Plans Laid
Over the next fortnight, Terric spent countless hours with his Montbryce cousins planning how they might extricate Adelina from England. He acknowledged bitterly neither he nor his sister would find a safe haven anywhere in John Lackland’s realm.
He began to lose hope when every scheme seemed doomed to failure from the outset.
Given John’s fear of a French invasion, landing a galley anywhere on England’s south coast presented a challenge.
Terric would need the help of his Norman family, but the Montbryces risked arrest if they were caught on English soil. The king was incensed the Normans had helped the French oust him from Normandie.
Time was of the essence, yet there seemed to be no clear solution.
After the midday meal, the men were preparing to adjourn once more to the Map Room when Bonhomme arrived and addressed the comte. “A message from Ellesmere, my lord,” he said, handing over a narrow metal tube.
Terric was informed it was a missive from the English Montbryces sent via pigeon relay. The knot in his gut tightened. “Adelina,” he rasped, sensing bad news.
“Indeed,” the comte affirmed after reading the message retrieved from the tube. “It isn’t good news, though this development might simplify things. Now, we need Margueriteto help plan our strategy.”
With puzzled frowns, everyone gathered around the tall table in the cramped Map Room.
“The Earl of Ellesmere reports Adelina has been betrothed,” the comte began.
Terric gritted his teeth. “I can only hope John has chosen a worthy knight.”
“Not according to our English cousin. William describes Sir Baldric de Waterthwaite as a man of more than sixty years who has already buried three wives.”
“Why would an old man want a young wife?” Adrien asked innocently, his cheeks red as a winter beetroot.
Terric clenched his fists, feeling the need to lash out. “I’ll wager he needs an heir.”
“Possibly,” Comte Barr agreed, arching his brows. “Apparently, he is too infirm to undertake the journey to London. Adelina is to travel north to his demesne—a place called Waterthwaite Hall.”
The comtesse smiled. “I see a hint of mischief in your eyes, husband.”
“I know the reason,” Marguerite said. “It’s in Cumbria, not far from my parents’ manor in Aigremont.”
“Correct me if I am wrong,” Comte Barr continued, “but your father is Baron Ravenglass, is he not?”
“Yes. Ravenglass is nearby, on the coast. It was a major port for the Romans who patrolled the lakeland fells of northern England,” Marguerite confirmed. “The harbor has silted up considerably in the centuries since then.”
“Could a small galley navigate the channel?” Terric asked, almost afraid to feel too optimistic.
“Fishermen still dock there,” she replied.
Roland began rummaging through charts stored on shelves behind the table. “I’m sure we have old maps of the Irish Sea. They might give us an idea of the lay of the land.”
* * *
As he spread the chart out on the table and weighted the corners with the bronze ovals designed for that purpose, Roland attributed the excitement bubbling in his veins to his Viking blood. What descendant of the intrepid Northmen wouldn’t be excited by the prospect of a sea voyage undertaken to rescue a maiden in distress?
But his heart knew it was more than that. Though he’d never met Adelina, he knew her. She might bear the name de Quincey, but she’d proven herself worthy of the Montbryce blood flowing in her veins. He shuddered to think what might have become of Becket if Marguerite hadn’t been snatched from under John’s nose. Roland would be forever grateful he’d been able to play a minor role in that rescue. He would never forget the heart-stopping minutes he and Becket spent in the cave beneath Melton Manor, searching for the entrance to the secret tunnel, unaware Marguerite had entered from the other end.
King John did not have the right to betroth the courageous Adelina to an old man. If she was to marry anyone, it should be a noble knight like…well…like himself.
He glanced nervously around the room as gooseflesh crawled up and down his spine. How often had he declared smugly he wasn’t interested in marriage? He looked across the table at Becket and Marguerite. It was obvious they were soul mates who belonged together.
Was some higher power drawing him to Adelina? Was she his soul mate? The mere thought of the possibility stirred his male interest.
Becket pointed to the outline of the Cumbrian coast. “It won’t be an easy voyage. John still holds Guernési and Jèrri, so you’ll have to avoid those islands before you strike out into open waters.”