Free By Design by Madeline Hunter Page B

whatever women caught their eyes. But Rhys had first seen it happen to a woman desired by Roger Mortimer. He had been only fourteen at the time, and the injustice had branded his young heart. He had watched that woman's anguish as Mortimer trapped her into submission. He had heard her screams while she birthed the dead bastard of the man whom she loathed.
    Details surged, specifically and clearly, out of the place in his memories where they had retreated long ago.
    A beautiful woman, dark haired and fair skinned, slowly descending a staircase …His uncle sitting by the fire, refusing to watch … A silence so deep that one could hear the starving stomachs growl.
    No one went to support her in the short walk to the waiting knight outside. Everyone's life depended on her accepting the shame, but the women did not want to be touched by it. The men did not want it to appear that they agreeably handed her over.
    This final injustice infuriated him. If his father and uncle would not fight, they could at least give her comfort. And so he had gone to her, so she would not be totally alone.
    Before they reached the knight, she had spoken. “Tell my husband that I will remain untouched in the ways that matter.”
    He had admired her strength, but the cost of that resolve had been high. When Mortimer finally tired of her, she returned with a soul so numb that nothing could ever touch it again.
    He stood in the grass twenty paces from the bench. The vivid images had dazed him, and had darkened his mind the way they still could when they unexpectedly emerged.
    Mortimer gestured him forward. “You take your time, mason. I sent a summons for you two days ago.”
    “I was not there, and had other matters to attend as well. Please do not send messengers to the city again. I am at Westminster often enough for you to find me here.”
    Mortimer's mouth pursed in annoyance. “You are overbold for a craftsman.”
    “A timid man is of no use to you.”
    Mortimer did not invite him to sit on the bench, but Rhys did anyway, to show just how overbold he could be. He resented this summons. Like that woman, he sensed that he was being drawn into a game that he could not win.
    “I have nothing to tell you. It has only been several days,” he said.
    Mortimer considered that. “It is too quiet.” He squinted thoughtfully. “Do you know Addis de Valence?”
    “I have met the Lord of Barrowburgh a few times.” He had more than met him. Addis was married to Moira, the woman who had given him the garments for Joan.
    “I am told that he is in the city. In the heat of the summer. No lords use their London houses now.”
    “Sir Addis is no enemy to you. He fought bravely for the Queen's cause. He held London for her. He took no part in Lancaster's uprising against you two years ago.”
    “But he has not come to court. He has not presented himself to the Queen.”
    “He is a rough man, not given to little courtesies. He has a new son. Perhaps that distracts him.”
    “You know much of this man whom you have met only a few times.”
    “His house is in my ward. And I know his wife fairly well, from before their marriage.”
    Mortimer grinned lewdly. “Do you now? A lush woman, nay? Serf-born, it is said. Such women are the best, the most passionate. She caught my eye, I will admit. If you know the wife, you can visit there. I am mostcurious about Addis. He keeps his own counsel too well. One never knows where he stands.”
    “I doubt that he will confide in me. We are not friendly.”
    “You served together in the Queen's cause. That makes a bond. Use it, and your friendship with the wife. See what you can learn. Something is brewing. I can smell it.” Mortimer appeared truly concerned. “Find out what it is, and you will have more than you ever dreamed. Whatever you want.”
    There was nothing more to discuss, so Rhys gladly left. The meeting had unsettled him. Even without the Queen's favor, Mortimer was lord to a quarter of the realm. He