Chapter Eighteen

He didn’t even recognize him anymore.

Jerome had been sitting with his son in the vault, the same vault where Raymond had been killed hours earlier. He was staring at the man who had been his only family since the death of his wife. Staring at the tattered remnants of the life he’d known and facing the cloudy facets of a future he hadn’t been expecting. Raymond had been dead for several hours and had turned into a gross caricature of what he used to be in life. A gross caricature of what Jerome’s life had now become, something strange and misshapen.

This nightmare he found himself a part of.

A nightmare with no end in sight. The alcohol that Jerome had imbibed the night before had mostly worn off by the time the sun began to rise, but death was, in and of itself, a sobering experience. Now, he had a sober, shattered mind that reflected what had happened and what he needed to do.

His son had been murdered.

He wasn’t leaving Axminster without satisfaction.

Raymond had attacked a young woman, he’d been told. The same young woman that had been Raymond’s target during his years at Axminster. A young woman who had evidently played games with Raymond, telling others that she was eager to see him and then, when he made advances, she retreated. At least, that was part of what Jerome had heard, rumors once the news of Raymond’s death had started to spread, but the truth was that both Raymond and the young lady he attacked had been manipulated by another young woman who evidently had a vendetta.

Truthfully, Jerome was in shock. He felt as if he wasn’t living in the real world. He’d sat for hours staring at his son’s body, dumbfounded by what had happened, but that daze had given way to anger—anger great enough to make threats of punishment against those responsible. Douglas de Lohr, the son of the Earl of Hereford and Worcester, had killed his son in defense of this young woman. It was complex and convoluted, but the one thing that wasn’t complex or convoluted was the fact that Raymond had died.

It was the only thing that was crystal clear.

And Jerome was going to exact his pound of flesh.

He had been stewing on it for several hours. He had threatened to march on Lioncross Abbey Castle, seat of the Earl of Hereford in Worcester, but that was the grieving father talking. De Honiton had a decent-sized army, but it would be no match for Hereford’s. Even he knew that. Therefore, armed conflict was not the answer.

But he knew what was.

He knew where the pound of flesh would come from.

Ultimately, the situation was Lady Isabel’s fault. This was her castle and anything that happened here was her responsibility. As the sun rose over the bucolic Devon landscape, Jerome knew what he had to do. He knew what he wanted to do. He’d lost his son this night. Nothing could bring Raymond back, but those responsible were going to pay dearly.

That very price was on his mind as he made his way out of the vault and to the entry level of the keep. Lady Isabel’s solar was just off the entry and he knew she, and her knights, had been there for quite some time. As far as Jerome was concerned, they were all afraid to face him, afraid to admit their failings. No one stopped him as he entered the keep and went to the solar door. He went to open it, but someone opened it from the inside and he abruptly found himself face to face with Douglas de Lohr.

He’d never felt more contempt for a man in his life.

“Get out of my way,” he growled. “Where is Lady Isabel?”

“Here,” Isabel said. Hearing the man’s voice, she’d leapt out of her chair to face him. “Please come in, Lord de Honiton.”

Douglas stood aside as de Honiton entered, but de Honiton couldn’t help but ball a fist as he walked past the knight. He lifted his hand to strike Douglas in the face, but Douglas grabbed the man’s hand purely out of reflex and nearly crushed it. Jerome cried out in pain as Douglas clamped down.

“Douglas, release him,” Isabel commanded. “Please—let him go.”

Douglas did, but he pushed at the same time, thrusting Jerome nearly halfway across the room.

“Consider that a warning, my lord,” he said in a decidedly threatening tone.

And Jerome took it for a warning. He stumbled over a chair and ended up leaning over it as he pointed at Douglas.

“He has killed my son and now he threatens to kill me!” he said. “I do not know what animosity this man has against me, but I demand protection!”

Isabel went to Jerome as Eric went over to Douglas, not to protect Douglas but to prevent him from charging de Honiton if the situation grew physical.

Isabel was focused on the brittle man.

“Lord de Honiton, I assure you that Douglas has no vendetta against you,” she said evenly. “But he will not allow you to strike him. You will behave civilly in my solar.”

Jerome’s expression cooled. He looked between Isabel and Douglas and even Eric, his gaze jerky, his body quivering.

“I see,” he said after a moment. “My son is dead and all you can speak of is behaving civilly. Where is the outrage that my son was uncivilly killed in your castle?”

Isabel could see a grieving father before her, but it seemed to her that there was more to it. Jerome seemed slightly off beyond the normal burden of grief. It was in his eyes, in his movements. There was no reason here, no balance.

Something told her to be on her guard.

“I have repeatedly conveyed my condolences for this unhappy situation,” she said. “But I have also explained to you that your son was attacking a young woman—most brutally, I might add. What did you expect? That he would simply be allowed to do as he pleased and harm a young woman who was resisting his advances?”

Jerome’s eyes widened. “A whore who teased him!”

“An innocent young woman who was wrongfully accused of such a thing,” Isabel replied firmly. “I have told you that this situation was manipulated by another girl out of jealousy. Your son happened to be a tool she used and nothing more, but what she did not force him to do—what no one forced him to do—was brutally attack a young woman who had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.”

Jerome began to look at all three of them again, his eyes darting from one to the next. He stood up from his position against the chair, backing away as he pointed to the occupants of the chamber.

“I may not be as powerful as de Lohr, but I have friends and allies, too,” he said. “Mayhap I cannot raze Lioncross, but I can create such havoc as you cannot possibly imagine. I can have archers anywhere, striking at your fathers and brothers and children. I can send men to ravage your women and burn your villages. I can make it so that you are looking over your shoulder every day for the rest of your life, wondering when I am going to strike next and who shall be my next victim. You are responsible for this, Lady Isabel, and I swear upon my son’s dead body that Axminster shall never be safe again. I will do these things unless I have satisfaction!”

He was shouting by the time he finished, shaking his finger at Douglas, at Eric, and even at Isabel. Douglas was preparing to launch a verbal assault against the man, but Isabel lifted her hand to him, indicating he keep still. She had been the mistress of Axminster for many years.

She was going to handle this.

“May I ask what satisfaction you require?” she asked.

Jerome’s eyes fixed on her. “I am not a fool,” he said. “I can demand you turn de Lohr over to me, but I know you will not. Even if you did, his father would get involved and my entire family line would be destroyed. But the truth is that my family line is already destroyed. Stolen away from me when de Lohr killed my son. He took away my lineage. I have no more. But I want more. That which I have lost must be replaced.”

Isabel wasn’t following his train of thought. “How can it be replaced?”

Jerome seemed to cool again. His face relaxed, or perhaps it simply morphed into an expression that was a harbinger of things to come. There was something flickering in his gaze.

Something unsavory.

Now, the lack of reason and balance would be revealed.

“The girl my son has allegedly attacked,” he said. “Who is she?”

Isabel frowned. “Allegedly?” she repeated. “I will let you see her. You will see the bruises and cuts upon her person and the lump on her head the size of hen’s egg. There was no alleged attack, my lord. Your son most definitely attacked her and there is proof.”

“Who is the girl?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Tell me and I will answer you.”

“Answer me now and I will tell you.”

Jerome stamped his foot violently. “You will tell me what I wish to know!”

Suddenly, Douglas was between Isabel and Jerome, his hulking presence filling up the air. “If you do not speak politely to the lady of the keep, I will throw you from the window,” he growled. “Grief does not give you the right to command Lady Isabel.”

Jerome was both frightened and enraged. “You will not make demands of me, de Lohr!” he shouted. “You are a murderer!”

“And your son was a motherless deformity with the moral values of a goat.”

Jerome picked up the chair with the intention of throwing at Douglas, but Douglas yanked it out of the man’s hands and tossed it aside, leaving no barrier between him and Jerome. If Douglas charged, there was nothing to stop him. As Isabel swiftly grabbed Douglas’ arm and tried to pull him back, Douglas jabbed a finger at Jerome.

“Do that again and you can join your son in hell,” he snarled. “I will not warn you again.”

Eric had to help Isabel pull Douglas away from the confrontation. He had both hands on Douglas, dragging him away, as Isabel faced Jerome.

“You are fortunate that I do not let Douglas loose on you,” she said, her patience in the situation waning. “Tell me what you want and be done with it.”

Jerome eyed Douglas furiously but wisely refrained from baiting the man. His focus turned to Isabel.

“I want the girl who had my son’s attention,” he said. “Raymond was of marriageable age. It is very possible he would have married her because he has been attracted to her since they were young. It is the same girl, is it not? I have forgotten her name over the years. Mary, I believe. In any case, because of her, my son is dead. I will marry her and she will give me another son to replace the one she took from me.”

It was a horrifying suggestion. Isabel visibly gasped but didn’t dare look at Douglas, fearful he might see her moment of shock and charge Jerome once and for all. If that happened, she knew she couldn’t stop him.

She didn’t want to.

Still, she held her ground.

“Impossible,” she said. “That young woman is already spoken for.”

That wasn’t the answer Jerome wanted. “To whom?” he demanded. “Tell me this instant! If she… Wait. She is pledged, you say?”

“Aye.”

“A man who would not have taken kindly to my son’s advances?”

“No man would wish to see his intended preyed upon by another.”

Jerome’s attention moved to Douglas. “And she was defended by this man who killed my son on her behalf?” he said in a shocking bit of astute logic. “Then he was not killed because the lady was defending herself. He was killed in punishment for being attracted to her!”

As Douglas remained surprisingly emotionless, Isabel tried to divert Jerome’s trail of logic. “What makes you say that?” she said. “She could be pledged to anyone in England. Douglas was… He would have defended any woman being attacked. That does not mean they are pledged.”

“Untrue!” Jerome said, his eyes wide and wild as realization dawned. “A man only kills when emotion or fear are involved. De Lohr was not afraid of my son, so it must have been because he was protecting something important to him. Why else should he kill?”

“He killed because your son tried to kill a woman,” Isabel said angrily. “He did the right and true thing. Had you raise your son properly, we would not be having this conversation!”

Jerome was back to being furious. “I want that girl,” he said again. “Bring her to me or I will tear this place apart looking for her.”

“Douglas and Eric and the knights in the hall will stop you.”

“Then provide me with a suitable replacement or my campaign of terror against Axminster and all who live here will never end,” he cried. “Give me another girl!”

“I will not give you any of my young women.”

“You must!” Jerome demanded. “This is your fault, Lady Isabel. Your fault that my son is dead. Your fault that there is such turmoil. And do not think I didn’t hear about Tatworth attacking Axminster those months ago. Of course I heard. All because of you. I will, therefore, say again—give me a woman to continue my family line because it is your obligation. Give me justice!”

His shouting had reverberated off the walls, now abruptly still except for his heavy breathing. Isabel was still staring at him, watching every move he made and knowing he meant every threat that had pealed out of his mouth. The problem was that he was right—this was her fault. All of it. Raymond’s death had happened at Axminster, and as it was her domain, she was responsible.

That was the sickening truth.

If Jerome harassed Axminster, it would be her fault. If he attacked Lioncross, it would also be her fault. All roads led to Isabel, and the longer she thought on it, the more she knew that she, and only she, should be the one to make amends.

There was no other choice.

“Eric,” she finally said. “Remove Douglas from the chamber. You go with him.”

Eric, still holding on to Douglas, looked at her in concern. “My lady…”

“Please,” she said. “Wait outside. If you hear violence, you may enter, but only in that instance. Otherwise, you will stay outside until I open the door.”

Eric didn’t want to go. He looked at Douglas, who was looking at him for direction. If Eric obeyed, Douglas would. If Eric didn’t, then neither would Douglas. Neither one of them wanted to leave Isabel alone with Jerome, but ultimately, she was the Lady of Axminster. They were bound to obey her orders.

Especially Eric.

All he ever did was obey her orders.

“Very well,” he said reluctantly. “But we shall be outside the door if needed.”

Isabel simply waved them on. When both knights were through the door and the panel was shut, Isabel indicated for Jerome to sit in the nearest chair.

“Sit down,” she said quietly. “I wish to speak to you about this and we will do it calmly, just the two of us, without any swords or enormous knights hanging about. Agreed?”

Jerome seemed to relax a little now that Douglas was out of the chamber. “As you wish,” he said, claiming the chair. “But I will not change my mind. I must have justice, and the only way to accomplish that is for you to give me what I want so that I may have another son to continue my lineage. That is only fair.”

Isabel sat down in a chair a few feet away. “I understand that you are grieving,” she said. “What happened is a terrible shock. But don’t you think your demands are hasty? Should you not have time to grieve before you make such a decision?”

Jerome shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I have been with Raymond since I was informed of his passing. He was my only child. If I am to admit it, he could be… difficult. You tried to purge him from Axminster because of his behavior. Kenilworth did the same.”

“I did not know that.”

Jerome sat back in his chair, vastly calmer than he had been. It was just him and Isabel, and truthfully, Jerome wasn’t confrontational by nature. He had a more reasonable personality than his son had, and last night he’d been quite amiable. But he was struggling with something that had upended his entire world and was so grieved that he was behaving irrationally, but deep down, something else was happening with him.

It was time for truth.

Ugly as it was.

Maybe if he told the truth, Isabel would be more apt to do as he wished.

“I will admit this to no one else, my lady, and if you repeat it, I will deny it,” he said. “But my son was not very likable. He was my son and I love him because he is my son, but sometimes, I did not like him. You were around him for years. You saw how he was.”

Isabel’s eyebrows rose. “Something you had denied to me,” she said. “When I wrote you about his behavior, you told me it was untrue.”

He nodded. “At the time, I believed it,” he said. “When Raymond left for Axminster, he did not have the naughty streak in him that you said he had. I assumed you were lying. But the master knights of Kenilworth had the same report, only worse.”

“Then they confirmed what I had been trying to tell you.”

Jerome nodded. Then his eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. “A father does not want to believe the worst about his son,” he said. “But he had gambling debts. And there were at least two young women he had forced himself upon. One conceived a child she later gave birth to and surrendered to a peasant family. I paid her family a great amount of money for her troubles.”

Isabel wasn’t entirely shocked to hear this, given her experience with Raymond. “You said your lineage had died out,” she said. “What about this child?”

“It is a girl. I do not want a girl.”

That explained it, a little. “I see,” she said. “So you want to marry again and have another son?”

He nodded. “As callous as this will sound, I do,” he said. “I will mourn Raymond. I will mourn the son I failed, because surely, I failed him or he would not have been the way he was. Don’t you see, Lady Isabel? This is another chance for me. In this tragedy, God has given me another chance to have a son who will honor the de Honiton name.”

Isabel thought that it was a strange way to deal with grief. Lost one son, then make another. The new son would ease the grief of the one lost. She’d seen that happen with widows—marrying again to ease the ache of losing a husband—but she’d never seen it done with children.

Still… Jerome seemed entirely serious.

“If that is true, then you will have to find a wife elsewhere,” Isabel said after a moment. “I cannot, and will not, provide you with one of the young ladies in my charge.”

Jerome looked at her. “And I meant what I said,” he said calmly. “If you do not give me one of them, I will do as I must. You will not know a moment’s peace. Nor will de Lohr. I do not care if his father is more powerful than God. I will make it so he is hunted and hounded every day for the rest of his life. And Axminster will never be safe. Not you, not your wards, nor your vassals. It will be my life’s work to see you ruined.”

He said it as if discussing nothing more important than the weather. Isabel couldn’t imagine that he was bluffing. He seemed quite sane and, in his own words, his lineage was finished. He had nothing to lose by harassing Axminster. The implications were great because if he carried through on his threat, she had everything to lose.

At this moment, noble families paid well for their daughters to be educated by Lady Isabel. It was considered prestigious. But if Axminster was not a peaceful place, courtesy of de Honiton and his grudge, then families would choose not to send their daughters there. Not if they knew the girls would be in danger. That would reflect poorly on Isabel and, eventually, she would lose what was a lucrative source of income. Her reputation would be in tatters. All because Raymond de Honiton couldn’t control himself. Therefore, she had some horrific choices to make.

Give Jerome what he wanted… or face ruin.

He wanted Mira. Isabel knew that wasn’t going to happen. That left Davina, Helen, or even Astoria because they were of marriageable age, but she didn’t have the authority to promise them to Jerome. The girls all had families who had that power. The only power Isabel had was over Mira or…

God help her.

There was one other.

It was all she had left to bargain with.

“Then I will make a proposal,” she said. “You have asked for a girl under my guardianship, but I cannot give this to you because although I am their guardian, their families alone have the authority to broker a marriage. I do not have that power. What I do have, however, is the power to offer you the Earldom of Axminster in exchange for peace. I am not beyond childbearing age and this could be a business arrangement and nothing more. Moreover, it would unite Axminster and de Honiton and create a large empire. Life at Axminster can continue as it has, with me at the helm, and you may live at de Honiton and continue your life as it is. As your wife, I will bear children for you and, God willing, a son. A son with de Kerrington blood who will inherit Axminster from you. This is a powerful offer I give you, Jerome. Consider it.”

Jerome’s eyes widened. “Axminster?” he repeated. “You… you will marry me and give me Axminster?”

“Axminster will go to our children.”

He blinked, startled, as if he still couldn’t believe the offer. He looked her over, from her feet to the top of her wimpled head, and began to nod.

“A striking offer, my lady,” he said. “You are a handsome woman, to be sure. A reasonable woman. But how old are you?”

That was a question Isabel didn’t like to be asked, but she supposed he had a right to know.

“I have seen forty years,” she said. “As I said, my childbearing days are not over, but the older I become, the more they wane. If we are to marry and have a son together, it must be soon. But surely a wife of my experience and wealth will be much better than a silly young girl. You want a wife with wisdom, do you not?”

For the first time since he entered the solar, Jerome’s mood seemed to improve. He was no longer shouting or demanding. His features weren’t tight with grief and rage. He seemed… pleased. His expression lightened as he realized what a truly generous offer she was giving him.

“Your wisdom is unmatched, my lady,” he said. “You do not have to extol your virtues, for I am aware of them. And your offer is quite astonishing. I would be a fool to decline.”

“And you will leave Axminster in peace?”

“I will leave everyone in peace if your offer is true.”

That was all Isabel needed to hear. “It is true,” she said. “I will have my clerk draw up a contract, but you will let me announce it, please. I do ask for that privilege.”

“You may have it.”

Silence fell between them, a strange sort of void. Jerome was feeing some joy at being the next Earl of Axminster while Isabel was feeling lost and empty.

Dead inside.

But she did what she had to do.

“Then let us make arrangements to send Raymond home for burial,” she said, trying to focus on what needed to be done and not the sense of regret that was trying to sweep her. “We may be married once he has been put to rest, if that is acceptable to you.”

Jerome nodded, sensing that the conversation was over for now. He couldn’t help but notice that Isabel didn’t seem entirely thrilled by something she’d proposed, but he knew why she’d done it. She wanted peace at Axminster, and sometimes peace was made in such ways.

He didn’t feel guilty in the least.

“It is acceptable,” he said, rising from the chair. “You have made a wise decision this day, my lady. It will ensure that both of our families continue, since you are the last of your line as well. The de Kerrington name and the de Honiton name will create a family of wealth and power. You should be proud.”

Isabel could hear the gloat in his voice and it made her sick to her stomach. It was a wise decision for him, but it was the only choice for her.

She had no idea what she was going to tell Eric.

“We shall see,” she said. “You may go now, my lord. Make your arrangements. And remember that you are not to announce our agreement until I do.”

With a nod of his head, Jerome went to the solar door and opened it to find four knights standing outside in various positions around the entry. Four sets of eyes turned to him as he exited, but Jerome didn’t give them another look.

All except for Douglas.

He focused on Douglas and, at the risk of breaking his word to Isabel, went to the man. For a moment, he simply looked at him, this blond brute who had killed his son. But, perhaps in hindsight, Raymond’s death was the catalyst for bigger and better things.

He tried to focus on the positive.

“You should be grateful,” he muttered to Douglas. “She paid for your sins.”

With that, he turned and left the keep, leaving Douglas standing there with his brow furrowed, wondering what in the hell he meant. Greatly concerned, he went to the solar door only to see Isabel sitting by the window, sobbing into her hand.

Whatever it was… it must have cost her greatly.

“My God,” Douglas breathed. “What did she do?”

Eric was standing beside him, pale and distressed at the sight of his love in tears. If she was weeping and Jerome was calm, it must have been something serious, indeed.

“Go,” Eric said to Douglas. “Go and see to Mira. I will see to Isabel.”

He started to push past Douglas, but Douglas wouldn’t let him go so easily. “Should I remain here in case you have need of me?” he asked. “Mira is sleeping. There is nothing I can do for her now. But Lady Isabel…”

Eric shook his head. “Nay, Douglas,” he said. “You are a good friend, but I will see to Isabel now. I will send word if I have need of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. Go to Mira now.”

With that, he closed the door in Douglas’ face, leaving him puzzled as well as apprehensive. One of the strongest women he’d ever known was weeping, broken, and he wanted to know why. He wanted to know why Jerome had made that comment to him.

She paid for your sins.

God help him, the more he thought about it, the more apprehensive he became.