Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Oscar’s smug, suspicious expression shifted into one of disbelief. It was an unusual expression for him, one that suggested he’d genuinely been caught off guard by Ophelia’s statement.
“What…?” he sputtered. “What is this nonsense you spout?”
Ophelia had never known her grandfather to be anything other than haughty and calm. It was a distinct pleasure to see that she’d unbalanced him, which made her feel a little braver about the situation.
“It is not nonsense and you know it,” she said.
“You were sending a missive to Henry that was allegedly from Louis of France, thanking Blackchurch for their help in Louis’ Gascon war.
You knew what Henry would do when he read such a thing.
You knew he would destroy Blackchurch, and that is what you intended. ”
Oscar was still in a state of shock, struggling with his composure. “This… this is madness,” he said. “Where did you hear this?”
He was being defensive, a sure admission of guilt as far as Ophelia was concerned.
“St. Denis has the missive,” she said. “It was brought to him. The messenger who possessed it said that the missive had come from the Earl of Sidbury. You forged a dispatch from the French king in an attempt to discredit Blackchurch. They are certain it has something to do with the pirate attack on Sidmouth, so in some way, you are trying to exact revenge on those pirates by destroying Blackchurch. Do you deny this?”
Oscar was still off guard, still trying to think clearly in the situation. “Did your husband send you here?” he asked, avoiding her question. “Is that why you have come? To ask questions because he is too much of a coward to do so?”
Ophelia shook her head. “He did not tell me to come,” she said.
“I came of my own accord because I am ashamed. Ashamed I am related to someone as underhanded as you. Tell me something, Oscar—why do you think destroying Blackchurch is going to give you a sense of satisfaction against the pirate attack? Is it because you think you are God and you want to show those pirates how badly you can hurt them if you want to? Or is it because you’re the spiteful, malicious bastard you’ve always been and you cannot stand when someone is stronger than you in every way? Which is it?”
Perhaps her last words to him were a little too much.
A little too bold. She’d spat them out faster than she could actually think about what she was saying because, for once in her life, she was speaking her mind.
She was standing up to him and it felt glorious.
But once the words had left her lips, Ophelia could see the expression of disbelief on Oscar’s face turn to rage.
A storm was brewing behind his dark eyes as he reached out, grabbing Randa by the arm.
“Get out,” he spat at her. “Get out now.”
Randa nearly tripped over the bench as he yanked on her.
As fearful as she was of her father, she was more fearful of his anger being directed toward her daughter at the moment.
Ophelia had revealed the reason for her visit with blunt force, and now it was out in the open. Oscar had been hammered with it.
And so had Randa.
Terror swept her.
“Lia,” she gasped as she stepped over the bench and tried not to fall. “Go to my chamber, lass, and wait for me. I must speak with your grandfather!”
“Nay,” Oscar snapped, yanking Randa so hard that she finally lost her balance and fell to her knees. “I gave you an order, woman. Get out!”
“No one is going anywhere,” Ophelia said as she watched Oscar manhandle her mother. “Then it is true, isn’t it? If it were not true, you would not have such a reaction. You are trying to destroy Blackchurch!”
Oscar was torn between Randa’s clumsiness and his granddaughter’s boldness. He wanted Randa out so he could wrap his hands around Ophelia’s throat without a witness, but Randa wasn’t leaving. She was wallowing on the ground, imagining she was hurt.
The woman always had been a weakling.
“What I do is none of your affair,” he growled. “You would do well to shut your mouth this instant or face my wrath.”
Ophelia could hear the danger in his voice.
Dark, murky, terrifying danger. Stricken with a sense of self-protection, she stood up and moved away from the table, in the direction of the hearth.
She no longer had Creston’s lovely dagger, so she grabbed the only weapon she could get her hands on.
A sharp, heavy fire poker ended up in her grip and she was fully prepared to defend herself with it.
“I will not shut my mouth,” she said steadily.
“I came to tell you that Blackchurch knows of your plot. You have been discovered. I, therefore, have the satisfaction of looking you in the eye and telling you that the people at Blackchurch are my friends and I will not allow you to destroy them. The man you betrothed me to is the most wonderful, loving man I’ve ever had the good fortune to know.
I have a life there, a beautiful world, which is something you did not expect.
I am certain that once I was married, you never gave me another thought.
I could have been beaten to death by my new husband, or starved, and you would not have cared, but the reality is this—you did me a favor when you married me to Creston de Royans.
For that fact alone, I am doing you a favor by telling you the truth.
I am giving you the chance to cease your behavior and plead forgiveness.
If you do not, then Blackchurch will deal with you. And they will kill you.”
Oscar stared at her. He still had Randa in his grip, but he shoved her down again just as she was trying to get to her feet. The contempt in his expression as he moved toward Ophelia was blatant.
“The Great Beauty of Dorset has found her courage at last,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“It is a pity that courage is misplaced. You spout threats and accusations and believe you will emerge unscathed, but you have taken this a step too far, Ophelia de Camville. You have threatened me and I have a right to defend myself against threats.”
That wasn’t the reaction Ophelia was expecting. She had expected some sort of discussion, confession. An argument, even. Anything but the impending disaster she was sensing.
The fire poker went up.
“Come no closer,” she said sternly. “I will not hesitate to use this if you do. Kill me and my husband will make sure your death is as painful as possible. He will take great pleasure in it.”
Oscar came to a halt, but it was only temporary. He looked her over, top to bottom, ripples of disgust moving across his features.
“Brave, brave Ophelia,” he said mockingly. “Ophelia with a bastard in her belly. When the child is born, if the child is born, I hope de Royans discovers that it is not his and steps on its head. You deserve nothing less for your shameful behavior.”
Ophelia smiled thinly. “He knows the child is not his,” she said. “I told him before we were married.”
That brought pause to Oscar. “Is that so?” he said, surprised. “And he still married you?”
“He did.”
Oscar shook his head. “Then he is a bigger fool than I thought.”
“Untrue. He just wants your earldom.”
She made it sound like Creston was greedy because she knew that would upset her grandfather. She wanted him to know that he wasn’t able to slip something past Creston because, in the end, the earldom was more valuable than anything Oscar could do to trick him.
She wanted him to know that Creston fought dirty, too.
“I see,” Oscar said in a tone that suggested her barb had hit its mark. “If that is true, then I feel obligated to tell you that I will simply marry again and have sons. If de Royans married you just for the earldom, he is to be sorely disappointed.”
It was becoming like a chess match between them. She would make one move and he would make another, each trying to outsmart the other. But Ophelia wasn’t going to let the man gain the upper hand.
“He will not be disappointed,” she said. “Even if you marry again, you’ve proven that you can only produce female children. Moreover, what father is going to allow his daughter to marry you? You are no prize, Oscar, even with the earldom.”
It was a gibe at his ego, and it was a direct hit. He stiffened, eyeing her with great hostility. Perhaps he was just a little surprised that his usually obedient granddaughter was taking a stand.
He didn’t like it in the least.
“Mayhap,” he said casually. “But, then again, neither were you. Let me explain something to you, Ophelia—you may as well know that your betrothal to de Royans was part of the greater plan. If anyone is to blame for what Blackchurch is facing, it should be you. You did this to them.”
“And how is that?”
“Because you were the key,” he said. “I’d been trying to find a way to seek vengeance on the pirates who attacked Sidmouth for quite some time when I remembered we had a distant relation through your grandmother who served at Blackchurch.
At least, I thought I’d heard that, so I wrote to Royston de Royans to inquire about his brother’s marital status, and when I was told he was unmarried, the path became clear.
You were to marry into Blackchurch and be the beginning of their end.
And if you are wondering about Royston’s role in all of this, he knew about my plan. ”
Ophelia wasn’t particularly surprised to hear about Royston, since he and Creston were never close, but more than that, she was starting to see what Oscar meant about the implementation of his scheme.
That dark, twisted scheme.
“But Blackchurch was not the group who burned your town,” she said. “Why would you punish them?”