‘The king himself has approved Lady Rowena’s desire to enter the convent,’ Eric said, mildly.
‘Well, I am her father and I do not. Stop quibbling, de Monfort. Get her out of St Mary’s and get her to marry you. I don’t care how you do it, just do it. It might inspire you if you tell yourself that when I die, you will be Count of Sainte-Colombe.’
‘I am truly sorry to disappoint you, my lord, but I will not do it. It simply would not be the act of an honourable knight.’
‘Eric, we chose you because we recalled that as a child you were kind to my daughter.’
We? So Lady Barbara was in on this ridiculous plan, was she? Eric felt a muscle flicker in his jaw. ‘As I recall, my lord, you warned me about being over-familiar. In fact, you forbade me to speak to her.’
Lady Barbara’s needle stilled. ‘Sir, you are referring to the time when you and Rowena were found in the plum tree. You must forgive my husband for that. He tends to be over-protective and hasty in his judgements. And you must not forget that you were, at the time, young and untried. You were unproven.’
‘And now I have won a manor and a few acres you consider me proven?’
Lord Faramus looked him straight in the eye. ‘De Monfort, I trained you myself, I know you are an honourable man.’
‘What you ask me to do is dishonourable!’
Lady Barbara made a sharp movement. ‘Please, sir, you have to help us.’
‘My lady, I am sorry, I will not do it.’
The count’s shoulders sagged. ‘Very well, de Monfort, you may leave.’ He waved a curt dismissal. ‘On your way out, send Sir Breon up.’
Lady Barbara’s eyes filled with anxiety. The knot twisted in Eric’s stomach. What would happen next? Telling himself it was none of his business, Eric was halfway to the door when he remembered Macaire muttering about how it would be a travesty if Sir Breon went up to the solar. Obviously, Macaire must be aware that the count was determined to get his daughter out of the abbey and he didn’t like the idea of her being handed over to Sir Breon.
Lady Rowena’s face as Eric had last seen it, beautiful in its innocence, flashed into his mind. The idea of that sweet child being forced in to Sir Breon’s company—for life—was utterly repugnant. Eric had always had the impression that she was afraid of the man. Lord, his stomach turned at the thought. That child with that lout...it simply would not do.
Sir Breon might refuse to agree. He might.
Briefly, Eric closed his eyes. He was deluding himself, there was no way that Sir Breon would turn down the chance to wed the heiress to the Sainte-Colombe acres.
Lady Rowena, that lovely girl, forced into marriage with Sir Breon?
Rather me than him.
Eric stopped in his tracks, turned and looked intently at his former lord. ‘You would foist Sir Breon on Lady Rowena?’
‘Since you are clearly not the man I took you for, yes. Sir Breon knows where his loyalties lie. I feel confident that he will be less of a disappointment.’
‘My lord, you cannot be serious.’
Lord Faramus glowered. ‘Someone has to marry her. I’ll be damned before I see my lands fall into Armand’s hands.’
‘Armand?’
‘Sir Armand de Velay, a distant cousin.’
Eric was beginning to understand. With the count’s only child taking the veil, the County of Sainte-Colombe would fall into this cousin’s hands. Unless Rowena married.
‘My lord.’ Eric forced himself to speak calmly. ‘It is natural for a man to want his lands to go to his child, but I cannot think that force is the way to achieve it.’
Lord Faramus’s mouth thinned. ‘Do you think we haven’t tried persuasion? Rowena is the most stubborn wench in Christendom. She will not see reason.’
Eric had never seen Lady Rowena’s stubborn side. It came to him that even if she were stubborn she was only taking after her sire. Wisely, he held his tongue on that score, saying merely, ‘My lord, in my view Lady Rowena mislikes Sir Breon.’
Lord Faramus lifted an eyebrow. ‘So? Sir Breon will get her agreement.’
Eric shook his head, frowning. ‘Aye, he probably will, Sir Breon is not a gentle man. My lord, have you thought about the methods he might use to persuade her?’
‘Sir Breon will do my will. Send him in.’
‘Mon seigneur, Lady Rowena wants to become a nun.’
‘Tant pis. She will marry one way or the other.’ With a sigh, Lord Faramus clapped Eric on the shoulder. ‘No hard feelings, de Monfort, I won’t hold this against you.’
‘Wait.’ Eric put up his hand. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of Sir Breon forcing himself on Lady Rowena was unbearable. Naturally, the thought of one day being count of Sainte-Colombe was tempting, but it was the thought of Lady Rowena in Breon’s hands that pushed him to accept. ‘I’ll do it.’
Lady Barbara gave him the tiniest of smiles. If Eric had blinked he’d have missed it. Oddly, her smile gave him heart. It made him realise that he was her choice, Lady Barbara wanted him for her daughter. Lord knew Eric had never looked to force any woman into marriage, let alone Lady Rowena, but if he didn’t agree then Sir Breon surely would. Eric must spare her that.
The count’s eyes glittered. ‘You agree?’
‘Aye.’ Eric thought fast. Agreement would buy time. Clearly, Lord Faramus hadn’t had time to accept Lady Rowena’s decision to enter the convent. That much was understandable, the realisation that his cousin would inherit his lands rather than his daughter must be hard to swallow. Given more time, Lord Faramus would surely come to his senses.
Eric had to admit it was flattering to think that Lord Faramus and Lady Barbara had chosen to put their extraordinary proposal to him first. It showed a measure of trust. Of approval. Lord Faramus was a hard man, hard and determined, but he must love his daughter.
And there sat Lady Barbara, smiling that small smile. Eric looked directly at her. ‘I will keep your daughter safe,’ he said. He wouldn’t marry her though, he couldn’t. It would be sacrilege to come between Lady Rowena and her calling.
‘I know,’ Lady Barbara murmured.
‘I am not sure she will remember me.’
‘She will.’ Lady Barbara bent over her sewing.
Yes, if Eric kidnapped Lady Rowena, he could keep her safe. And then, when Lord Faramus came to his senses, he would return her to the abbey. Count Faramus must see reason in the end. Even a great lord like him couldn’t force the king’s goddaughter into marriage.
‘I’ll do it, on these terms,’ Eric said. ‘I’ll not hurt her. And I want your word that you will not meddle.’
Lord Faramus stroked his beard. There was a pause. ‘Yes, yes, I shall leave everything in your hands.’
With a bow, Eric left the solar.
As the door swung shut behind him, Lady Barbara set her sewing aside. ‘I told you he’d agree.’
‘He had me worried for a while. Rowena is a stubborn wench, but God knows I wouldn’t wish Breon on her.’
‘I wouldn’t wish Sir Breon on any woman,’ Lady Barbara said drily. ‘I knew Sir Eric would agree if faced with that. He has a kind heart.’
‘It’s nothing to do with his heart, orphans always make the best recruits.’
‘Faramus!’
‘Don’t