Page 22

Lonsdale House

London home of the Earl of Hereford and Worcester

A s the home of generations of the well-known de Lohr family, Lonsdale House represented the Earls of Hereford and Worcester in London.

A big, three-storied manor home built out of somber gray granite, it was as strong and powerful as the earls who commanded more than half of the Welsh marches. The family had close ties to the House of de Wolfe, linked by marriage and service as well as a long and rock-solid friendship.

It was early morning as Magnus approached the enormous manse sitting on a bend of the River Thames, and he recalled the fond memories of spending time at the place as a small boy.

Perhaps he’d only spent a couple of summers there, but it was enough for him to remember the good times with the de Lohr children.

There were as many of them as there were de Wolfe children, so games and contests were always evenly matched.

He distinctly remembered playing with the older boys of the current earl, boys named Christopher and Ashdon, Bing, and Blake.

The latter two were twins, evil to the bone, and he could still feel the sting from the projectiles they would launch at his head.

The memory made him chuckle.

But that was a long time ago. He had seen the de Lohr sons many times in his lifetime, considering the House of de Lohr was a great supporter of the Crown.

He had served with the many sons of Morgen de Lohr, Earl of Hereford and Worcester, because the man had six of them.

They were all excellent warriors, even the evil twins, who had grown into fine and responsible knights.

The eldest and heir, yet another Christopher de Lohr in a family with several men named Christopher in its illustrious history, was a particularly adept commander and a tribute to his famous great-grandfather.

The relationship between the House of de Wolfe and the House of de Lohr went back to that famous great-grandsire, a man who had served Richard the Lionheart on crusade before returning home and assuming the role as Richard’s champion.

He had done battle against Richard’s younger brother, John, in the days when chivalry was alive and political intrigue was as common as a sunrise.

Magnus’ great-grandfather had served Christopher de Lohr and had been an extremely close friend all of his life.

There had never been any time in the history of England that the House of de Lohr and the House of de Wolfe were on opposite sides.

They were loyal to each other, even more than they were loyal to England itself.

Given that Magnus’ family was so far to the north and, at the moment, he needed help and advice, it was natural that he should seek it from the Earl of Hereford and Worcester.

There were several families that his family was close to, and several well-respected lords that his father was personally great friends with, but somehow Magnus only really felt comfortable coming to a man that was greatly respected by everyone in England.

Morgen de Lohr was that man.

As he traveled down the road that led toward Lonsdale house, he found himself thinking on his unexpected future.

Two days ago, he would have never imagined himself a betrothed man, and, truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure he was betrothed.

Delaina had never given him an answer. But after last night, he was going on the assumption that she was agreeable to his marriage proposal, and now her problems became his.

His biggest problem, as he saw it, was that he needed to get her out of London before Despenser tracked her down.

The man may be power-hungry and ridiculous, but he wasn’t a fool.

He had very capable men he paid well to serve him.

Magnus was concerned that one of those men might actually locate Delaina, because if Hugh was serious about finding her, he would leave no stone unturned.

And that was why Magnus needed to get her out of London as quickly as he could.

The decision to seek Lonsdale had been a swift one, nearly the moment he woke up that morning with his arms wrapped around Delaina.

The night had been magical, and he knew, as he watched her sleep, that he couldn’t sit idle while her entire life was at stake.

Whether or not she had agreed to marry him, he was going to help her.

He had a stake in this now, too.

Therefore, as Lonsdale House came into view through the trees, Magnus debated just how much he should tell the earl.

The most important fact was of Delaina’s identity—he had told her that no one would know of her past except him, but that wasn’t entirely true.

If he expected help, those he sought it from would have to know why.

He would have to swear the earl to secrecy, because he didn’t want her background getting around, but considering he was going to be asking for the man’s help, Magnus thought it only right the man should know the truth.

His biggest fear was that de Lohr would refuse him.

There was only one way to find out.

Lonsdale House was surrounded by an enormous wall with a gatehouse two stories tall.

It was a rather imposing sight, sitting squat and powerful on the banks of the Thames, and Magnus had always appreciated the strategic position of the home.

The de Wolfes had their own London town home, which actually belonged to his uncle Edward, but Edward the diplomat was not in residence at this time, was instead in Scotland trying to broker a treaty between Edward and John Balliol.

Edward had followed in the footsteps of his diplomatic grandfather as one of the king’s greatest negotiators.

It had become a de Wolfe tradition.

Soon, the gatehouse loomed before Magnus, and he called to the sentries, identifying himself.

When they saw the royal tunic and heard the name, the portcullis began to lurch, slowly lifting as men began to tug on the chains.

When it was about halfway up, Magnus dismounted his horse and walked the animal through the gatehouse, emerging into a large bailey beyond.

He was met by a de Lohr knight.

“Greetings,” the man said. “I am Marcellus de Shera. We have met before, though I doubt you would remember. There were a lot of men in the hall at the time.”

Magnus peered at the man. “De Shera,” he said. “I remember you. It was when Parliament convened last autumn, was it not?”

“It was.”

“And you are Coventry?”

Marcellus nodded. “Aye,” he said. “My father is Augustus de Shera, son of Maximus.”

The light of recognition came to Magnus’ eyes. “Of course,” he said. “The Lords of Thunder. I remember my grandfather speaking fondly of them. Is your father well?”

Marcellus nodded. “He is,” he said. “Thank you for asking.”

“And your grandfather?”

“We lost him a few years ago, unfortunately, but he was strong until the end.”

Magnus smiled faintly. “Men who fought with Simon de Montfort usually live forever, if only in legend,” he said. Then he gestured to the manse. “Is Hereford in residence?”

Marcellus nodded, indicating for Magnus to follow him. “He is,” he said. “He has been here for a few weeks because there was a great feast at Westminster he was expected to attend.”

“I know,” Magnus said. “It was last night, but I did not see him.”

Marcellus glanced at him. “He has not been well,” he said.

“A pain in his belly that he has had before, but Lady de Lohr would not let him attend on the advice of the physic, and he is quite angry over it. If you were at the feast, then mayhap you can tell him what went on. That might soothe his anger.”

Magnus grinned. “Nothing like a wife denying one’s wants.”

“I would not know. I am not married.”

“Nor I. But we have all seen what a wife can do to even the strongest of men.”

Marcellus bit off a smile as he ushered Magnus inside the manse, which was cool and dark and smelled slightly of dampness from the river.

Magnus hadn’t taken two steps when Marcellus suddenly put out a hand.

“Be prepared, my lord,” he said. “You may have to defend yourself.”

Magnus looked at the man, puzzled, when he was suddenly hit from behind.

As he struggled with his balance, the entry seemed to come alive with small children, all of them rushing at him and Marcellus.

Worse still, they were bearing sticks. As Marcellus began pushing them away, sounding the alarm, Magnus found himself utterly besieged by a gang of tiny ruffians.

One child hit him behind the knees, trying to disable him, while others were grabbing at his belt, trying to find his purse.

It was the most comical thing Magnus had ever seen.

However, he was not without experience when it came to rough children.

He had a host of nephews and cousins who were similar in their mode of attack.

Sometimes, he had to fight his way into Berwick because of his older brothers’ children, or even the children of his father’s knights. He knew how to deal with such bandits.

He started walking, grabbing the little hands that were trying to strip him.

He trapped several little hands and the boys attached to them, dragging them over to a stairwell that had an iron sconce mortared into the floor at the base of it.

He shook the iron post and, realizing it was stable enough, grabbed the silk banister on the stairwell and yanked.

The thing came free, and he started to tie the children up to the iron sconce, much to their displeasure.

In fact, one of them tried to bite him, and he pulled the cap off the lad and shoved it in his mouth to both silence him and keep him from biting someone else.

Behind him, he could hear a deep male voice.

“Thank God someone has given these wild animals what they deserve,” he said. “Magnus, is that you?”