Chapter Seventeen #3
He was effectively shutting the conversation down as he forcibly escorted Lady Sabine to the door. Her daughter trailed along behind. But Lady Sabine would not be cut off so easily.
“I will, of course,” she said. Then, she grabbed at her daughter, pulling her forward. “Daphne is home from fostering at Portchester Castle. I do not believe you have seen my daughter for many years.”
Brandt paused as they neared the hall entry, facing the round and pale young woman.
She was even uglier at close range. “Lady Daphne,” he greeted with forced politeness.
Then he looked at Lady Sabine. “Considering I have only seen you four or five times in my adult life, I will admit that I have only met your daughter once. She was very young, as I recall.”
Lady Sabine looked at her daughter with a beseeching expression that she was trying very hard to mask. Say something, you silly girl! Fortunately, Daphne received her mother’s silent plea and cleared her throat nervously.
“I was ten or eleven years of age, my lord,” Daphne said, her voice thin and weak. “Did you enjoy your time in France?”
Brandt could see through the paper-thin attempt to keep the conversation going and it was a genuine struggle not to rudely chase them away.
“I was at war, my lady,” he said frankly. “I do not consider that an enjoyable time. Now, if you will….”
Daphne cut him off. “How long have you been in France this time?” she asked. “You have been there before on campaigns, have you not?”
Brandt sighed impatiently. He couldn’t help it.
“I have been there almost three years,” he said with increasing annoyance.
“Before that, I was in France on two separate campaigns, each one lasting nearly four years. During that time, I have spent no more than a year in England intermittently. All of my focus is on Edward and his desire to claim what is rightfully his. Now, if you ladies will excuse….”
“Perhaps you will come and visit us at Albury before you depart for France,” Daphne said, clumsily interrupting him again. “My father would like to see you and we would have a great feast in your honor.”
“Although I appreciate the offer, you will understand if I decline,” Brandt said, moving them through the front door and out into the mid-morning sun. “I have a great many things to accomplish and do not have time for social events.”
Daphne’s hopeful expression dampened. “I am sorry to know that,” she said sincerely. “I was hoping… well, perhaps you will allow me to return to Guildford and play for you. I am most accomplished on the harp and I would consider it an honor to play for you.”
Brandt eyed the woman. Now he was coming to understand the purpose of their visit and it had nothing to do with welcoming him back to England.
He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him before now.
Lady de Ferrers was on a husband hunt for her daughter and evidently thought the duke would be easy prey now that he was newly returned from the wars in France.
He quickly sought to make his position very clear.
“Although your offer is gracious, I will have to ask my wife if she would be agreeable to such entertainment,” he said. “I will send for you if she has an inclination to listen.”
Both Lady Sabine and Lady Daphne appeared shocked. “Your wife?” Lady Sabine repeated, incredulous. “You… you are married?”
Brandt nodded. “Indeed I am,” he said, rather pleased at their expressions. “Now, you will excuse me, ladies. I will bid you a good day.”
With that, he turned away and headed back to the keep.
But he was detained by Dylan, who pulled him into a private conversation somewhere near the smithy shack.
Unfortunately, he was blocked from Ellowyn’s view as she descended the stairs from the keep.
Although she was keeping her eye out for him, she missed him entirely but clearly saw the women standing near the great hall.
They were just standing there, looking rather lost, so Ellowyn made her way towards them.
“Greetings, ladies,” she said pleasantly as she approached. “I am Lady de Russe. I am not sure where my husband is, but I should be happy to entertain you until he can join us.”
Lady Sabine and Lady Daphne looked at Ellowyn with shock, outrage, and curiosity.
It was an odd combination. Lady Sabine seemed the most incensed, shamed by Brandt’s treatment of her and now faced with his glorious wife.
The bitter, petty woman had little control but in the midst of her tantrum, she was also very sly.
If she could create problems, she would.
“He has already joined us,” she snapped. “He was quite rude and… and inappropriate. We are leaving now.”
Although Ellowyn wasn’t surprised that Brandt had been rude, considering his behavior at their first introduction, she didn’t like the way the woman spoke of him. Already, her dander was up.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her pleasant attitude fading. “What did he do?”
“Do?” Lady Sabine repeated, flustered and exaggerated. “My lady, do you know what manner of man your husband is?”
Ellowyn was finished being polite. Already, the conversation had taken a terrible turn and she crossed her arms impatiently.
“I believe that I do,” she said. “If you think to slander him, I would not do it if I were you. You will not like my response.”
Lady Sabine began pointing fingers. “How long have you been married to the man?”
“That is none of your affair.”
Lady Sabine’s eyes widened with indignation.
“He is a man of immoral and lascivious character,” she declared, then dramatically lowered her voice, speaking as if scolding.
“He made inappropriate suggestions to my daughter that would clearly compromise her moral standards. I heard it myself. He asked her to play her harp for him. Alone. What kind of man would do this? If I were you, my lady, I would make all due haste back to your family and away from that… that monster. Being exposed to French whores and immoral women has taken away his sense of propriety.”
By the time she was finished, Ellowyn was looking at the woman in complete shock. Her mouth fell open.
“Are we speaking of the same man?” she asked incredulously.
“We are!”
Ellowyn wasn’t over her shock, but she was fully aware of the fury overtaking her. No one could speak that way of Brandt and get away with it.
“I do not know who you are and I do not care,” she said, her gaze riveted to Lady Sabine.
“Do you seriously think to come to my husband’s home, slander him and call him a monster, and expect me not to defend him?
You are a low-bred, foolish woman to say such things to a man’s wife and I have no doubt you are lying about his proposition to your ugly daughter.
My husband has far better taste than that fat little toad.
Now, you will remove yourself from my sight immediately before I find a switch and beat you both within an inch of your lives. Now, go!”
She was roaring by the time she was finished. Lady Daphne shrieked, grabbing her mother by the hand and yanking her towards their fine carriage.
“Oh!” Lady Sabine gasped as her daughter dragged her along. “How dare you say such things to me! You ill-mannered…!”
She didn’t get the words out fast enough before Ellowyn was hitting her in the mouth with a clod of earth she had scooped up at her feet.
“Get out!” Ellowyn bellowed as she picked up another handful of dank, dirty earth and threw it again, hitting the woman on her pristine-white wimple. “Get out of here, you stupid cow, and take your revolting child with you!”
Lady Sabine and Lady Daphne were running, with Ellowyn following and intermittently stopping to pick up more dirt to toss it.
She had a good aim. She hit them five out of the six times she had thrown.
But they were attracting attention, including Brandt’s, and he turned away from Dylan when he heard the yelling.
He wasn’t particularly astonished to see his wife chasing after Lady Sabine and Lady Daphne, but he was surprised when he saw her snatch a rock from the ground and throw it at Lady Sabine with all her might.
Lady Sabine shrieked when it the rock hit her on the arse.
Both Brandt and Dylan ran towards the women. Brandt intercepted his wife just as she collected another handful of dirt. He grasped her wrist to keep her from pitching it.
“No more,” he said softly, firmly. “What on earth are you doing?”
Ellowyn was mad enough to spit. “That… that image of a woman’s vagina called you a lascivious monster,” she said angrily. “She said you made an indecent proposal to her daughter.”
Brandt had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at her rather vulgar insult.
It was funny as Hell. But he refrained, instead, rolled his eyes in disbelief, turning in time to see Dylan quickly usher the ladies into their carriage.
As Dylan waved the driver on, Brandt forced Ellowyn to open her hand and he scraped the dirt from it.
Then he brushed off the remaining dirt from her hand with the hem of his tunic.
“She is upset because she did not know I was married and had brought her daughter here with the hopes of perhaps making her an attractive marital prospect to me,” he said firmly but gently. “I am sorry that she upset you so.”
Ellowyn was cooling but still unhappy. She frowned at her husband. “Who is she?”
He sighed faintly, putting his arm around her shoulders and turning her for the keep. “Lady Sabine de Ferrers,” he said. “Her husband is one of my vassals.”
Ellowyn shook her head. “I do not care who she is,” she declared. “I will kill her if I see her again for saying such terrible things about you.”