CHAPTER ELEVEN
The plan had been to stop and camp for the night, somewhere before reaching Chadlington, so the party from Ramsbury would arrive in the morning, with standards flying in the light of day to make a grand announcement of their arrival.
Unfortunately, it didn’t quite work out that way.
They’d traveled most of the day at a somewhat leisurely pace until sometime towards midafternoon. A bank of dark clouds rolled in from the west and the temperature began to drop. Dashiell suspected, as did most of the men, that it meant a storm was on the approach, and all of them had been right – as it neared sunset, snow flurries began to fall and by the time they stopped to supper, the snow was falling steadily.
It was quite beautiful, but it was also unwelcome. Dashiell was afraid that if they camped for the night, they would find themselves snowed in by morning, so he made the decision to travel through the night in an effort to reach Chadlington before they were snowed in completely.
This meant that by the time they reached Chadlington at dawn, it was with one hundred and fifty exhausted men, three exhausted knights, an array of exhausted horses, and women who had hardly slept as the carriages had bumped and shimmied over the muddy, snowy road. It had been a long, rough night.
Not exactly the entrance that Dashiell had wanted to make, but it couldn’t be helped.
The men of Chadlington couldn’t have been kinder in their efforts to help the Duke of Savernake’s party find comfort and warmth after so miserable a journey. Chadlington was a large castle with two moderately small wards, meaning the guests for Lady Jillayne’s party had to camp outside the walls. But it wasn’t just the Savernake party camping; there were several other houses that had already arrived, and the men from Chadlington had spent all night shoveling away snow and spreading straw over the field to the east where the guests would be camping for the festivities.
The Duke of Savernake’s party was given the best area to camp in, away from the road but on the upslope so that all water would wick away from the area. As the Savernake men pitched tents and tended to the horses, the Chadlington men built big fires so there would be warmth when they were finished.
Even though Belladonna hadn’t slept all night, she was too excited to nap as her sisters and father were doing. The duke was sleeping heavily on one of the long carriage benches while Acacia slept at his feet, getting kicked in the head once in a while as he fidgeted. Lily was passed out on the other bench, but Belladonna stood by one of the windows, looking out over the winter-white landscape as her father’s men set up camp.
Smoke was heavy on the icy air, wafting into the carriage, and Belladonna eventually closed the shutters to keep it from filling up the cab. But she was still excited about being there. She very much wanted to see Jillayne, her friend, so she picked the puppy up from where it had been snoring at Lily’s feet and, wrapping it up in her cloak with only its head sticking out, she headed out into the frozen world.
Men were working tirelessly raising the tents, their steaming breath bursting like puffs of fog from their mouths as they labored. Since the Chadlington men had shoveled away the snow, leaving a layer of straw upon the ground, it wasn’t difficult to walk through the camp. Belladonna was looking for Dashiell, hoping he would take her to the castle so she could present Jillayne with her present.
He wasn’t difficult to find.
They were having trouble raising the duke’s tent. The ground was frozen because of the weather, and because the duke’s tent was so large and heavy, the stakes that they were driving into the ground to hold it were pulling free because they couldn’t drive them deep enough.
Therefore, Belladonna stood and watched as Dashiell drove a stake into the ground with a massive, heavy sledge hammer. He was heaving with effort, his hot breath puffing up around him as he worked. When he finished and stood back for the men to secure the tent lines, he caught sight of Belladonna standing several feet away.
Breathing heavily, he immediately went over to her as she stood there, wrapped up in her cloak with the puppy’s head sticking out at chest-level. There was a ready smile on his lips as he greeted her.
“Why are you not sleeping like the others?” he asked.
Her eyes twinkled as she looked at him. “I am too excited to sleep,” she said. “I came to find you. I want to give Jillayne her puppy and was hoping you could escort me into the castle.”
He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Now?”
“Now.”
He looked around at all of the activity, specifically at the duke’s tent. “We are having a difficult time raising your father’s tent,” he told her. “I seem to be the only one able to drive the stakes in deep enough. I would be happy to send Bent or Aston with you if you must go now. Would that be acceptable?”
She was disappointed, but she understood. “Certainly,” she said. “I am not entirely sure when I shall have the opportunity to give the puppy to Jillayne once the festivities start, so I thought to do it now before the chaos begins.”
He grinned. “Chaos, indeed,” he said. “I have been told that tonight is the great feast followed by games tomorrow. Chadlington’s men have coerced me into both the mêlée and the archery contests of skill.”
Belladonna smiled brightly. “And you shall carry my favor for both,” she said. “Imagine how proud I shall be when you win everything.”
He snorted. “I shall try, my lady.”
She shook her head firmly. “You shall win, Dash. There is no one in England that can best you, in anything.”
Her faith in him was touching. “With you as my champion, surely I cannot fail.”
She was pleased that he was seeing things her way. “Of course you will not,” she said. “Now, if you will send Bent or Aston to me, I shall be on my way to deliver this puppy.”
With a wink, he left her standing for a few minutes while he hunted down Aston, who was the first knight he came across. The man was standing over some soldiers as they repaired a broken axle on one of the wagons, and when Dashiell told him what he was needed for, Aston was more than happy to comply.
Soon enough, Belladonna and Aston were heading for the gatehouse of Chadlington Castle.
Clayton had seen Belladonna, under Aston’s escort, heading to the main gate that was built on the western side of the enclosure.
He thought it was a rather perfect situation for what he needed to do.
Clayton had maintained a low profile since Dashiell’s tongue lashing before they had departed Ramsbury. He’d gone to his horse and remained there. The entire trip to Chadlington, he had been riding at the very front of the escort, away from Dashiell and the knights who were so against him. He didn’t want to talk to any of them, and even when Dashiell made decisions about continuing through the night to avoid being snowed in, he kept quiet even though he didn’t want to continue. He wanted to retreat to his tent and sulk, but that wasn’t to be.
So, he’d ridden through the night, arriving at Chadlington as exhausted as the rest of them. But he pushed that exhaustion aside when he saw how many people had already arrived for the festivities, as the field to the east of the castle was a veritable sea of tents, and the standards from many different families slapped in the icy breeze.
In particular, he was looking for the banner of Lord Sherston, but he wasn’t entirely sure the man would be flying a banner at a celebration he hadn’t been invited to. Lord Sherston’s home was closer to Chadlington than Ramsbury was, so it was Clayton’s hope that once Anthony received the missive, he’d come straight away to Chadlington to await the arrival of the Ramsbury party. Therefore, once they’d arrived at Chadlington, Clayton immediately set out to find Anthony Cromford, Lord Sherston.
Perhaps his future brother-in-law and the last nail in the coffin of Dashiell du Reims.
He’d gone on the hunt while Dashiell and the Ramsbury men struggled to erect tents upon the frozen ground. Clayton never helped with manual labor, anyway, and he could hear Dashiell bellowing all across the encampment, which was normal for the man. He had a big mouth. At least, Clayton thought so. Big mouth and arrogant.
A man he truly hated.
If du Reims wasn’t in the picture, then Clayton’s life at Ramsbury would be so much easier. He would be king of the castle, even if it wasn’t his – yet. And that’s what Lord Sherston was supposed to ensure – that Dashiell du Reims would leave Ramsbury if Belladonna was married to another man so that Clayton could be rid of his nemesis once and for all.
God, Clayton could only pray it would happen.
But Lord Sherston proved elusive, at least for the first half-hour of searching. The more Clayton looked, the more he came up empty. In the distance, on the rise against the castle moat, the Duke of Savernake’s tents were going up, one by one, and Clayton was growing increasingly frustrated with his inability to locate Sherston.
And then, he had an idea.
There was a town to the west of the castle, a small village, but it did have a tavern. A perfect place for an uninvited lord to linger. As Clayton headed out of the encampment and headed for the town, he caught sight of Summerlin escorting Lady Belladonna entering the great gatehouse of Chadlington.
Summerlin, he could get around. It was du Reims who proved immovable, so Clayton had to strike while Belladonna was with an escort he could intimidate. The town was to the west of the castle, butted right up against it, so it was hardly an effort to enter the main street of the town and make haste towards the only tavern, the Slug and Lettuce.
A nasty little tavern with a nasty little name. Someone must have been drunk when they named it. Of course, it was full of women ready to play lettuce to a paying man’s slug but, at this point, Clayton wasn’t interested in the whores who seemed interested in him. He was on the hunt for a particular lord that he’d invited to the celebration.
What he didn’t know was that the particular lord he sought had seen the Savernake standards enter Chadlington and, even now, he was already in the encampment, looking for a particular lady.
“Dash! Dashiell du Reims!”
Dashiell had just finished pounding in the eighth stake for the duke’s tent when he heard someone calling his name. Winded, he turned to see a young lord that he immediately recognized. He tried to hide his shock as he handed the hammer off to one of the nearby soldiers.
“Cromford?” he said, sounding incredulous even though he was trying not to. “Damnation, man, what are you doing here?”
Anthony Cromford, Lord Sherston, was a young and genuinely likable man. As Dashiell had once told Belladonna, Sherston was the kind of man Clayton wouldn’t normally associate with. He had an excellent reputation as an honorable knight, but he was also fabulously wealthy and politically ambitious, which was just the type of man Clayton wanted to be allied with.
A man with a hunger for power.
Cromford was a rather short man with a winning smile and flashing brown eyes, and he seemed quite happy to see Dashiell. He extended a hand to du Reims in greeting.
“I see you survived the battle at Northampton,” Anthony said, referring to the last time they had seen one another. “’Tis good to see you again.”
Dashiell forced a smile at the young knight as he accepted the outstretched hand. “And you,” he said. “So you have been invited to this decadent party, too? I was not aware that you knew the House of Chadlington.”
Anthony shrugged. “I do not,” he said. “Truth be told, I was not invited to the party by Lord Chadlington. I was invited by Clayton. Is he with you?”
A warning bell went off in Dashiell’s mind. “He is somewhere around here,” he said. “But why should he invite you?”
In Anthony’s defense, he was too young and too far removed from the senior command structure of England’s warlords to know what most of the older men knew about Dashiell and a certain duke’s daughter. He was part of the younger crowd, so his answer was honest in that he had no reason not to tell Dashiell why he’d come.
In hindsight, it was one of the biggest mistakes he would ever make.
“Business, shall we say,” Anthony said, grinning. “I suppose he has told you, so I am sure this is not news. He has asked me to come and meet the duke’s youngest daughter, Lady Belladonna. Mayhap there is an alliance on the horizon, eh, Dash? Clayton tells me she’s the beauty of the sisters. Is she about so that you may introduce us?”
It took all of Dashiell’s self-control not to throttle the excited young man. Then, after he squeezed the life from him, he was going to find Clayton and beat his brains out. That was his thought process, and one he would dearly like to act upon, but he knew he couldn’t. At least, not for all to see. Therefore, he had to steel himself.
Breathe, man, breathe!
“That is why you are here?” he asked through clenched teeth. “To inspect Lady Belladonna?”
Anthony nodded, unaware how close he was to having his neck broken. “Aye,” he said. “Clayton thought this would be a good place to do it. If I do not like what I see, then I can leave and she will be none the wiser. But if I do like what I see…”
He trailed off, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Dashiell had to force his balled fists behind his back. Although he didn’t blame Sherston for coming at Clayton’s invitation, he could see exactly what had happened. Knowing that Dashiell would have circumvented any attempt to see Belladonna had Sherston been invited to Ramsbury, Clayton had invited him to a big event with many people, probably hoping that Dashiell would never even see him.
Cleary, that part of the plan had gone awry as Sherston excitedly came to the Ramsbury encampment looking for Belladonna. Dashiell had no idea where Clayton was and he surely didn’t care, because he was going to stop Sherston’s interest before it really got started. Taking a deep breath to calm the building rage, Dashiell crooked his finger to Sherston and began to lead him away from the encampment.
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
Gladly, Sherston followed. He followed Dashiell through the Savernake encampment until they reached the south side of the field, away from men where they could be afforded some privacy. When Dashiell felt they were far enough away, he turned to the young lord.
“Anthony,” he said evenly. “I am going to ask you a question and I would expect an honest answer.”
Sherston was serious. “Of course, du Reims.”
“How well do you know Clayton?”
Sherston cocked his head thoughtfully. “We have gambled together,” he said. “We have eaten together. We have spent some time together, but not as close friends. Simply as acquaintances. Truthfully, his missive about the lady did surprise me. We do not know each other terribly well.”
Dashiell considered that before continuing. “What do you know of his reputation?”
“That he is ambitious.”
“Ambitious, indeed,” Dashiell muttered. “Anthony, he is so ambitious that he is trying to make a marital match with you to a woman who is already spoken for. He simply does not agree with her match and he is hoping, when the duke dies, that he can take control of her destiny and marry her to you because of your wealth and political connections. That is all he wants you for.”
It was rather blunt, and Sherston’s brow furrowed. “She is already spoken for?”
“Aye.”
Sherston stared at him a moment before sighing heavily. “That is a rather underhanded thing to do,” he said, clearly disappointed. “Who is she pledged to?”
“Me.”
Sherston’s eyes widened. “Oh… du Reims!” he gasped. “I did not know. Had I known, I surely would not have come!”
It was fear causing him to speak, fearful of Dashiell’s reaction to his presence. The young man wasn’t foolish; he knew what kind of a warrior du Reims was. But in that fear, Dashiell saw an opportunity at that moment that he didn’t think he would have. If he could pull Sherston over to his side and to his way of thinking then, perhaps, they could both circumvent Clayton’s wishes. It was worth a try, anyway.
“If he did not send the missive to you, it would have been to another wealthy lord,” he said. “It just happened to be you. You see, Clayton is threatened by me and because of that, he is threatening to take Belladonna from me to undermine me. Ambition is only the beginning with him, Anthony. He is a vile, petty excuse for a man and when he assumes the Savernake dukedom, it will be hell for us all. That being said, I must ask you a favor.”
Sherston nodded eagerly. “Anything, du Reims.”
“Go along with him for now. Do not tell him that you and I have spoken. Pretend you are interested in the marital contract, but do not commit to it. I need time and I suspect that you are the only one who can give it to me. Clayton must think you are interested in Belladonna, but you must not act on it. String him along until he demands an answer. Will you do this for me?”
Sherston nodded seriously. “If you wish it,” he said. “But for what purpose?”
“As I said, I need time,” Dashiell said. “I am awaiting word from the Archbishop of Canterbury. I am afraid if you run to Clayton right now and tell him you have no interest, he will simply invite another less scrupulous lord to court Belladonna, someone who does not have the moral character that you have. If he does that, it will tear Savernake apart. Will you help me?”
Again, Sherston nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I will delay him all I can.”
Dashiell couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome and the relief he felt was palpable. He put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Good,” he said. “Thank you. But know this will not go unrewarded. I shall ever be in your debt, as will the earldom of East Anglia. We will be a much better and much more grateful ally in the end.”
Anthony knew that would be a great measure of support for his father and his properties, and he was more than willing to comply with Dashiell’s request. There was some kind of a power struggle going on at Savernake and, to be truthful, he really didn’t want to get involved. But he had to admit that, for the lady’s sake, he was disheartened. He had actually been hopeful of a viable marriage prospect.
“I am happy to help,” he said. “But I must say that I am none too pleased to be pulled into Clayton’s schemes. I thought this was a genuine offer of marriage.”
Dashiell sighed heavily. “It is Clayton’s way of undermining my relationship with Belladonna. He will do anything to weaken me, however he can. I support the current duke, as I am sworn to, and Clayton cannot stand the fact that I do. He believes that he should be in command.”
Sherston looked at him with disgust. “I did not know such a thing was happening at Ramsbury,” he said. “My father will be very unhappy to hear this.”
Dashiell held up a hand as if to ease the young lord’s growing frustration. “Tell your father if you must, but if I were you, I would not turn on Clayton,” he said. “Like him or not, he will be the duke someday and you do not wish him for an enemy.”
“I will become an enemy when I turn down his offer of marriage.”
“Nay, you will not. Simply tell him she is not to your liking.”
Sherston scratched his head in a hesitant gesture. “Is that possible? He said she was a beauty.”
Dashiell grinned. “It is not possible,” he said. “She is an angel. She is the most perfect woman in all of England. You are going to have to lie.”
Sherston stared at him a moment before breaking down into quiet laughter. “I am not sure I am that good of a liar,” he said. “But if the alternative is earning your hatred, I would rather earn Clayton’s.”
Dashiell patted him on the shoulder one last time before dropping his hand. “Do this and you shall have my undying gratitude,” he said. “You cannot imagine the hell that Clayton has put all at Ramsbury through over the past three years. I could tell you tales of his behavior, but I do not wish to spread gossip. So, suffice it to say it is worse than you can possibly imagine. Thank you for helping me keep the man at bay on this particular subject.”
Sherston rubbed his chin, eyeing Dashiell as he did so. “I will do this for you, but you will do something for me.”
“You only need name it.”
“Find me a bride as lovely and accomplished as your Lady Belladonna.”
Dashiell fought off a smile. “Have you met Lady Jillayne Chadlington yet?”
“I have not.”
“The last time I saw the girl, she was quite lovely,” he said. “As far as I know, she is not spoken for. Tonight, attend the great feast and find me. I will make the necessary introductions and I will ensure there is privacy so her focus will be on you entirely.”
Sherston was back to being hopeful again. “With pleasure, du Reims,” he said. “And you have my thanks.”
“And you have mine.”
With that, they separated, with Sherston heading back the way he’d come and Dashiell heading back to finish with the duke’s tent.
Damn Clayton! Dashiell thought as he stormed back to the encampment. The more he thought about Clayton’s attempt to undermine him, the angrier he became. He knew the man was underhanded, but this went beyond even what he thought Clayton was capable of. Thank God he ran into Lord Sherston when he did; had he not been the one to intercept the man, then the situation would have been very bad, indeed. Trying to marry Belladonna out from under him was a declaration of war as far as Dashiell was concerned.
He’d received the message loud and clear.