The Bride of Windermere Read online

  “The situation is not good, Wolf. No one at the castle remembers seeing Hugh Dryden,” Nicholas said, once they were in the privacy of the duke’s chambers. “But a man answering Hugh’s description was seen in town one week ago. I don’t know where he was prior to that time, but we’ve verified that Hugh set himself up at Prudhomme’s tavern—the man keeps a small inn as well—and spent several nights there. Then he disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Wolf stopped where he stood, disbelieving. “How does a grown man disappear?”

  “Who can say?” Nicholas replied. “All we know is that his packs and horse are still at Prudhomme’s place. And Hugh is no longer there. It’s been three days now.”

  “And what of Philip?” Wolf asked as he stepped up and lay Kit gently on the bed. He sat down next to her and took her hand, absently rubbing his thumb across her palm. Just that light touch sent shivers of pleasure through Kit’s body, overshadowing her various aches and pains. She didn’t want to think of Philip or Hugh or Windermere.

  Nicholas shook his head. “Apparently, when John DuBois and his men arrived over a fortnight ago, Philip was here—at least the servants all believed he was on the premises.”

  The king’s men, under the command of Sir John DuBois, had arrived late one afternoon and were greeted by the earl’s housekeeper, Blanche Hanchaw. The woman bid Sir John to wait in the hall while she located his lordship. A quarter of an hour later, the earl was still not to be found. The housekeeper gave her apologies to the knight, and said she was certain that, in his absence, the earl would want them to enjoy the hospitality of Windermere before their return to London in the morning. She hoped that—wherever he had gone—the earl would return to see them off by morning. However, she gave them to believe that the Earl of Windermere often left the castle without notice. Where he might be, Mistress Hanchaw could not venture to guess.

  Sir John, not of a mind to return to the king without Philip Colston, and not entirely trusting of the housekeeper, produced a warrant and ordered his men to search the castle and all the grounds for the earl. Their search resulting in failure, John sent men to scour the town, but the earl still eluded them.

  The commander posted men in strategic places on the roads, in the town and about the castle. They stayed several days, but Philip never turned up. Defeated, John DuBois finally returned to London with news that Philip Colston was still at large.

  “Philip’s possessions are still here,” Nicholas said. “When our men arrived to set Windermere in order for your coming, they cleared out this room—packed everything in trunks. However, Claude Montrose said that if Philip had actually been here when DuBois arrived, he must have left in haste. It appears that he left all his belongings here.”

  Wolf glanced around for the first time and found the room to his liking. Nothing of Philip remained. The chamber had been cleared out and scrubbed, the rugs laid and pitchers of roses arranged the way he remembered the flowers in Kit’s room at Somerton. He knew she was partial to roses.

  “Post men all over the castle and in town,” Wolf said. “I want complete surveillance of the area. It is highly doubtful that Philip would be foolish enough to reveal himself. But we might catch sight of one of his henchmen. I want them followed if they’re seen—not apprehended. And I want it done discreetly.”

  “I will see to it,” Nicholas said. “What of Somers? He requested an audience as soon as you arrived.”

  “He can wait. It may be days before I am ready to see him,” Wolf replied tersely.

  “But Wolf—” Kit started.

  “You’re not to get anywhere near him, Kit,” Wolf interrupted her. “I don’t trust him.”

  Nicholas nodded, satisfied. Wolf was not the only one who abhorred Kit’s treatment at the hands of her stepfather.

  “Has Stephen Prest been located?” he asked Nicholas. Prest had been Bartholomew Colston’s loyal steward years before and Wolf had given orders that the man was to be found. Wolf knew of no better candidate for the position of steward to the Duke of Carlisle.

  “Not yet.” Nicholas answered a knock at the door and allowed two servants to carry in Walf’s packs and Kit’s satchels. “We’ve heard he’s at Elton Manor, two days’ ride from Windermere. Chester and William have ridden to Elton to see if they can find him.”

  “Good. Hallmote will be held as soon as he returns,” Wolf said, “or after I name another steward, if that becomes necessary. I’ll have my vassals swear fealty as soon as possible and we’ll begin to repair the damage Philip has done over the years.”

  “Ja, cousin,” Nicholas said.

  “And find a healer, Nick. Send her here—to Kit,” Wolf said.

  “I believe the gardener is—” he replied.

  “I don’t need Will Rose,” Kit said. “These bruises are nothing. I just—”

  “Find him and send him to us.”

  “I’ll do that,” Nick said with a broad smile as he headed toward the door. “Welcome home, Wolf.”

  “Nicholas—” Kit said before the viscount left the room.

  “Your Grace?” he said with a grin.

  Her cheeks reddened at his use of her title. “Thank you. For everything.”

  He responded with a tilt of his blond head. Then he was gone.

  “How do you feel?” Wolf asked Kit when they were finally alone. He gently smoothed a stray curl back from her forehead.

  “Like a sack of peaches—that have been tossed down a hill,” she replied, grimacing. But on seeing his worried look, she amended her words. “Oh, it’s not so bad, Wolf, really.”

  Kit pulled her skirt back above the thigh and twisted around to look at the damage to her hip. The bruise seemed to have increased in size since she’d last looked, and Kit wondered if the same was true of the one on her shoulder blade.

  “Help me with this, will you, Wolf?” she asked, trying to unfasten her dress.

  “Lie still, Kit, and rest until the healer comes.”

  “There is nothing Will can do for this,” Kit retorted. “I just want to see how bad it is.”

  Will Rose insisted on treating Kit’s bruises with leeches. Kit had never seen Brother Theodore use leeches for bruises at Somerton, but Will assured her that the nasty little creatures were often able to draw off blood from the bruise, limiting its size as well as some of the pain. She wished she’d known about the practice years ago. There had been plenty of times she could have used it.

  When the leeches were glutted, they fell off, and Will collected them in a small earthen pot. “Ye’ll be fine in a couple o’ days, Yer Grace,” he told her. “Best to stay off that ankle ’til the swellin’ goes down a bit, though.”

  “I’ll do that,” she yawned as the man turned to leave. She was so tired, she didn’t think she could keep her eyes open any longer. “Thank you, Will.” Kit sank back into the soft mattress of the bed, and Wolf pulled the coverlet over her.

  “Rest now,” he said. Then he blew out most of the candles in the room.

  A quiet knock brought Wolf to the door. It was Nicholas, along with Sir Edward, who had been out searching for the archer among the cliffs. A quick glance at Kit and Wolf knew she was asleep.

  “Your Grace,” Edward said quietly after Wolf hushed him. “We lost the archer on the hillside. We believe there was only the one.”

  “What!”

  “We killed him, actually,” Edward amended. “Inadvertently. We had him surrounded on three sides, with only a high cliff behind him. There was absolutely no means of escape. He tried to run—the men closed in.”

  “Go on.” Wolf clasped his hands behind his back and paced to the window and back.

  “He started heading in the opposite direction, then all the men moved in. Cornered him. He was shouting at us as he backed up. He stumbled... a hell of a fall...”

  “Who was he?” Wolf asked at length. “Do we know?”

  “Turns out he was Philip’s bailiff,” Nicholas said. “A man called Broderick Ramsey.”

&n
bsp; “No clues on the body where we might find Philip?”

  Nicholas shook his head.

  “Have you any idea yet, how many men are still loyal to Philip?” Wolf asked. “And how many might still be in the vicinity of the castle or Windermere town?”

  “Not yet, but our men are questioning everyone. Wc should have some ideas—”

  A rap at the door interrupted them. Nicholas opened the door to a footman who carried a huge wreath made of fresh leaves and flowers, intricately woven onto a light birch frame.

  “What’s this?” Wolf asked.

  “‘Twas brought by a young lad and his parents, my lord,” the footman replied. “Townsfolk.”

  “Who are they? What are their names?”

  “Why, ‘twas Master Juvet with his wife and their boy, Alfie, my lord.”

  “Bid them to stay,” Wolf ordered. “Have them wait for me in the hall.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the man replied. “Also, Your Grace, Baron Somers...er...demands to see you.”

  “You can send him back wherever he came from,” Wolf replied angrily. “I’ll not be seeing him tonight.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Come then,” Wolf said. “Let’s go see the Juvets.” They left the room, and Wolf left a guard at Kit’s door.

  “Have you spoken to Somers?” Wolf asked Nicholas.

  “Only briefly.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He doesn’t say,” Nicholas replied. “Though he was sober before you returned. And civil enough.”

  Wolf knew he would need to prepare himself before meeting with Kit’s stepfather. It would take all his selfcontrol to avoid beating the man to a bloody pulp. Blackened eyes, split lips, broken collarbones and fingers...he hated to think what more the bastard had done.

  “And what will you do about Baron Wellesley?” Nicholas asked.

  Wolf paused on the stair. He had pushed the baron to the back of his mind. “I don’t suppose he’s said what he wants, either?”

  Nicholas shook his head. “No. Though he appeared quite anxious to welcome you home.”

  “It seems strange, does it not, that he should come to welcome me to my own home?” Wolf asked. “Is he trustworthy?”

  “I don’t know. He may wish only to cull your favor—”

  “I have no intention of trusting anyone in this castle yet, until I determine whose loyalty lies where. Especially not Thomas Somers,” Wolf said to Nicholas as they continued down the stairs and moved towards the great hall. “But I’ll need someone to tend to Kit...”

  “Not the housekeeper?”

  “Mistress Hanchaw least of all,” Wolf replied.

  “Not Somers—”

  “Ha! I’d sooner let Kit near a wild boar.”

  “What about Baron Wellesley and—”

  “He may favor Philip.”

  “And his daughter?”

  “Lady...?” Wolf was at a loss for her name.

  “Christine. We met her at Windermere Fair. As I recollect,” Nick added with a grin, “she took a liking to you—a strong liking.”

  “I’m not in need of another wife, Nick,” he answered, taking his cousin’s meaning.

  “No, but Lady Christine is here. Mayhap Baron Wellesley is unaware that you were wed in London.”

  “Well, he’ll learn of it on the morrow. Why don’t you try to persuade the lady to favor you instead,” Wolf said with a grim smile. “Good night, cousin.”

  Nicholas and Wolf split up, then Wolf went on to meet Alfie’s family alone. The Juvets were a young couple, clean and well dressed, certainly not wearing the simple rough tunics of peasants. Freemen, Wolf thought. An idea took root in Wolf’s mind, and he wondered if the Juvet family’s obvious prosperity would prevent Madam Juvet from accepting a position in the duke’s household.

  Alfie was the first to speak. He stepped forward, glad to see Wolf, yet nervous at the same time. “I was hoping to see yer lady, sir,” he said,“ to give her the wreath we made and...to thank her...for...” He twisted his hat in his hands.

  “My wife is indisposed,” Wolf said. “She took a fall just outside of town, though I’m certain she’ll recover quickly.”

  “Thank the saints for that,” Alfie’s mother said quietly, crossing herself.

  “Is it bad, milord?” Alfie asked, swallowing hard. “I mean, is she...does it hurt her very much?”

  “Well, yes,” Wolf said, “it seemed to hurt quite a bit. But I daresay she’ll be up some tomorrow.”

  “Your Grace,” Master Juvet said, “may I say that we—in town—were disturbed to hear of the attack upon your person and the duchess’ fall. There are a number of men in town who wish to assist you...to bring justice...er...to those who would do you ill.”

  “Your efforts are appreciated, Juvet,” Wolf replied. “All I ask of you now is to inform me if any of Philip Colston’s men are seen about. Perhaps one of them can lead us to my cousin.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Juvet said. “May I also say how pleased we...that is to say, all of us in town were pleased to learn that it was you—Sir Gerhart—who is Wolfram Colston, Duke of Carlisle. And we just heard of your marriage today when young Alfie here—well, Alfie was the one who learned you’d wed Lady Kathryn. Your lady is a most gracious, generous—”

  “Lady Kathryn will always have my undyin’ gratitude and loyalty, Your Grace,” Alfie’s mother said, mustering her courage to speak. “What she did that day at the fair—for my boy—”

  “The townspeople remember Sir Gerhart well from the day you came to the fair, Your Grace,” her husband interrupted. “They never met a man—an outsider—who was so interested in their work, or their fields and crops. The earl himself never cared much, so long as he got his workweek from us,” Juvet said, choosing his words cautiously. After all, it wasn’t every day that a common freeman addressed a duke, and he had been chosen by the townspeople to be the one to represent them, to test the waters in their new lord’s home. “Ever since King Henry’s men came to arrest the earl—well, the old people have been talking about your father, Lord Bartholomew, and the way things were in the days when he was earl. I must tell you that the mood in town has changed a great deal since we learned that you were returning as Lord of Windermere.”

  “Thank you, Juvet,” Wolf said. “I am pleased to be home.”

  “About Lady Kit,” Alfie said. “When can I see her? When—”

  “Hush, lad!” his mother scolded him and pulled him back behind her.

  “I would venture to say that my wife will be able to see you tomorrow, Alfie,” Wolf said, “if you don’t present yourself too early. Not before noontime at least.”

  Alfie smiled and nodded. “I’ll be here!”

  “There is one problem, though,” Wolf said, turning his eyes to Madam Juvet. “Lady Kathryn is in need of a companion... a trustworthy woman to spend days here at the castle with her—”

  “Oh, Your Grace,” Madam Juvet interrupted without hesitation, “I am just the one for it!”

  “You, Madam Juvet?”

  “Oh, yes,” she replied. “I owe your wife a debt, and I’d gladly be companion to such a merciful, courageous lady. If not for her—well, I hate to think what would have happened to my Alfie if she’d not interceded for him.” Madam Juvet beamed at Wolf.

  Emma Juvet agreed to begin her duties the following morning. Alfie would be permitted to come along for a short visit because Wolf knew how pleased Kit would be to see him.

  Wolf was anxious to return to his chambers to see about Kit. He gave orders for bathwater to be sent to his room and was about to mount the stairs when he encountered Thomas Somers, lurking in the shadows near the steps. Lines of dissolution crinkled the skin around his eyes and mouth, and Wolf felt an immense distaste for the man who had so abused Kit when she was helpless to defend herself.

  “Won’t see me, eh?” he slurred drunkenly, poking a finger into Wolf’s chest. “Can’t spare a few moments’ time for your precious w
ife’s father?”

  “Since you cannot claim the honor of being my wife’s father—No!” Wolf replied forcefully, reining in his temper. “Leave Windermere at once, Somers. You have no business here.”

  “Well, I won’t leave ‘til I’ve seen her,” the baron sneered. “Don’t know why the king wanted her in London, but you owe me. You went off to London and you took her. Preyed ’pon her innocence. Don’t try to deny it. And don’t think I don’t know what the lying whore’s been tel—”

  Wolf’s fist smashed into the baron’s face, sending Somers crashing to the stone floor, and rendering further speech impossible.

  Somers raised himself up on one elbow and touched his face gingerly with his other hand. His eyes were teary with the force of the blow and a steady stream of blood trickled from one nostril. With gentle fingers, the baron reassured himself that none of his facial features had been knocked loose. He glared at Wolf with a chilling and obvious hatred in his eyes, but the duke turned and left the sprawling baron to his own devices.

  Wolf headed up the steps to his chamber, unaware of a witness in a nearby alcove.

  Wolf sat down next to Kit on the bed. Her eyelashes lay thick on her cheek, and she stirred only slightly when he touched her face. Wolfs heart twisted, seeing her lying there so pale, so vulnerable. At least he had been able to keep her safe from her contemptible stepfather.

  Servants arrived and laid a small fire in the grate to take off the chill of the evening. Then they set up Wolf’s bath in front of the fireplace. Wolf bid them to leave one bucket of hot water near the fire, and gave orders that he was to be disturbed by no one—with the exception of Nicholas Becker. He stood up and stretched, looking back down at his wife.