Velvet Bond Read Online Free
Warwicke, and consider this dispute settled. I would have no more strife because of it.” He stared at Nigel Harrington for a long moment.
Knowing that he had been chastened by the king, however politely, Nigel Harrington turned and hurried from the chamber.
Raynor felt a sweet relief ease the tight band of tension around his chest. Now Willow would be safe from that bastard who called himself her uncle.
King Edward waved a dismissive hand. “We have many other matters to attend, Lord Warwicke, and thus I must bid you good-day.”
“My thanks to you, my liege.” Raynor bowed himself from the room. He was more than glad to have this interview at an end. He forced himself to walk the length of the room with carefully measured steps.
Bronic and Stephen followed him as the great oaken door was opened, and they passed into the antechamber.
Bronic looked at Raynor, letting out his breath, as if he had been holding it for a very long time. He raked his hand through his shaggy blond hair. “Praise God.”
Stephen was looking from one to the other with curiosity.
Raynor gave a mental shrug. He might as well tell Stephen the story he had decided upon. The day’s events would be all over court in a matter of hours, anyway. And it might as well be Raynor’s version of the tale as anyone else’s.
He smiled at the auburn-haired man. They had fostered together as boys, with the earl of Norwich, but Raynor had left after only one year, when his father died. Though many things had passed in the thirteen years since, Raynor had always remembered Stephen with friendship and a sense of trust. He knew that Stephen would not embellish the story he was about to be told, but would relate it to others just as he had heard it.
Raynor said, “Harrington can go to the very devil, for aught I care. He has tried to make trouble for the last time. Edward has upheld my claim to guardianship of the little one. She will remain at Warwicke.”
Stephen asked, “What is he about? Some weeks ago he came to court, whining to whoever would listen that his sister’s child was stolen from him. Obviously the tale gained him today’s audience, but nothing more, for Edward has upheld your claim. I had no idea you were the man who was supposed to have done the evil deed until just now. Why would Harrington accuse you of such a ridiculous crime? Who does he name as the father?”
Unable to stifle a rush of anger, Raynor looked at the floor. He didn’t want Stephen to guess at his overwhelming hatred for Nigel Harrington. He must guard Willow’s secret at all costs. He had promised her mother, Louisa. “He names none, because there is none besides myself. Harrington plays a game of greed. Willow is an heiress through her mother. The lands must pass through the female of the line if there are no direct male descendants, and there are none. Nigel is the son of Lord Harrington’s first wife, and has no claim. Without the little one, he has no access to her wealth. That is why he has dragged me here to publicly humiliate both me and my child.” Raynor’s lean jaw flexed, and his lips twisted with derision. “King Edward could only take my word or Harrington’s and he has no proof to discredit me.”
“Well, it’s hardly surprising that King Edward would believe you, when Harrington could not even name any other as the father. The man is hardly rational.”
Even though his stomach was knotted with hatred and tension, Raynor nearly laughed aloud, albeit bitterly. To say Nigel was irrational was most surely a gross understatement. If Stephen only knew the truth of why Harrington kept the child’s parentage to himself. “I fear,” he said, “that there is no mystery here. Louisa’s child is my own. I regret that I was not able to marry her before she died, because our child’s parentage would not have been in question had I done so.” His brown eyes darkened to walnut in sorrow as he
Knowing that he had been chastened by the king, however politely, Nigel Harrington turned and hurried from the chamber.
Raynor felt a sweet relief ease the tight band of tension around his chest. Now Willow would be safe from that bastard who called himself her uncle.
King Edward waved a dismissive hand. “We have many other matters to attend, Lord Warwicke, and thus I must bid you good-day.”
“My thanks to you, my liege.” Raynor bowed himself from the room. He was more than glad to have this interview at an end. He forced himself to walk the length of the room with carefully measured steps.
Bronic and Stephen followed him as the great oaken door was opened, and they passed into the antechamber.
Bronic looked at Raynor, letting out his breath, as if he had been holding it for a very long time. He raked his hand through his shaggy blond hair. “Praise God.”
Stephen was looking from one to the other with curiosity.
Raynor gave a mental shrug. He might as well tell Stephen the story he had decided upon. The day’s events would be all over court in a matter of hours, anyway. And it might as well be Raynor’s version of the tale as anyone else’s.
He smiled at the auburn-haired man. They had fostered together as boys, with the earl of Norwich, but Raynor had left after only one year, when his father died. Though many things had passed in the thirteen years since, Raynor had always remembered Stephen with friendship and a sense of trust. He knew that Stephen would not embellish the story he was about to be told, but would relate it to others just as he had heard it.
Raynor said, “Harrington can go to the very devil, for aught I care. He has tried to make trouble for the last time. Edward has upheld my claim to guardianship of the little one. She will remain at Warwicke.”
Stephen asked, “What is he about? Some weeks ago he came to court, whining to whoever would listen that his sister’s child was stolen from him. Obviously the tale gained him today’s audience, but nothing more, for Edward has upheld your claim. I had no idea you were the man who was supposed to have done the evil deed until just now. Why would Harrington accuse you of such a ridiculous crime? Who does he name as the father?”
Unable to stifle a rush of anger, Raynor looked at the floor. He didn’t want Stephen to guess at his overwhelming hatred for Nigel Harrington. He must guard Willow’s secret at all costs. He had promised her mother, Louisa. “He names none, because there is none besides myself. Harrington plays a game of greed. Willow is an heiress through her mother. The lands must pass through the female of the line if there are no direct male descendants, and there are none. Nigel is the son of Lord Harrington’s first wife, and has no claim. Without the little one, he has no access to her wealth. That is why he has dragged me here to publicly humiliate both me and my child.” Raynor’s lean jaw flexed, and his lips twisted with derision. “King Edward could only take my word or Harrington’s and he has no proof to discredit me.”
“Well, it’s hardly surprising that King Edward would believe you, when Harrington could not even name any other as the father. The man is hardly rational.”
Even though his stomach was knotted with hatred and tension, Raynor nearly laughed aloud, albeit bitterly. To say Nigel was irrational was most surely a gross understatement. If Stephen only knew the truth of why Harrington kept the child’s parentage to himself. “I fear,” he said, “that there is no mystery here. Louisa’s child is my own. I regret that I was not able to marry her before she died, because our child’s parentage would not have been in question had I done so.” His brown eyes darkened to walnut in sorrow as he
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