most beneficial for Ivy’s sake, and my father agreed.”
The horsehair brush clattered to the ground in mid-stroke and Peyton bolted from the bench. “No, Alec! She cannot!”
He put his hand on her arms soothingly. “I know, love, I know,” he said patiently. “This is why I spirited your sister out of Blackstone and delivered her to Ali not two hours ago. They should already be married by now.”
In his grasp, Peyton relaxed so violently that she nearly collapsed and Alec crushed her against his hard chest. “Oh, Alec,” she breathed. “Why has this happened? Why did your father change his mind again?”
“I do not know,” he admitted honestly, caressing her. “But I knew that I could not allow the marriage to take place. Needless to say, my father is livid.”
She looked at him, her eyes soft. “Did you tell him what you did?”
“He guessed; the man is no fool, especially after our elopement. Furthermore, the Warringtons are outraged and the mood in general is strained.”
Peyton gazed at him a moment, moving to stroke his stubbled cheek. “You did this for me.”
He met her gaze, blue on blue. “And for Ali and Ivy. How presumptuous of you to imagine that I would risk my hide for you alone.”
She grinned and kissed his cheek sweetly. “Thank you, my Alec. From the bottom of my heart.”
He kissed her palm and released her, moving for the pewter ale pitcher near the window sill.
She continued to watch his movements, those of a man with a good deal on his mind, and she was grateful that he would risk himself for the sake of her and her sister.
She was only just becoming to realize the depths of the man she had married and furthermore realizing just how fortunate she was.
A man she had sworn to hate, once. A man she could never hate.
“Where are Ali and Ivy now?” she asked softly.
“Truthfully, I do not know. I told them to stay out of sight for several weeks and then contact me at St. Cloven. If I know Ali, he shall most likely sail to France and wait there.”
“Why?”
“To get Ivy out of England,” he turned to her, cup in hand.
“Since their marriage will only be considered common law, it is imperative that he remove her from the country until the situation stabilizes. Technically, the Warringtons can claim Ivy as stolen property and Ali could be thrown in the vault as a thief.”
Peyton gasped, her eyes wide. “They would not!”
He smiled wryly. “From the noise going on in the great hall, I would not be surprised if the Warringtons declared war on all of us. They’re righteously outraged, as is my father, and all of the anger is directed at me.”
Peyton digested his words, turning away and feeling a good amount of guilt.
She knew Alec had acted on her behalf no matter what he said.
Aye, she was equally to share in the blame and she knew it.
The most logical solution would be to return to St. Cloven immediately and remain until the climate cooled.
“Then we should leave for home right away,” she said softly. “The sooner you are removed, the sooner tempers can ease.”
He nodded. “You are right, of course. But I hesitate abandoning my family after what I have caused and after the death of the babe….” he suddenly looked at his wife, troubled by his tactless slip.
He saw her brow furrow with sadness and gently sought to ease her.
“I am sorry you had to be witness to a most distressing event, sweetheart. If there is anything I can do….”
“My mother bore three dead children after Ivy and I were born, all male,” she said, swallowing the tightness in her throat. “’Tis not a strange occurrence.”
She was trying to be brave and he respected her determination, unwilling to weaken it by extending more apologies. He felt bad enough for his dead nephew, but such was the way of things sometimes. He drained his cup and set it down with a resounding clang.
“Did my mother say anything about our marriage?”
She shook her head, swallowing her sorrow. “Not a word. In fact, she was exceedingly sweet to me. She even kissed me.”
He smiled faintly, knowing that his mother supported their marriage even if her husband at this moment was most likely wishing he had never heard of Lady Peyton de Fluornoy.
Pleased with her show of acceptance towards his new wife, a bright spot in an otherwise hellish afternoon, he sighed and put his hands on his hips.
“If we are leaving for home tonight, we must pack. I shall see about locating Jubil and return her to help you load your bags.”
“Where is she?” Peyton asked.
“With Toby, somewhere,” Alec snorted softly. “He seems fascinated by her, convinced she’s a great sorceress.”
Peyton rolled her eyes to let him know just what she thought of her aunt’s powers. “Do not let him believe that. She is a mere woman, knowledgeable in herbs and potions, but it does not go beyond that.”
“She believes she is a witch,” Alec said with a faint grin.
Peyton shook her head, removing a satchel from the wardrobe. “Did she tell you that? Did she also tell you that she is Athena, Goddess of Wisdom? Or her more recent claim is that she is the deity Cybele, the asexual dominate.”
His eyebrows rose as he watched her pack, feeling himself calming with the ale in his veins. “Christ, where did she hear about Cybele?”
“Jubil is an intelligent woman, well-read thanks to my father’s library.
Sometimes, during her trances, she claims she is Cybele and that she is in need of claiming a lover,” Peyton shook her head with disgust. “What we have yet to figure out is if she means a male or female lover. In myth, Cybele possessed both female and male genitalia.”
“Until she cut off her male organ and became female,” Alec finished, remembering his ancient Greek mythology. “And, as I recall, she gained a male lover, became insanely jealous and in turn drove her lover mad. He then castrated himself and died.”