Read Online The Shattered Rose by Jo Beverley - Free Book Online

all around them again, whining.
    Lord William wiped his red face with a cloth hurriedly presented to him. "I thought you'd had enough blows for one day, lad. . . ."
    "Told me what?"
    "Gallot's dead, Galeran," said Jehanne icily. "It was all for nothing. He's dead."
    Into the silence Gilbert said, "Don't forget the rest, you frozen-hearted bitch. You killed him to make way for your lover's bastard."
    * * * * *
    In the end Galeran ordered his wife into guarded confinement in the small nursing chamber next to the solar, more to protect her from others than to punish her. He couldn't even begin to comprehend what had happened in his absence and wasn't ready to try. Days of hard traveling had left him unfit for this crisis, and his poor rest the night before was just masking exhaustion.
    He took refuge alone in the solar, looking sightlessly out of the narrow window.
    His firstborn son was dead before he'd ever held him, and some people suspected that Jehanne had in some way caused the death. He'd gathered that much from the cacophony of information before he'd shut it off.
    Later.
    He'd handle it later.
    His tired eyes followed the road away from the castle, into the nearby woods. It drew him, but running away once was enough for any grown man.
    He needed sleep but knew his tormented mind would not permit it yet, and anyway, it was only morning. There was a day to get through.
    His precious first day home.
    With a bitter laugh, he pushed away from the window. He'd have to put his insane, purposeless energy to use, and hope activity would drown out half-formed images of a child he had never seen. A child all the people here could tell him of if he asked—
    Tears swelled in his chest, more agonizing than a wound. . . .
    No. Not yet.
    He would not weep yet, for if he began, he was not sure he could stop.
    He headed for the door, but halted, looking at an ivory rose in its accustomed place on a small table against the wall. He had to believe it had some meaning for her. Had it sat there throughout his absence, even when she . . . ?
    He picked it up, and the cracked petal tilted then fell off. Muttering a curse, he fumbled to push it back into the soft wax that held it in place. Then he froze, holding it in his hand, fighting the urge to crush it, even though the sharp edges would lacerate his hand.
    With a deep breath he put it down, even though the petal was crooked. The risks were too great.
    He went out to his great chair in the hall and summoned his officers to report on their management of his property during his absence. He didn't make much sense of it, but could tell Heywood had been well cared for.
    He couldn't help noticing the way they all looked at him, though. On the faces of some he detected a sneer that said they didn't think he had the balls to handle his sinful woman, that he'd forgive her without a twitch of protest.
    Some eyed him warily, however, as if expecting him to burst into berserker rage at any moment.
    Either could be right, which is why he'd hit her, to get someone on her side. Galeran's father had sent Will back to camp and Gilbert back to Brome, but he stayed in the keep, watching from a distance in case Galeran turned to violence again.
    And Galeran was glad there was someone to make sure he didn't.

Chapter 5

    If he tried hard, a man could take a long time reviewing a two-year absence. What's more, the exercise could cram his mind so full of petty details, there was no space for other things.
    Like a dead child . . .
    Like an unfaithful wife . . .
    Galeran tried very hard.
    Once his senior officers had been interviewed, he went, trailed by his dogs, to inspect all parts of the castle.
    He knew that no matter what had happened, Jehanne would have run the estate perfectly, but he went over all the records and discussed matters with every person in the castle of any importance.
    When he found himself discussing bluing with the head laundry woman, however, he knew he'd gone mad. He handled it well enough,