Chapter Eighteen #2
Lance growled again, coming closer as if to accost her. Summer lashed out a foot and caught him in the shin, turning his growls to howls. As he grabbed his leg and collapsed on the bed in agony, she stood over him threateningly.
“T-There is no time for your foolishness, Lance,” she scolded, joined by Genisa’s disapproving support. “Why are you not with Bose?”
Lance rubbed his bruised bone. “I was,” he groaned, his voice was muffled through the tanned leather. “I was with him all night, listening to his sickening tales of your wedding. For truth, I had to leave or become ill.”
Summer pinched him and he yelped, holding his wounded arm as well as his assaulted leg. “God’s Blood, Summer, cease your abuse. Your husband is safe and sound with Morgan to keep him company.”
Her furrowed brow seemed to relax somewhat. “Morgan took your place with him?”
The pig mask nodded. “And I came to cheer you up. But it’s not cheer you need, I see, but a spanking.”
Summer’s irritation with her brother fled; the man had spent all night in the vault with Bose, still, he was thinking of his sister in his childish attempts to ease her suffering. Truthfully, only Lance was capable of such foolish, tender gestures and she smiled, rubbing the flesh she had pinched.
“I am sorry,” she murmured. “Was I terribly brutal?”
“Terribly,” Lance pushed himself off the bed, continuing to massage his leg. “But I shall forgive you, considering the hell you have been through for the past few days.”
Summer reached up, dislodging the pig mask so she could gaze into the eyes of her high-spirited brother. After a brief pause, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
“T-Thank you, Lance,” she whispered. “For remaining with Bose in the vault. And for the pig mask. Both mean a great deal to me.”
He grinned, pinching her chin lightly. “My pleasure, Lady de Moray,” it was as close as he could come to a truly affectionate response without risking embarrassment. Glancing at Genisa’s smiling face, he scratched his head wearily and moved for the door, his actions suddenly laced with fatigue.
“I suppose I should grab a bit of sleep,” he mumbled, grasping the iron door latch. Casting a long glance at the two ladies, he gestured to the pig mask. “The next time I wear this, I shall not allow either of you to escape so easily.”
Summer’s expression was quite serious. “And I’ll tell B-Bose if your threats are sincere. He shall protect me.”
Genisa crossed her arms with equal resolve. “As Stephan will protect me. Your days of masking are over, Lance.”
Although their threats dampened his enthusiasm substantially, the stubborn young lad in him refused to give in so easily.
In spite of the circumstances clouding Chaldon, at this moment, the interaction between the youngest du Bonne brother and his two usual victims had never seemed more typical or more hopeful.
“Never!” he laughed wickedly as he fled down the corridor.
Summer could not keep from smiling. He had come to cheer her up and he had accomplished his goal.
*
“I w-want to see my husband. You have no valid right to deny my request.”
Seated before her father in the peach-colored surcoat, Summer was very controlled.
Stephan, his face shadowed with a heavy carpet of stubble, stood slightly behind his sister in powerful support of her request and Ian, his blue eyes dulled with fatigue and lack of sleep, stood to her immediate left.
“The man who married you is a prisoner, Summer,” Edward’s voice was weak, his face pale and his lips an odd shade of blue. “He is denied the right of visitors.”
“Why? L-Lance was with him all night. Why cannot I see him?”
Edward sighed, refusing to look at either Stephan or Ian as he squirmed restlessly in his chair.
They’d been through this particular subject all night and Edward was coming to regret the very day he allowed Breck Kerry and Margot de Ville into his chambers.
Since that moment, nothing had gone as planned.
“Lance was protecting your… husband from possible assassination by loyalist extremes from both sides,” he replied weakly. “His presence was necessary.”
Before Summer could reply, Ian cast his father a disbelieving look. “Lance spent the night with Bose to prevent Kerry’s men from abusing him. Summer’s husband has nothing to fear from the du Bonne soldiers.”
“There is much tension and strife within the walls of Chaldon, not merely within the House of Kerry,” Margot’s voice was thin but firm. “Sir Bose is greatly at risk until his trial can be completed and justice is served.”
Summer focused on the frail, bird-like woman seated slightly behind her father.
Her golden eyes drew in the sight of the woman who had commenced four years ago with her sinister gossip in the hopes of destroying her grieving son-in-law.
The longer Summer gazed upon the lady, the more her hatred for the woman grew.
“Lady Margot,” she began evenly. “My request and conversation is directed at my father and I would ask that you refrain from entering this c-conversation. This is a family matter and your opinion is not invited.”
Margot’s expression held steady. “Instead of exhibiting your rude behavior, you should be thanking me for saving your life. I more than anyone is aware of Bose de Moray’s murderous capabilities and it is by the grace of God that Breck intercepted your husband before he could seal you within Ravendark’s impenetrable halls. ”
Summer stared at her, looking beyond the wrinkled, polished exterior, attempting to read the motives beneath. After a moment, she shook her head in a slow, puzzled gesture.
“Why are you d-doing this?” she whispered, experiencing a genuine need to know.
“Why are you involving yourself in affairs that do not concern you? I am well aware of the rumors regarding Bose and I am well aware that they are fabrications. If I choose to marry this man, then it should be of little difference to you w-whether I live or die at his hands. It is my choice, lady; certainly not yours.”
Margot rose from her chair. “It may not be my choice, but Bose de Moray had always been my concern. When you involved yourself with him, you became my affair as well.”
“I do not want you involved. I want you to leave us alone.”
“’Tis not your choice to make,” Margot cast a glance at Edward. “Your father knows what is best for you and he has given his decision. As a respectful daughter, you should have obeyed his wishes.”
“As your respectful daughter always obeyed you?”
It was an intentional jab to unsteady her confident manner. Margot looked to Summer once again, her thin lips pressing into a tight flat line. “My daughter was the pinnacle of female strengths and perfection, Lady Summer. Unflawed, as you are.”
Summer could see the pure venom in the woman’s eyes. But she could also see that her mention of Lora had struck a chord deep within the embittered woman’s heart and she sought to pursue the subject.
She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Tell me, my lady; did your d-daughter love Bose?”
Margot’s eyes narrowed, struggling not to appear too off-guard by the question. “That is none of your affair.”
“When Bose became my husband, his relationship with his dead wife indeed became my affair. Now answer me; did she love him?”
Margot stiffened, drawing in a deep, steadying breath; all eyes were upon her and she was well aware that her calm conduct was necessary.
Her answer, when it came moments later, was quiet. “She did.”
Summer cocked an eyebrow, feeling as if she were gaining headway somehow. She intended to make a point.
“T-Then would it be fair to ask that if she was indeed as perfect in mind and deeds as you profess, would she have approved of your hostile attitude toward her beloved husband?”
Margot struggled to remain collected, but with every successive moment her composure successively cracked. Stephan watched, Ian watched, Breck and Edward watched intently as the elderly woman downed a small chalice of wine before calmly answering.
“She would applaud my efforts to vindicate her death.”
Summer watched the lady pour another swallow of wine into the glass goblet. “At the expense of the man she loved?”
Margot dropped the chalice half-way to her lips; the burgundy liquid erupted onto the wall, the floor, as the pewter bounced along the stone. Laboring to control her emotion, Margot faced her son-in-law’s new wife.
“You know nothing of the situation,” she hissed. “Certainly you see the circumstance as Bose has explained it, not how it truly exists. And your foolish questions allude to your naive understanding of the situation.”
Summer refused to back down, not when the lady was growing increasingly agitated. If she were going to accomplish anything, she had to strive onward.
“V-Very well, then,” Summer was in control. “Allow me to accept your explanation of events, assuming for a moment that Bose did indeed murder your daughter. Can you tell me, exactly, how he accomplished this task?”
Margot ceased to breathe for a moment, off-balanced by the calm question. Summer lifted her eyebrows questioningly when there was no immediate response.
“How, my lady? How did she die? D-Did he strangle her, stab her?”
“Nay.”
“Did he beat her?”
“Nay.”
Summer observed the woman closely, her thin lips pale and dry as she struggled to maintain her bold, aggressive gaze.
“Of course he did not,” her voice was suddenly quiet-toned.
“He loved her. He loved her enough to give her a son, which she died attempting to bring into this world. B-Bose did not murder Lora for profit or thrill. He was an innocent victim of her death, just as she and the son she carried were also hapless casualties. But you, unable to understand the will of God, found the need to fault him simply because there was no one else to blame. And in your grief, you attempted to destroy him. Just as Lora’s death destroyed you. ”