Читать книгу Knights Divided - Suzanne Barclay - Страница 10

Liord Giles, what a surprise to find you here.”

Giles turned away from trying to decide which of the guests he might use to spy on Jamie and started. “Oh, Lord Hugh, for a moment I thought ‘twas your brother.” “I do not see how. His patch is most distinctive.” Giles ground his teeth together. Cold, haughty bastard. Though they’d only met a few times at court, he disliked Hugh nearly as much as his twin. “Ah, you are the one with the lame leg, are you not?” he sneered, pleased to see Hugh flush. “I recall both afflictions were the result of the same incident.” Hugh’s gaze turned even frostier. “Why are you here?” So, he was as loath to discuss the event as Jamie. Interesting. Giles had heard they’d been set upon by brigands and nearly killed, but there was something else. Something in Hugh’s expression when he mentioned Jamie that made Giles’s heart leap. Anger. Jealousy. Did Hugh dislike his brother? If so, Hugh might prove useful. “I could say I was here to honor your mother,” Giles said, smiling now, “but the truth is, I came to spy on your brother.”

“What has he done now?” Hugh grumbled.

Fascinating. “The Earl of Oxford has appointed me—”

“I am well aware you are Robert de Vere’s hireling, so you needn’t wrap this up in fine linen. What has Jamie done now that will again stain our family name and wound our parents?”

“We think he and Lancaster’s son are involved in something.”

“Of course they are. Jamie fostered in Lancaster’s household. He and Henry of Bolingbroke are close as brothers.”

“What are they up to?”

“I am the last man Jamie would take into his confidence,” Hugh growled.

Better and better. “You two are not close, then?”

“Tis a fine jest that we are identical in looks, yet under the skin we are completely different. Except, of course, that we are both scarred…in our own way,” he added bitterly.

“Jamie and I never dealt well together. I did not enjoy being the brunt of his sharp tongue,” Giles said on a hunch.

Hugh snapped up the bait, his manner softening as he nodded. “I suffered the same fate till he went to Lancaster’s.”

“It cannot have been easy being Jamie’s brother.”

“You are a master of understatement. He was always first in everything, swordplay, wrestling, running, swimming and, of course, women.” A muscle worked in Hugh’s jaw, and his eyes burned with the fire of past grudges. “The victories came so easily to him, yet they meant naught. Even Harte Court, an estate any man would give his soul to possess…Jamie turned his back on it and went off adventuring.”

Giles smiled inwardly. He was the son of a simple knight, but he’d risen to the right hand of a powerful earl by exploiting others’ weaknesses. Each man had his price, and Hugh had just declared his. Harte Court. Now he saw how he might fan Hugh’s resentment into the fires of Jamie’s destruction. “You should have been the firstborn…not him.”

“Aye.” Hugh shifted his weight off his left leg and grimaced. “Jamie does not appreciate what he has.”

Giles looked around the crowded garden, then drew Hugh onto one of the shadowy paths. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he said, “Oxford agrees with you. Your brother is not only unworthy of the high station he holds, he is a danger to England. We think…” Giles cast about for a suitably nefarious crime. “We think he is plotting against the crown.”

Hugh’s lips thinned. “I knew he’d go too far one day. It’s the Lancasters, is it not?”

Oh, this was too good to be true. “Has he said something?”

Hugh shook his head. “I told you he’d not confide in me.

“Quite so. Then what makes you mention Lancaster?”

“Jamie’s thick with them, and the duke has been vocal in his criticism of the king. If Lancaster decided he’d make a better king than Richard, Jamie would be certain to support him.”

Giles nearly wept with joy. Though he doubted Lancaster was plotting to usurp his nephew’s throne, he did agree with Oxford’s suspicions that the duke, Bolingbroke and Jamie were working secretly to thwart Oxford’s peace treaty with the French. ‘Twas Giles’s job to uncover their scheme before they ruined the agreement that would make Oxford the most powerful man in England…and fill Giles’s own pocket with gold.

Carefully he began to reel in the fish he’d unexpectedly netted. “We must have proof. Do you know where Jamie has gone?”

“Well…” Hugh looked uneasy. “He said he was patrolling the Cornish coast to keep watch for French ships.”

Cornwall. They’d not looked so far afield. He’d dispatch men there at once. “That area is ripe with smugglers.”

“Smuggling. I’d not thought of that,” Hugh murmured. “But ‘tis far more likely he’d be trading in stolen goods and evading the king’s tax collectors than that he’d actually try to overthrow the crown.”

Pity, Giles thought. The penalty for treason was much stiffer. “Well, I must return to London. If you hear anything you think the king should know, please contact me at once. His Majesty is lavish with his gifts to those who aid him. Who knows, you might be rewarded with an estate as fine as your brother’s.”

The grinding of Hugh’s teeth was audible. “I shall see what I can discover.”

I am certain you will.

Jamie awoke to shadows and a wretched pounding in his head. The rest of his body was so stiff and sore he wondered if he’d been beaten. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was tripping over a rope. Giles! Giles had captured him?

Terror drove out the pain. Had he talked? Then he remembered Emma, and an agonized moan clawed its way out of his chest.

“Ye’re awake,” said a coarse feminine voice. A cup pressed against his lips. But when he tried to lift his head, hot pain tore through it. “Easy, don’t try to move. Just open yer mouth.”

He obeyed, sighing as something cool slid down to ease the wool from his parched throat. Sweet wine laced with herbs. No dungeon fare this. Opening his eye, he focused on his nursemaid, an older woman in clean homespun. She offered him the cup again, and he drank, a dozen questions whirling dizzily in his mind. When she took the cup away, he asked the uppermost one. “Emma?”

“If ye’re meaning Mistress Emmeline, she’s sleeping.”

“Safe?” At her nod, he took heart. “Where am I? How long have I been here?”

“Two days.”

“Can’t stay.” Jamie tried to sit up. There was a loud clanking noise, and something caught at his wrists and ankles. That was nothing to the agony in his head. Fighting to stay conscious, he lay still. When the worst of the pain had passed, he rolled his good eye toward the maid. “Have I bedded down in the scullery with the pots and pans?” He smiled faintly.

“Nay…” She frowned.

The pounding in his head disoriented him. “Then where am I?”

“Tis not for me to say.”

“Is he giving you a hard time?” asked a familiar voice. Emma’s face appeared above him in the gloom.

“Emma.” The relief at seeing her was almost as dizzying as his headache. “How is your ankle?”

“Fine. Go up and break your fast, Molly. I’ll sit with him.”

Jamie smiled as he watched Emma primly tuck her skirts about her and take the stool Molly had vacated. “I fear I failed miserably at rescuing you and am now in your debt What happened? My limbs feel like they’re made of lead.”

“I expect that’s the chains,” she said flatly.

Chains? Teeth clenched against the pain, Jamie lifted his head just far enough to survey his body. His bare feet stuck out of the end of a coarse blanket, shackled at the ankles. “What the hell?” His wrists were chained, too. Belatedly his dazed brain fit the pieces together, the thin pallet on the floor, the meanness of the stone walls, the dank smell of earth and straw. “Giles Cadwell’s dungeon?” he croaked.

“My storeroom,” she countered. “You are my prisoner.”

“Yours, but why? Did Giles put you up to this?”

“No one employed me to imprison you. I have my own—”

“How much to release me. That is what this is about, is it not? Ransom,” he added when she still didn’t catch his meaning.

“Certainly not” She seemed affronted. “I want justice.”

“Because I tried to seduce you?”

“Not for myself, for my sister. Celia is…was my sister.”

Good God! “Impossible. You don’t look anything like—”

“I am aware I am no beauty, but she was my sister.”

“I didn’t kill her,” Jamie exclaimed.

“So you told Sir Thomas, but we do not believe that.” Her expression tightened. “He explained that his hands are tied—” her gaze flickered to his bound wrist, a half smile hinting at wry humor he’d have appreciated at another time “—by your alibi and your family’s prestige. I, however, am not so constrained.”

“What do you hope to gain by this insane—?”

“Your confession.”

“For something I didn’t do?”

Emmeline glared at him, disgust mingling with disbelief. “You had been my sister’s lover for several months—”

“Once! I took her to bed only once. And rued the episode almost the moment it was over.”

“So naturally when she told you she was pregnant, you—”

“Pregnant! That’s impossible.”

“You refused to marry her, and—”

“She never told me she was pregnant.”

“And when she persisted, mayhap even threatened to drag your precious family name into the mud, you killed her.”

“I did not!”

The door to the room flew open, hitting the wall with enough force to make the room tremble. A large, sturdy man strode in. “Do ye need help, mistress?”

“Nay. Toby, could you hear us upstairs in the shop?”

Shop? Jamie’s eyes widened. A shop meant people. If—

“Not a whisper,” Toby said.” This room’s hollowed out of solid stone. Ye could scream your lungs out down here, and no one would hear ye.” As he spoke, the big man grinned and fingered the knife in his belt. “Mistress Emmeline’s got some odd notion of wringing a confession from ye. Me, I’d as leave slit yer gullet for what ye did.”

“I did not kill Celia,” Jamie said, enunciating every word as though speaking to backward children. Or lunatics, which he very much feared they were. “I was only with her the once, and that five months ago,” he protested. “If she was carrying my child, she’d have contacted me.”

“Her maid claims you were a frequent visitor this summer.

“Impossible. Bring her here. Let her say so to my—”

“Lily is not available. But according to Sir Thomas, the neighbors saw a man of your description enter my sister’s house on several nights over the past months.”

“It was not me. There is another man, a knight with a grudge against me and your sister. Giles is tall and blond, like me, and he knew your sister.”

“Celia wrote and mentioned you…by name. She said she loved you. She hoped you’d wed her. My poor, trusting sister.”

Jamie groaned. None of this made any sense. It must be some diabolical scheme of Giles’s to get rid of him. “You have my word as a knight and a gentleman that I did not murder your sister. Please, release me. I must return to my ship.”

“You’ll stay till I have your confession.”

“Nay! I have to be in Cornwall by Wednesday,” he exclaimed.

“Well, your latest doxie will just have to wait.”

“This isn’t about some woman.” He choked back his anger. “’Tis a matter of import to the whole country,” he risked adding.

“And I’m the queen of England.” Her lips thinned. “You men are all alike, full of lies and deceit”.

Jamie cut her off with a string of creative curses garnered from ten years at sea. He strained and thrashed against the chains, but they didn’t give an inch.

“You will cease spewing such filth.”

“Want I should gag him?” Toby asked eagerly.

“Nay. We will remove ourselves from earshot”. Emmeline stood and glared down at him, her arms crossed over her chest. The gesture was robbed of its militancy by the way the plain brown cloth molded to her surprisingly generous breasts.

Jamie was in no mood to appreciate the sight. “I’ll take you with me, and Toby, too, if it would make you feel safer.” Lies and more lies. He couldn’t afford to have anyone witness his meeting with DeGrys. But he was desperate enough to promise anything to get away.

“As if I’d trust you.” Her lips curled. “You’ll find I’m not the gullible fool my sister was where men are concerned.”

“Nay, I’d say you’ve shriveled into a vengeful prune because no man would have you,” he snapped.

“I thank God I am not a target for every puffed-up male who fancies himself nature’s gift to women.” She marched out, head held high as a queen, the faithful Toby close on her heels.

“Damn you, let me out!” Jamie shouted at the top of his voice.

“Not till you confess,” Emmeline snapped. She punctuated the statement by slamming the door.

“But I’m innocent,” Jamie shouted.

“Men are born guilty” came the muted response.

“Come back here.” But beyond the door, all was quiet She’d left him here. Bloody left him here. Enraged, he tugged on the chains till the rusted cuffs bit into his wrist and ankles.

“Damn. Damn!” Seething with impotent rage, he closed his eyes. If he wasn’t there when DeGrys landed, months of planning, hundreds of pounds in bribes would be wasted. Worse, he might not get another chance to act.

All because of one puny woman’s misguided sense of justice. A niggle of respect for her boldness and loyalty Worked its way past his anger. Jamie shook it away and set his mind on the only course open to him.

Escape.

By fair means or foul, he had to get out of here.

“What do ye mean ye can only give me a pound for this.” Lily picked up the brooch and shook it in the old man’s face. “Tis solid silver, and my lady set great store by it.”

“The unicorn design is unique, I grant. But it has no gemstones, and the silver’s not of the best quality,” the pawnbroker insisted. “Mayhap it had sentimental meaning to her.”

Lily sighed glumly. “Aye, her sister, Mistress Emmeline, gave it to her. My lady sold off the pieces her husband had given her after he died…so as she could buy new gowñs and such and go to court to find another. Husband, that is.” She stared into the old man’s crafty eyes, trying to gauge his honesty.

The pawnbroker was licensed, she’d asked to see the parchment. Though the words made no sense, the seal was that of London’s mayor. And the broker was hardly skulking in an alleyway. He’d set up his table outside a fine inn a block from the tavern in which she’d found work serving at table. It was early evening, and there were few about to see her barter the trinkets she’d taken when she’d left Lady Celia’s house. Not that she felt guilty. ‘Twas her due. She’d been cast into the streets with no reference to help her get another post, and Lady Celia had owed her a quarter’s wages.

“Make up yer mind,” the pawnbroker grumbled.

Lily sighed. “I’ll take the pound ye offered for the plate, but I’ll keep the brooch.” Mayhap she’d find a way to return it to Mistress Emmeline. She carefully tucked it and the coins the broker gave her into the pouch behind her belt. The cutpurses weren’t getting what little she had.

Lily headed off in the direction of the tavern. She hadn’t eaten anything since last night and hoped the cook would give her a good price on whatever was left over from the—

“Lily?” inquired a deep voice.

She whirled and saw a man behind her. He wore a long, fur-trimmed cloak, the cowl pulled forward to obscure his face. “Wh-what?” She backed away, eyes darting about for an escape route.

“Easy. I mean you no harm.” He took a step toward her. The door of a nearby inn opened, sending a brief flood of yellow light over his face.

All she saw was the patch…a slash of black over his left eye. It was him. The dark pirate who’d been Lady Celia’s lover.

“Oh, God.” She’d known he’d find her. Sobbing, she put up a hand to ward him off. “What…what do ye want?”

“Only to make certain you are all right. You disappeared so abruptly, I feared you’d seen Celia’s killer and he’d found you.”

“Nay. I…I didn’t see anything that night.”

“Really?” His single eye glittered in the shadows of his cowl, slithering over her like a snake’s.

She shivered, wondering how her gay, frivolous lady could have loved such a dark lord. Lily had never been this close to him before. He’d always come at night, mysterious and secretive as a wraith, and gone directly to Lady Celia’s chamber. Once or twice Lily had brought them refreshments, but always her lady had taken the tray at the door. She knew who he was, of course. Lord Jamie Harcourt. “Really, milord. I was in my room…sleeping.”

“You didn’t hear or see anything?”

Voices, arguing. They’d wakened her, alarmed her enough so she’d crept up the stairs to her lady’s chamber to investigate. She shook her head. “Nay.”

“Pity, if you had, you might have seen her killer.” The very silkiness of his voice raised her hackles.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, had he done it? Had he been in London? In Lady Celia’s chamber, instead of out to sea? Lily was taking no chances. She had survived for years on her wits; she hoped they’d save her now. “I’m a sound sleeper.”

The lie stuck in her throat, clogged by the memory of what she’d seen when she’d crept up the stairs and peeked through the keyhole…her poor lady lying on the floor, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling. Lily had known Lady Celia was dead, but she’d started to go to her anyway. A sound had stopped her.

A rasping sob. The harsh breathing of someone else in that chamber. An instant later, a shadow had fallen across Lady Celia’s face. A man’s hand had reached out to touch her face.

Lily hadn’t waited to see anything more. She’d fled down the stairs and out the back door. Clad only in her shift, she’d cowered in the privy till dawn when the cook had came out and rousted her from her hiding place. Lily had been tempted to pack and run, but she’d been more afraid of being accused of the lady’s murder herself than that the murderer would guess she’d seen him. It seemed she’d made a tragic mistake.

“Why did you leave Celia’s?” Lord Jamie asked.

She itched to run, but he was too close. The street was empty except for a drunk snoring in the gutter. “To find work.”

“Of course. I’d not thought of that. Poor Ceila was fond of you, she’d be saddened to know you’d been forced to earn your way serving in a tavern.”

“Y-ye know where I work?”

The cowl bobbed as he nodded. “If you’ll come with me, I may be able to find something better for you on my estate. My sister has reached the age where she needs a good lady’s maid.”

Lily debated, caution warring with practicality. Maid to a wealthy young lady. If she was wrong about him, if he wasn’t the one, she’d be throwing away an opportunity to better herself.

“What is it? Why do you hesitate?” He took a step closer, and this time she didn’t flee. “You know, don’t you?” Before his question had scarcely registered, his hands flashed out from beneath the cloak and grabbed her shoulders.

“Please, milord, ye’re hurting me.” She tried to twist free, but his fingers sank into her flesh like talons.

“You saw me, didn’t you?” He gave her a little shake.

It jarred her brain, and the pieces fell horribly into place. “Oh, God! It was ye.”

“It was me.” He sounded sad. “I’m sorry, Lily. Celia’s death was a tragic accident. But yours…I’m sorry.”

“Wait. I didn’t see anything. I heard voices and came to the door. I saw she was dead, but not who’d done it. I didn’t know.”

“Then I am doubly sorry. But I couldn’t take the chance that you’d left Celia’s because you knew something and would eventually tell.” He spun on his heel, tripping over a pile of garbage as he carried her deeper into the stinking black alley.

She opened her mouth to scream, but it was too late even for that. He cut off the sound and her breath with a wide, icy hand.