Chapter Twenty-Two #6
De Tormo shook his head, backing away to the door. “I cannot give it in good conscience. From what I have seen, Lady Remington would be much better off with de Russe. You, my lord, are a lunatic.”
Fortunately for de Tormo that he was near the door. Guy flew over the table with such speed and grace that the priest had no time to react at all before he was being slammed into the wall.
“I shall not let her go,” Guy seethed quietly. “She is my wife, and I shall not let her go.”
The door jerked open and there were suddenly soldiers pulling Guy off de Tormo. The priest scrambled through the door, watching Stoneley shirk his accosters.
He had to find Gaston.
*
De Tormo was pale by the time he reached Gaston’s rooms. Gaston was concerned.
“What happened?” he demanded.
De Tormo reached a shaky hand for the wine decanter. Gaston saw the man’s hands and poured the drink himself.
“He’s mad,” the priest finally said.
Gaston tried to remain calm. He folded his arms slowly and waited until de Tormo had imbibed several fortifying gulps. “That, priest, has already been established. I take it that he did not receive the news well.”
De Tormo snorted and sank into the nearest chair. “Hardly. He believes that Henry is behind this annulment, planning to reward you with Remington and Mt. Holyoak as the spoils of war. He cannot comprehend that love has anything to do with this.”
Gaston took a slow, deep breath, forming his thoughts. “’Tis probably what it seems to him.”
De Tormo looked at him pointedly. “He shall not cooperate with you in the least, Gaston. He does not want to let Remington go.”
Gaston knew that. Now that his suspicions were confirmed, he could better formulate a plan of action. “Then I will go and see him. Mayhap he will listen to… reason.”
The priest waved him away. “You’d better not. Knowing you, Stoneley will not live to see the sun set and you would be charged with his murder. The church would never grant you an annulment in that case.”
“I shall remain completely in control,” Gaston insisted, but even he did not believe it. To actually face the man who had caused Remington so much pain would drive him over the brink.
De Tormo shook his head again. “Do not see him alone. Take de Vere with you, if for no other reason, as a witness. Stoneley is clever enough that he would beat himself senseless after your visit and then say that you did it,” he lowered his gaze.
“He…he unsettles me, Gaston. He is not only utterly evil; he is as smart as the devil, too. I received the impression that he would do anything in his power to keep this annulment from going through.”
Gaston’s gaze was hard. “’Twill not be enough. I will triumph in the end, no matter what he says or does.”
De Tormo stared at him a moment longer, the wine settling his nerves.
“I concur with your requests that Remington stay away from him, although the point is mute now. He spoke of her most unfavorably and, coming to know the lady as I have, even I was offended,” he sat back in the chair, wearily.
“If my meeting with him is any indication, then you must maintain iron control when you supervise his meeting with her. I have a feeling he will try and provoke you, anything to use against you.”
Gaston wasn’t looking at the priest. He seemed to be staring at the floor, his boots, his leather vest. He slowly fumbled with the fold of his vest before removing a long, narrow dagger.
It was a wicked looking thing. De Tormo watched with curiosity as he fingered it smoothly, all the while seeming to think on other things.
Suddenly, the dagger went sailing. In a fine, straight line as true as time, it landed with deadly accuracy into a large wall tapestry.
De Tormo’s head snapped with surprise, overwhelmed with the speed and force in which the blade was tossed.
It took him a moment to see that the dagger had pierced the figure of a man, pinning the tapestry to the wall.
Upon closer scrutiny, the razor-sharp point of the dagger penetrated the head of the man, dead center, in the eye.
With a slow sigh, de Tormo faced Gaston again. “Well done. Take your aggressions out on the furnishings, but not on Stoneley. Not yet, anyway. ’Tis far too early in the game to create more problems than you already have.”
Gaston did not answer him for, in truth, he did not trust himself to speak. Anger and hatred toward Stoneley was growing by the minute.
“I promised Henry I would collect Remington,” he murmured, moving for the door but not bothering to retrieve his blade. “We are supping with he and Elizabeth this eve, alone. Mayhap you can use the time to recover from your meeting with Stoneley.”
De Tormo lifted an ironic eyebrow. “I fear I might have to go to Westminster and have myself exorcised. I feel as if I have tangled with the devil.”
Gaston paused abruptly at the door. “You are wrong on that account. By tonight, Guy Stoneley will have met the devil face to face. They do not call me the Dark One for frivolous reasons.”