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De Longley passed a glance at Paris. “Get out of here. This does not concern you.”
Paris fled, leaving William bewildered and off-balance. He continued to stare into de Longley’s small brown eyes, hoping to regain his composure before the next barrage.
“My lord….,” he started hoarsely.
“Nay, William, allow me to finish,” the earl said, and waved at him. “You see, I was a fool. I should have realized from the very first day that you were in love with her, but I…I simply overlooked the fact. The very night I informed you of the king’s directive, while in my bower, I remember distinctly the look that came to your eyes when you spoke of your angel of mercy. You have that same look in your eyes every time you look at her still. I should have listened to you when you spoke, William; not so much in your words, but in your tone. But I am an ignorant old man. I’d forgotten what it was like to be in love.”
William was reeling with disbelief. He felt horribly guilty and wildly relieved at the same time.
“You assumed all of this?” He still was not ready to admit anything until the earl asked it plainly of him.
“Assumed, yes, but I am not so stupid that I did not hear the rumors,” he replied. “Especially when Alexander was so free with his gossip. And this morn…well, I must say that I am ashamed of what I did. I guess I wanted to see her for myself, the prize that caused my William to deceive me. I listened to the gossip, lad, and I knew that although she left Langton a virgin, she no longer retained that distinction. She would not tell me that she was not a virgin and I suppose anger and curiosity forced me to see for myself. Yet for whatever the reasons, I must humbly beg your forgiveness. It was inexcusable.”
“You had every legal right to inspect your betrothed, sire,” William said calmly.
The earl slapped his hands on the desk, causing the parchment to rustle. “Damnation, William, stop being so evasive with me. I am trying to tell you that I am sorry and that if you wish to marry the lady, then I shall help you.”
William was dazed. The entire conversation had been too overwhelming to believe, but believe it he did. He knew the earl well enough to know he was not being deceived. If he were speaking the words, then they were sincere. There was no longer any reason why he should still deny the situation but it had become so much a part of him that he was unsure as to how to admit his sins.
“I did not enjoy misleading you, sire,” he whispered finally.
The earl visibly relaxed. Now that the words were spoken, it would be easier to deal with.
“I know, lad,” he said softly. “But the situation made it impossible to act in any other manner. What remains now is what you intend to do about it.”
He took a deep, cleansing breath. He was aware that he was feeling much lighter with his confession. “I want to marry her, of course. But what of the king and the treaty?”
The earl sat back in his chair. He looked thoughtful a moment before snorting. “I have gone for years without any major decisions to make. Now, I have two massive conclusions to reach all on the same day. I take it that returning Lady Jordan to Langton is out of the question?”
William grinned sheepishly. “That would be a fair statement.”
The earl nodded shortly. “Then that answer makes one decision for me. Now about the king and the treaty; I will have to work on that one.”
William nodded, feeling giddy with relief and exhaustion. The two men sat in silence for some time, each lost to his thoughts. William’s mind was reeling and he could not seem to hold one rational thought. Everything had changed now and he wasn’t sure how to feel about any of it.
Finally, he spoke. “Why would you do this for me, my lord?” he asked. “After a deception as great as this, I would expect swift retribution. Not your assistance.”
The earl smiled. “Because you are a son to me,” he said. “Were it in my power, I would pass the title and the fortress on to you. You are my pride, lad. Your reputation is mine. You are far more valuable to me than you can possibly know. This assistance, as you call it, is merely a small favor for the hundreds you have done for me. Besides, I have a feeling you would be with Lady Jordan, no matter what the cost, and I would hate to lose you to Ireland or France.” He sat forward with a knowing wink. “Furthermore, I would lose all of my knights. They would follow you rather than stay here and serve me.”
William gazed back in amazement; everything he had always known, the earl had known as well. He felt like a fool for underestimating the man.
“I am speechless, sire,” he admitted softly. “To thank you does not seem quite enough.”
“Do not thank me yet, lad,” the earl’s tone made him perk up. “We must still deal with the king. Your marriage to the lady must be kept from him, at least for the time being. But I suspect that in lieu of a believable explanation, I may very well have to proceed with some sort of ceremony with Lady Jordan at my side come tomorrow.”
“A mock wedding?” William asked, knowing the earl would be putting himself at great risk.
De Longley nodded quickly, his mind working rapidly. The man was a very cunning bureaucrat and knew what he could pull off and what he could not.
“The king has a tendency to doze during long ceremonies,” he said. “Mayhap if there is enough Latin and enough pomp, we can pull the wool over his eyes and he will sleep right through it. He will think he has attended a wedding when, in fact, he has simply attended an overly long mass.”
William wriggled his eyebrows. “That seems risky.”
“Indeed, but there is no choice.” The earl stood up and William followed. “For now, we have a real wedding to prepare for. I will leave you to tend to Lady Jordan and whoever else you decided must be made aware of the situation. I will summon the priest and make a sizable donation to his coffers for his silence and cooperation. I will send for you later.”
William could not help himself. He went down on one knee and kissed the man’s signet ring. “For as long as I live, my lord, I shall be your faithful servant. I owe you everything.”
De Longley looked at his dark head, at the man to whom he owed the very roof over his head. He bade him rise.
