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ChapterThirty
“You defy me at every turn, Roland.”
He was glad his mother took Amalia from the chamber. That his father made her shed even one tear took all of Roland’s patience.
“You raised me to become the next earl of de Vere,” he replied, his tone not holding back his anger. “A role that requires honor, integrity, and strength. I am no longer a boy who must be told what to think. I am a man led by ideals and will make decisions freely of my own volition.”
“This role”—his father remained calm, thankfully—“requires decisions to be made that ensure our family line continues. That our people are well taken care of. You spurn a woman whose union could have nearly doubled our land in favor of one who brings us nothing.”
Roland’s grip on his wine goblet tightened. “She brings me love, and for our people, a knowledge of herbs like none other. She will be an example to our children of fortitude and kindness.”
“Roland—”
“Nay, Father. I will not listen to Amalia’s character being slandered. She is good, and loyal, and loves me despite my reputation with women, despite any of those who would besmirch my name.”
That earned, if not a smile, less of a scowl from his father. “I fear your brother Geoffrey is attempting to follow you in every way, with women included.”
“I will speak to him.”
That time, his father actually laughed. “I would very much like to hear that conversation.” He sighed. “In fact, perhaps not.”
“Where is Emeric?” All of his siblings were married, no longer residing at Greyridge, except Geoffrey and Emeric, his middle brother.
“He is in the borderlands, negotiating a trade agreement.”
“I would hear more about this agreement.”
“Do you plan to remain at Greyridge?”
“I do not. But will return when I am able, if welcomed.”
His father said nothing for some time.
Roland did not press him. Knowing his father, he would not make a hasty decision. Neither would Roland tell him what Matilda had said to him. If his father chose Roland as his successor, he would do so without being forced. And at this moment, Stephen was still king.
His father stood. Moved toward the fire, looking into the flames.
Roland’s chest constricted.
He now knew Roland fought for a secret knightly order that supported the opposite position as he. The earl knew of his intention to marry a lady’s maid. Every transgression, or what his father believed were his transgressions, was now disclosed.
Closing his eyes, he thanked God for the blessings he’d received, being born into a noble family. For having met Amalia and being given the opportunity to serve a cause he believed in. Whatever his father decided, Roland would accept it with grace and make the best decision for his and Amalia’s future together.
His father turned to him.
“You’ve never coveted the earldom as some sons do. Accepted it, aye. But not coveted it in the same way you have my other title.”
“The Lion of Ravensbrook,” Roland said. He could not disagree with his father’s words.
“Your deed on the battlefield is far greater than anything I’ve ever done. I may have saved lives at the Battle of Ravensbrook, but you saved the one that mattered most.”
Geoffrey.
“I disagree with you on many things, Roland. That we are on opposite sides of the political landscape is no small matter, but it seems these things will be decided for us, and if we are lucky, the de Vere family line will remain intact. Neither do I agree that you’ve made the most advantageous match for yourself, taking Mistress Amalia as a wife. But you’ve shown clearly that family, above all, matters most. And for that, I can think of no better man to serve this earldom when my time in the role has ended.”
Roland had been about to take a sip of wine when his father began speaking. He lowered the goblet, frozen at his lips, without drinking it.
Of all the things he’d expected his father to say . . .
