Christopher, normally a neutral man, couldn’t temper his reaction. His eyes bugged. “FitzRoy?” he hissed. “He has lost his damnable mind if he thinks I’ll ever consent to a marriage between Christin and his bastard!”
Peter held up a hand. “I know,” he said. “We all know. But Sean had a plan and we put it into action last night at the feast when Christin dined with John. Sean’s plan was for Christin to behave horribly – he told her to drink, to belch, to behave like a base-born chit because John cannot stand women like that. He prefers his women well-bred and lovely and obedient, and Christin was anything but. Papa, you should have seen her – I have never seen anything like it in my life.”
They were all hanging on Peter’s every word. Christopher was close to exploding. “What happened?” he demanded.
Peter started to grin. “She pretended to be drunk,” he said. “She chatted so much that John couldn’t get a word in, she chewed like a common man, belched like a knight on a three-day drinking binge, ended up vomiting at one point, and then she got into a fight with a serving wench. It was brilliant, Papa, all of it. We’ve not yet seen John this morning and he has stayed far away from Cissy. If she wanted to discourage him, I think she did.”
Christopher was still vastly upset but listening to his son tell the tale had him envisioning his beautiful, well-mannered daughter as she acted the part of a fool. He almost wished he’d been there to see it.
“Christ,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his face. “She really did that?”
“She did,” Peter said. “Sean thought it was better to discourage the king than to run from him. The more she would run, the more obsessed he would be. But if she proved herself undesirable…”
“Then John would put her out of his mind,” Christopher finished for him, seeing the logic. Forcing himself to calm, he sighed heavily. “Cissy always was a bit of performer. Thank God she had the wherewithal to listen to Sean. Let us hope it throws John off her scent for good.”
“I would not be too sure,” William said quietly. When everyone turned to look at him, he simply lifted his shoulders. “John does not discourage so easily, especially if he believes the prize outweighs the negative aspects. To marry his son to a de Lohr… that would be a triumph for him and a defeat for you, Chris. I would not trust that your daughter’s bad behavior has destroyed his aspirations.”
Christopher pondered that for a moment. “I suppose not,” he said. “I have been doing battle against John for over twenty years. I know what the man is capable of, better than most. But Christin won the first battle. Let us see if we can win the war because there is no possibility John will ever have Cissy for his son. None at all.”
William nodded faintly. “He would use your daughter against you,” he said. “To ensure your neutrality in any movement against him, he would use her. Chris, you need to remove her from Norwich immediately. Take her back to Lioncross and keep her there. We cannot take the chance. Meanwhile, we are still dealing with a threat from within but it would seem that we have two fronts to this situation – John’s interest in Christin de Lohr and an unnamed threat against John.”
It was a portentous observation because it was entirely true. As the reality of the situation began to settle, the men looked to one another, understanding the irony of the circumstances they found themselves in. While they were trying to protect a king, he was trying to subvert one of their own.
The power struggle between John and William Marshal was real. Remove de Lohr and a good portion of The Marshal’s power would be neutralized.
It was something that could not happen.
“What would you have Kress and I do, my lord?” Maxton asked. “Since we were the ones who interrogated Lord Prescombe, I feel as if we should focus on the unnamed threat. Would you agree?”
William nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Caius, you work with them. They will inform you of everything you need to know. Meanwhile, Christopher and David and Peter will work to remove Christin from Norwich.”
“Sherry, Bric, and Kevin are at Norwich, too,” Peter reminded him. “They are ready to do your bidding.”
William’s gaze trailed to the massive square keep before him. He found himself shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked at it. “Then find them,” he told Peter. “Gather them. I would meet with all of my men when I arrive so we may make the appropriate plans.”
Peter nodded, spurring his horse forward and thundering back towards the castle. Christopher watched him go, unable to fight off the powerful sense of trepidation he was feeling. John had always had an attraction to the de Lohr women; first Dustin, now Dustin’s daughter.
It made Christopher ill simply to think on it.
Christin married to Robert FitzRoy…
Over his dead body.
“Cissy?” Wynter’s head peeked in her chamber door. “Someone is here to see you this morning.”
Christin was sitting by the hearth, drying out the hair she’d just washed because it had food and vomit it in from the previous night. In fact, she’d just finished a bath where she’d scrubbed herself from head to toe, washing away the wine stains and the cow dung. Combing the ends of her dark, nearly-dry hair, she glanced up at Wynter.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“He says to tell you that Sherry has come to speak to you.”
That had Christin on her feet. Suddenly, she was quite eager to see who had come calling for her but she wasn’t dressed for it. Quickly, she shirked her dressing robe, one made from heavy brocade, and dressed in a linen gown that was heavy in fabric, yet simple but lovely.
Wynter rushed into the chamber to help her, taking the comb and plaiting her hair into a braid that draped gracefully over one shoulder as Christin tied up the front of her bodice. She looked quite lovely and angelic in the simple linen that emphasized her curvy figure. She was petite and big-chested like her mother, which gave her a pleasingly round silhouette. Pulling on her slippers, she dashed from the chamber and headed down the stairs.
Alexander was standing in the doorway of the apartment building, smiling faintly at her as she came down the stairs far too quickly.
“Careful, my lady,” he said, drinking in the sight of her. “It would not do to survive the king and then break your neck on the stairs.”
Christin smiled at him, her face positively aglow. “I did survive the king,” she said quietly. “I hope my performance did not change your mind about me.”
He grinned, full-on, and began to clap his hands slowly. The applause echoed off the stone. “Brilliant,” he said. “Positively one of the most brilliant things I have ever seen. If I was not already fond of you, last night’s entertainment alone would have had me begging for a lock of your hair.”
She smiled bashfully. “You would not have to beg, I assure you.”
Alexander was quite certain he’d not smiled so much in years. “Truly?” he said. “If I ask you for a lock now, will you give me one?”
“Without hesitation.”
He laughed softly. But all the while, his eyes were riveted to her as if he could look at nothing else. “Astonishing,” he murmured. “You, dear lady, are astonishing. Will you walk with me this morn?”