Hearts in Cups (15 page)

As he left the glare of
the courtyard he glanced up and found Lord Colin watching him from the shadows
of the portico. The mortification that he had been too bruised, mentally and
physically, to feel, welled up and his face went crimson with shame. Until now
he had not taken into account the extent to which his actions would touch
anyone besides himself. Seeing his patron, he understood that there were others
whom he honoured who were suffering for his folly. The viscount and his wife
had given him their affection and trust. They had treated him as a son and he
had repaid them with deceit.  Averting his eyes, he stumbled on, glad for
what the darkness could hide.

An apprehensive Dinea
was prowling up and down the length of her bed-chamber when Colin let himself
in. Her hair had come undone in several places and she was absently pushing it
off of her face only to have it stray down again moments later. The strain of
the last three days had brought a dark, brooding quality to her eyes. As Colin
entered her room, she whirled eagerly.

"They're
back?" Her voice cracked with tension.

Colin nodded wearily
and unfastened his cloak. Dinea took it and began to fold it in silence as he
sat down and ran a hand over his face. Looking up into her anxious eyes, he
managed a slight smile and pulled her gently onto his lap. "I do not
believe that the duke's men were over-kind to him, but they are both returned.
I did not see much of the girl, as she was quickly hustled off to Creon's
residence. But I did see Daffyd and, what is more, he saw me. The palace guards
took custody of him and he is now in one of their prison cells. He has a number
of cuts and bruises, but when I made inquiries of the prison healer I was told
that there is no permanent damage. The duke's men say he put up a fight and had
to be subdued. I don't know how true that is."

"Did you speak
with him?"

He shook his head.
"Orders are that he be kept in strict isolation while the matter is being
investigated." He sighed. "Branwilde is very angry. I think that the
girl's condition is going to be the deciding factor in the end, but right now
he wants Daffyd's head and it's going to be hard to convince him not to take
it."

She pulled away from
him. "Oh, surely he cannot mean to take his life if the girl is all right.
I'm certain that Daffyd would never have hurt her. To be honest, I can't even
see him abducting her in the first place. I believe that she must have run away
with him and, while that was not a commendable act for either of them, it is
not a crime!"

"No? Well, we shall
have to hope that she did go voluntarily and will say so. If she was forced
then there will be nothing that anyone can do for him.  Branwilde will
have him executed." He smiled wanly at her and continued, "But, like
you, I really don't believe that Daffyd would have kidnapped or harmed her in
any way. All that we can do, I am afraid, is to wait until the girl tells her
story and I can arrange a meeting with Daffyd."

At that moment, the
young woman who was the catalyst of all the turmoil stood stamping her feet in
rage, with tears of anger and frustration coursing down her face. "He did
not take me away by force! It was my idea for us to run away! I was not
kidnapped and I was certainly not raped!"

She was standing in the
anteroom of her bed-chamber, facing her mother. Her father had entered the room
moments before and now stood with his back towards her, facing the fireplace,
clasping and unclasping his hands in agitation. Surrounded by the ever-present
guards, she had been taken to the wing of the palace reserved for her family
and handed over to her mother and a flock of female attendants. Weary from her
many hours in the stifling heat of the enclosed coach and disoriented by the
blur of the last few days, she had allowed her clothes to be stripped from her
and her body placed in a large basin of steaming water. Numbly aware of the
sponges being rubbed over her and the rough invigoration of towels, she said
nothing but docilely did as she was asked. They clothed her in a long cotton
chemise, finely embroidered with close-fitting sleeves, and draped her with a
thick woven shawl. Then they left her with her mother and a man whom she
identified as her mother's personal physician.  A drink, warm and slightly
bitter tasting, was given to her as the man began examining her. She hardly
paid him any attention as he felt for her pulse and peered into her eyes. It
was only when he urged her to lie back and began to raise her shift that she
came into full awareness of the situation and began to protest violently. Her
mother joined with the doctor in trying to calm her, but she only became more
upset.

How dare they think
such evil thoughts, she railed at them. Didn't they know that she had gone of
her own free will? She had run away because she was in love with Daffyd. They
had done nothing wrong; the only wrong-doing was in sending those terrible
soldiers who had taken her away from the man she loved, locked her in a foul
carriage and beaten Daffyd who had done nothing worse than love her better than
her parents obviously did!

It was during the last
part of the tirade that the duke had come into the room. He tersely ordered the
physician to leave while he advanced on his daughter, took her by the arm and
actively propelled her into a chair.

"Angharad my
dear," he began, looking strained and tired. "I understand that this
has been a terrible ordeal for you. We have been sick with worry, but it's over
and you are back here where you belong." He stroked her head and placed
his forefinger on her lips when she made to speak. "Now, the doctor has
given you a draught to calm your nerves and help you to sleep. In the morning
when you are feeling better we can talk about what has happened."

"He was trying to
look under my shift!" she blurted out angrily.

Branwilde glanced swiftly
at his wife who nodded. "He was only checking to see if everything
was...intact," Dierdre said primly.

"You see," he
murmured, "he was not trying to do you any harm. He only wanted to help
you."

"By looking up my
shift?" she asked incredulously. "What do you mean by ‘everything
intact?’" She looked from one parent to another in bewilderment.

Her father averted his
face as his wife replied in a voice edged with exasperation, "To see if
you were still a virgin or not."

Angharad pushed herself
to her feet. Clutching her shawl about her she cried out, "Why does he
have to know that? I told you that it was my choice to leave with Daffyd, there
was no force or coercion involved. I was not raped. Didn't you read my
note?"

Branwilde looked in
puzzlement at Dierdre. "Did you find a letter?"

"There was no
note," she answered coolly. "I think my dear, that your nerves have
been greatly overwrought and that you are not yourself. Go to bed now and we
will talk again in the morning."

"I tell you there
was a note! I placed it on my bed before I left. It explained what I was doing
and why I was doing it. Surely it could not have been lost!" She stood
biting her lower lip in frustration and staring down at her feet.

"Go to bed
now," her mother said again, outwardly unruffled by her daughter's
display. The duchess clapped her hands and two of her maids appeared in the
doorway.

Worn-out, Angharad's
body responded to the suggestion and she moved towards the door with a dragging
step. Turning at the door, she asked her father, "What's to become of
Daffyd?"

His face grew harsher
then she had ever seen it and she felt her knees weaken before his gaze.
"He will be dealt with as befits his crime. Now do as your mother says and
go to bed."

"But he did
nothing wrong!" she wailed as the two maids politely but firmly took hold
of her.

"Go to bed at
once, Angharad!" He spoke in a tone that accepted no opposition and, with
the effects of her journey and the medicinal draught working against her,
Angharad was compelled to stumble to her room in the arms of her attendants.

After she had left,
Dierdre sat down opposite Branwilde and gazed at him inquiringly. Her outward
form was composed, but there was a glittering quality to her eyes that he
rarely saw except when she was intensely angry or perturbed. He drummed his
fingers restlessly on a nearby table while considering his next moves. The
initial relief of having his daughter back had passed, replaced with a need for
vengeance against the man who tried to take her and shock at his daughter's
statements indicating her complicity.

"I will have him
hanged," he hissed at last.

"Yes," his
wife agreed, "but what of her?" She was tapping her white fingers on
the edge of the chair in a way that let her husband know how extremely agitated
she was.

He shook his head.
"She needs time to rest but she will recover. I don't think she suffered
much damage."

Dierdre's mouth thinned
to a disapproving line. "The doctor will determine that eventually. What I
was referring to was the reason she came with us to Pentarin. Even if she has
been," she continued delicately, "untouched, the scandal of the
situation will hang over her. I do not think that there will be any acceptable
offers while we remain here."

Branwilde sighed and
nodded. "You are quite right; her chances for a suitable match will be
much reduced, especially if it is suspected that she went with him of her own
accord." He peered closely at Dierdre, "Do you think that she really
eloped with him?"

"It is a
possibility," she replied evenly. "They were very friendly together
when he was in Gwenth. That is why I ordered him to leave, to forestall any
inappropriate attachment. But it does not seem to have helped."

Both the duke and his duchess
were people who were content to live their lives according to the social
conventions of their class. People, at least those of noble birth, were
betrothed to gain land or create family alliances, settle disputes, or
consolidate interests, but not to satisfy the whims of individual fancy.
Dierdre had only seen Branwilde a few times before she was informed that her
parents had signed a marriage contract and she was sent to marry him. She had
not particularly liked or disliked him, but she knew that her duty lay in
accommodating him: being a worthy duchess to a Great House, smoothly ordering
the affairs of his castle and producing sufficient heirs to ensure the future
of the House. She had fulfilled her duty admirably and expected no less from
her daughter.

Angharad's behavior
grieved and appalled her mother. When she had first noticed Angharad's
imprudent liking for her music instructor, though she had dismissed it as the
folly of a young girl she had also determined that the girl was of sufficient
age and attainment to be married. Thus it was that she had brought Angharad to
Pentarin with the specific task of finding a suitable husband among the
gathered nobles. She had not even begun her campaign for a son-in-law before it
was brought to naught by her daughter's senseless behaviour. Dierdre had indeed
found the insolent note that told her of Angharad's ingratitude and imprudence,
but had destroyed it before anyone else could know of it. Determining that no
one should know of her daughter's betrayal of parents and birthright, she began
to formulate a plan by which something could be salvaged from the wreck
Angharad had caused.

"I think that it
would be most judicious if I returned straight-away to Gwenth with
Angharad," she told her husband. "It is obvious that staying here can
bring no good to her, and might increase the harm."

"There will still
be talk," he said gloomily.

"Talk will die
down after awhile. Everyone is very involved with this journey of Hollin's and
the eventual return of Prince Brian. When we are gone, people will forget about
this unfortunate incident and in a few months, a year at the most, we can again
consider proposals."

Branwilde snorted
derisively and Dierdre had to school her face not to betray her irritation with
his response. "Proposals, hah! I swear I will kill that bastard with my
own hands!"

"She is still the
daughter of a duke. She may not make as brilliant a match as she could have
before this, but she will be married and married well." The firmness of
voice and chin arrested Branwilde's attention and he stopped to truly consider
what she had said.

"All right, take
her away with you if you think it judicious, but I will have my vengeance on
him! In the meantime, Angharad is to be kept safely locked up until we find a
husband for her."

After he left, Dierdre
issued orders to begin packing in the morning so that they might leave by the
next afternoon.

Chapter
7

By the feeble light of
an inadequate air shaft, Daffyd ap Blewyns surveyed the moist, dark walls of
his cell. A chain, bolted into the wall behind him, was attached to the heavy
leather collar that encircled his neck. Another short chain fettered his ankles
together. Movement of any kind was slow and painful, so he stood with his back
supported by the wall and tried not to notice the rustling sounds coming from
the straw on the floor near his feet.