Free Geoffrey Condit by Band of Iron Page A

his arms and drive the desolation away.  He glanced at Catharine.  Her face, though largely masked, betrayed a mixture of anger and wariness.  Sunlight splashed onto the polished wood floor, and lit the colors of the tapestries, giving life to the people and animals frolicking there.  Peter touched the wool.  “We think the Lord Constable is responsible,” he said.
        Jane cocked her head.  “Why Buckingham?  What interest does he have in creating this marriage?”  The heiress of the Beauchamps bit a honey cake, her masterful nose dominating her pleasing features.  She must be devastated inside, Peter thought.  Poor Jane.
        “We aren’t sure, ” Catharine said.  “I was a Ward of the Crown in his custody.  He brought me to Trevor’s Mist for the marriage pretending we were out on a hunting trip.”  She breathed a ragged breath.  “Privately, he vowed to obliterate my House from the face of the earth.”
        Jane said,  “He’s made many enemies since attaching his natural arrogance to his high offices.  You must ever keep your wits about you with men like that in high places.”  She frowned.  “Revenge is a petty man’s vice, but it drives people like the duke.  You have much to lose, Peter.”  She surveyed them, still unnaturally pale.  “I will send my good servants to find information that might be useful.”
        “Thank you, Jane, ” Peter said, beginning to relax.
        She turned to Catharine.  “You are the most fortunate of women.  You’ve been given every opportunity.”
        Catharine swallowed and said, voice tight,  “I’m not sure of that.”
        Jane gave a short laugh.  “Once you’ve gotten over that silly idea, you’ll see what I say is true.”  She locked gazes with Catharine.  “Don’t wait too long.  You haven’t the luxury with Buckingham interested in your lives.”
     
        Later, in the saddle after their leave taking, Catharine turned to Peer, her eyes hard, lips tight.  Her voice sounded strained.  “She was one of ... ”
        “My wives-to-be?”  Peter stared at her. “Yes.  To be blunt, she headed the list.  I was ... ”
        “Hoping?“  She finished, venom in her voice.
        “At one time, yes.  We hoped to be married.”  Mother of God.  Difficult woman.  Can’t she see Jane has nothing to do with her?  “Look, Catharine, let’s not pursue the hurt.  It’s mine.  Not yours.  We’ve both been damaged by the events of the last few days.  Let’s not compound them.”  He glanced over at her tight face, light revealing the fine sculptured planes.
        “They’re already compounded,”  she replied, staring straight ahead.
        Exasperated, he swore under his breath.  Jealous creature.  “You ... ”
        “My lord!  The Duke of Buckingham approaches.”
        The Stafford banner floated red and black against the blue morning sky.  Twelve armed retainers preceded the duke, who was wearing black edged with gold.   He halted his black gelding in front of Peter.  “I see marriage agrees with you.  Your expressions could compete with a thunderstorm.  How pleasant to see that my efforts bear fruit.”
        “Good day to you, my lord of Buckingham,”  Peter said. “We were just saying our marriage might have been God-sent.”  He smiled.
        The duke’s face drained of color and his eyes narrowed.  He cleared his throat.  “Pray enlighten me.”
        “In your hast to marry us, you forgot that Catharine’s mother was a Neville cousin.  One of the most influential families in the realm.”
        “Ha.  Traitors to a man.”  The duke sneered.  “The Neville’s played both sides, Lancaster and York, until King Edward killed them.”
        “But the Neville women still have the King’s ear,”  Peter said, “Remember his Queen and mother.  Be careful, my lord, less you offend them.”
        “You threaten the Lord