‘I hear you went back to the roof again?’ Matthew was halfway across the hall when his father’s voice stopped him. ‘That’s twice in two days.’
‘I didn’t realise you were paying attention.’
He turned towards the hearth, though he didn’t advance. His father was sitting in his customary throne-like chair, a pair of grey hunters sprawled at his feet like sentinels. There was nothing but air between them, but as usual Matthew was aware of an invisible barrier, too, a wall of tension that made his jaw clench and his muscles tighten. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been aware of that barrier. Somehow it had just always been there, from the day he was born most likely, an extension of his father’s mood, sometimes malicious, sometimes moody, frequently menacing. Today, it was most definitely the latter.
‘I pay attention to everything that goes on here. You of all people ought to know that.’ Sir Ralph got to his feet slowly. ‘You’ve toughened up while you’ve been away, boy. I didn’t expect you to have the nerve to go up there at all.’
‘Then I’m glad I can still surprise you.’
‘Surprise?’ His father’s voice sharpened. ‘The only surprise is that you thought you could deceive me again.’
‘I’ve nothing to hide.’
‘Is that so?’ His father closed in on him, halting just out of arm’s reach. ‘Do you think I don’t know what else you’re up to?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I think that you do. Only I thought you had more intelligence. Challenging a king is no small feat.’
Matthew stood his ground, struggling to keep his expression aloof as his mind raced. If his father already knew about the plot, not to mention his involvement in it, then surely it meant that the King did, too. Which meant there were more spies in England than either he or the barons had thought. He’d have to send word to Jerrard as soon as possible.
‘I’m not challenging anyone.’ He kept his voice firm.
‘But you’re planning to do something, you and your friends.’ His father’s eyes narrowed. ‘Whatever it is, I’m ordering you to stop. You’d do better to tell John what’s happening behind his back and then beg his forgiveness.’
Matthew almost laughed aloud with relief. ‘You mean you don’t already know? But I thought you were aware of everything?’
‘I want details!’
‘Then you’ve come to the wrong man.’
‘If you don’t confess, then I won’t be able to protect you.’
Matthew gave an incredulous snort. ‘Do you want to?’
‘What do you think will happen if you fail?’ Sir Ralph shoved his face forward belligerently, daring him to flinch. He didn’t. ‘John won’t be merciful. I haven’t seen him in years and I can’t rely on the past...’ An expression of something like panic flitted across his features. ‘You’re my heir.’
‘Heir.’ Matthew curled his lip on the word. Not son, just heir. For one preposterous moment, he’d thought that his father might actually care about his safety, but the warning had nothing to do with him personally. As usual, it was all about Wintercott.
‘You mean you’re afraid he might punish both of us and take your precious estate away?’ If he hadn’t been so disgusted, he might have laughed at the irony. He could hardly have asked for better protection than that!
‘You will not endanger my property!’ A vein in his father’s forehead started to throb. ‘I started with nothing, do you know that? My father was an impoverished drunk who gambled away the remnants of his own small fortune. He sent my mother to an early grave with his behaviour and then followed her soon afterwards. I know what it is to have nothing, to be all alone in the world, too. Everyone I ever cared about abandoned me! Everything I have now, I’ve earned!’
‘Everything you have, you’ve married.’ Matthew folded his arms. ‘It was my mother’s fortune that built this place. The rest all came from your other wives. Not that you ever thanked any of them. They were the ones who paid and suffered for it.’
‘It’s still mine—’ Sir Ralph’s eyes flashed ‘—and what you’re doing risks all of it.’
‘Perhaps, but I don’t follow your orders any more. I make my own decisions now.’
‘I’ll disinherit you.’
‘Go ahead. You have two sons.’
‘Alan?’ His father’s voice practically dripped with contempt. ‘He’s not fit to run Wintercott.’
‘He’s fit for more than you think.’
‘Like running away with my wife?’ his father sneered. ‘Or do you think I don’t know about that either? I’m not blind. He’s like a lovesick puppy around her. Everyone can see it, only the fool thinks he can hide it.’