Johanna Lindsey: Johanna Lindsey When Love Awaits

raised in anger and decided to hide. Rolfe's mistress would not know him

well enough yet to know he would not take his anger out on her.

Hesitantly, Thorpe asked, "You do see that now is not the time to

attack the east? You must clean your own house before you go looking at

another's."

"I see it," Rolfe said testily. "But tell me what I am to do. I offered to purchase Pershwick, but Sir William wrote that he could not sell it

because Pershwick is part of his daughter's dower lands, left her by her

mother. Blast that nicety. The daughter is under his rule, is she not? He

could force her to sell it and give her another property."

"Perhaps the mother's will is written just so, and he cannot."

Rolfe scowled. "I tell you, Thorpe, I will not stand for another offense."

"You could always marry the daughter. Then you would have the

keep without having to pay for it."

Rolfe's eyes, black since he'd entered the hall, began returning to their

normal dark brown. Thorpe nearly choked. "I was but jesting!"

"I know." Rolfe mused thoughtfully, too thoughtfully for Thorpe's

liking.

"Rolfe, for the love of God, do not take this idea to heart. No one weds

merely to get a few serfs under control. Go over there and knock some

heads together, if you must. Put fear into them."

"That is not my way. The innocent would suffer with the guilty. If I

could catch one of the culprits, I would make an example of him, but

always by the time I get there, they are long gone."

"There are many reasons for marriage, but to quell the serfs of a

neighbor is not a good reason."

"No, but to gain peace where peace is wanted is," Rolfe countered.

"Rolfe!"

"Do you know anything about this daughter of Sir William's?"

Thorpe sighed with exasperation. "How could I know? I am as new in

England as you."

Rolfe turned toward his men, gathered at the opposite end of the hall.

Three of his knights had returned with him from Kenil, as well as a small

troop of men-at-arms. Two were from Brittany, but Sir Evarard was from

the south of England.

"Know you my neighbor, Sir William of Montwyn, Evarard?"

Evarard approached. "Aye, my lord. At one time he was often at court,

as I was before I came of age."

"Has he many children?"

"I cannot say how many he might have now, but he had only one, a

daughter, when he was last at court. That was five or six years ago, before

his wife died. I understand he has a young wife now, but of children

from this union I do not know."

"Know you this daughter?"

"I saw her once with her mother, the lady Elisabeth. I remember

wondering at the time how such a beautiful lady could have such an

uncomely child."

"There!" Thorpe interjected. "Now will you let the fool idea rest, Rolfe?"

Rolfe ignored his old friend. "Uncomely, Evarard? How so?"

"She had great red splotches covering every part of her skin that could

be seen. It was a shame, for the shape of her face might have foretold

beauty like her mother's."

"What more can you tell me of her?"

"I only saw her once, and she hid behind her mother's skirts."

"Her name?"

Sir Evarard frowned thoughtfully. "I am sorry, my lord. I cannot

remember."

"It is Lady Leonie, my lord."

All three men turned toward the maid who had spoken. Rolfe did not

like the servants to be so attuned to his conversations. He frowned.

"And what is your name, girl?"

"Mildred," she replied with proper meekness. Now that the lord's eyes were upon her, she could have torn her tongue out for speaking up. Sir

Rolfe's temper was a terrible thing to behold.

"How do you know the lady Leonie?"

Mildred took heart at the quiet inquiry. "She—she came here often

from Pershwick when—"

"Pershwick!" Rolfe bellowed. "She lives there? Not at Montwyn?"

Mildred blanched. She was beholden to Lady Leonie and would have

died rather than hurt her. She knew her lord blamed Pershwick for the

damage Crewel had suffered since his taking it over.

"My lord, please," Mildred said quickly. "The lady is all that is kind.

When the Crewel leech left my mother to die of a disease he could not

cure, Lady Leonie saved her. She knows much of the healing arts, my

lord. She would never cause a hurt, I swear it."

"She does live at Pershwick?" At Mildred's reluctant nod, Rolfe

demanded, "Why there and not with her father?"

Mildred stepped back, eyes wide with fear. She could not say

anything bad of another lord, even one her new lord might not like. She

would surely be beaten for criticizing her betters.

Rolfe understood her fear and softened his tone. "Come, Mildred, tell

me what you know. You need not fear me."

"It—it is only that my former master, Sir Edmond, claimed Sir William

liked—drink too well since his first wife died. Sir Edmond would not let

his son wed Lady Leonie because Sir William swears he has no daughter.

He said an alliance with her would gain them naught. She was sent to

Pershwick when her mother died and has been separated from her father

since, or so I have heard."

"So Lady Leonie and Sir Edmond's son were . . . close?"

"She and Sir Alain were only a year apart in age, my lord. Yes, they

were very close."

"Damn me!" Rolfe stormed. "So she has set her serfs to plague me! She does it out of love of the Montignys!"

"No, my lord." Mildred risked herself again. "She would not."

Rolfe paid no attention to this declaration for he had already

dismissed the maid from his mind. "It is no wonder our complaints were

ignored if the lady herself is set against me. But if I make war on

Pershwick, I make war on a woman. What do you think now of your jest,

Thorpe?"

"I think you will do what you will do." Thorpe sighed. "But do

consider whether you want a deformed creature as wife before you rush

ahead."

Rolfe waved that aside. "What law says I must live with the lady?"

"Then why take her to wife? Be reasonable, Rolfe. All these years you

avoided marriage when many great beauties were willing."

"I was landless then, Thorpe, and I could not wed without a home to

offer my wife."

Thorpe began to say more, but Rolfe said flatly, "What I want most

now is peace."

"Peace? Or revenge?"

Rolfe shrugged. "I will not hurt the lady, but she will regret causing

me any ill if that is what she intends. See how she likes being confined in

Pershwick the rest of her days and her people hanged—for the slightest

wrongdoing. I will have an end to these troubles."

"What of Lady Amelia?" Thorpe murmured.

Rolfe frowned. "She came here by her own choice. If she wishes to

leave, so be it. But if she wishes to stay, she is welcome. My taking a wife

will not change my affections in other regards. At least my taking of this wife will not. I have no duty to please her, not after all she has done. The

lady Leonie will have no say in what I do."

Thorpe shook his head and said no more. He could only hope a good

night's sleep would bring Rolfe to his senses.

Chapter 4

ROLFE paced in the anteroom outside the king's chamber. It was

good of Henry to see him so soon, but Rolfe hated asking favors, even if

this favor would cost Henry no more than words, words on parchment.

Henry, on the other hand, loved doing favors. Rolfe's new position as one

of Henry's barons had been such a favor, given without warning during a

friendly talk the last time Rolfe was in London. The Kempston lands had