She held out a shaking hand and he slid the ring on her fourth finger, the one with the closest path to her heart. He got to his feet and embraced her. “I must go to them now. I’ll not have them thinking I am hiding.”
“Give me a moment.” Cat broke away and dashed to the trunk at the foot of her bed. “Give me a moment to properly dress and join you. Freya, your assistance, please.”
The maid ran to Cat and set to work on the line of lacings at the back of the kirtle Cat had hastily pulled free. A fine gown with elaborate stitch work over vivid red silk, one meant more for an evening banquet rather than a day at court.
Geordie crossed the room and shook his head. “Forgive me, but I can’t have you there.”
Her lower lip trembled. “Why not?”
He ran a fingertip along her jaw. “Because I fear if you are there, I will not be able to be as strong as I need to be to do this. I love you far too much and the thought of losing you, even for the few days it will take for a trial to be held, is immensely painful.”
A quiet sniffle sounded from behind Cat where Freya still worked at the ties on the gown.
“Stay here and know that I will return to you.” Without waiting for her acquiescence, he cradled the back of her head in his palm and delivered one final, searing kiss: a promise of what he meant to finish when he was released as a rightfully free man.
With that, he strode across the room for the door.
“Tell them you were with me last night,” Cat said. “I will tell all of court you were, so do not think to preserve my reputation or modesty.”
Geordie regarded her over his shoulder. There was no time to argue, not when he knew how stubborn his Cat could be when she set her mind to something. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Her face crumpled and so too did his heart.
He turned to the door, opened it and was gone. He did not have to go far before a guard caught sight of him, cried out in alarm and a horde of men rushed in his direction. Geordie put up his hands in surrender.
“I know what you think I have done,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “And I am here to tell you, I am an innocent man.”
The men roughly apprehended him and snapped a pair of heavy manacles to his wrists. “So you say,” one of them muttered.
He was led through the castle, not to the dungeon, but to the king’s painted chamber. Geordie’s heart thudded in his chest as he entered the long, narrow room filled with light and vibrant paintings. The king meant to speak with him, and would no doubt be disappointed in him.
Geordie kept his back straight and his head held high as the soldiers led him through the ornate room, the way an innocent man would do in the face of false accusation.
The king met them halfway, his face devoid of all emotion. He flicked his wrist at the soldiers. “Leave us.”
At the simple request, all the courtiers and guards cleared out the room, leaving only Geordie and the king.
“Many men would have given the entirety of their fortunes to have such a feast as the one we gave for you.” The king arched a brow. “Yet, you did not stay.”
Geordie bowed his head. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I appreciate the grand gesture, truly. But with all due respect, I do not battle for glory.”
“Indeed?” The king tilted his head. “Why then do you battle?”
“For England,” Geordie replied. “And for honor.”
The king nodded to himself. “As all our noble knights should.” His mouth lifted at the corner in the ghost of a smile. “You were uncomfortable at the feast, were you not?”
Geordie shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I believe I am not a man meant for such things.”
“Which means you are the worthiest.” King Edward ran his hand down his beard. “Tell us of Sir Gawain.”
Geordie regaled the king with the events of the previous night, how he had found Cat being held against the wall, pinned at her neck by Sir Gawain and what transpired thereafter.
“You wanted to kill him,” the king stated.
“I did, but Lady Catriona stopped me.”
The king nodded to himself. “After you left the feast, where did you go?”
The king was acting the part of the magistrate, or the Captain of the King’s Guard. That he had taken such an interest in Geordie’s plight was in his favor.
“I escorted Lady Catriona to her chambers. She is staying in Lord Calville’s royally appointed rooms.”
“And after that?” the king pressed.
Geordie hated the heat scalding his cheeks and knew he was most likely blushing. “I did not leave from there, Your Grace.”
“You entered Lady Catriona’s chambers and remained there?” The king’s brows rose, though obviously he already had heard Geordie had been in her rooms.
Geordie steeled himself against the shame that would come to Cat over the sordidness of it. “You once spoke of a woman I possibly loved. You were correct. I have loved Lady Catriona for most of my life. I stayed with her last night, with the exception of leaving the room to procure a ring from my own chambers that I’d purchased for her.”
Her image flashed in his mind, the hurt on her face as she watched him go, how beautiful the ring had looked on her slender finger. “I mean to marry her.”
The king’s head lifted. “Did you seek our permission? She is a daughter of one of our wealthiest earls.”
Geordie stepped forward and lowered himself to his knee in supplication. “Please, Your Grace, allow me to wed Lady Catriona. Despite what happens with the trial I know I will face, I want to ensure she will be well taken care of, her and my child.”
A low sigh emanated from the king. “Your child?”
It was a lie, in a sense. The only one he’d ever told to the king, for he had not put the child within Cat’s womb. But Geordie would not have a child brought up feeling unwanted or unloved by his or her father, as he had. This was a noble lie for all the right reasons, even if it tarnished his honor in the eyes of the king.
“I love her.”
The king nodded solemnly. “Men do foolish things for love. You have our permission.”
“Before the trial, please, Your Grace.” Geordie was pressing his favor, he knew, but he would topple the king’s favor if it meant Cat and the babe would have the protection of his name and not face the stigma of illegitimacy.
“Very well,” the king conceded. “Before your trial. Until then, we will allow you to remain under arrest in your chambers. If you are truly innocent, you will not try to escape. But if you run, you will be caught and hanged.”
Geordie got to his feet and bowed. “Thank you for your mercy, Your Grace.”
The king summoned the guards, who arrived promptly and escorted Geordie from the room. Dread curled low in Geordie’s gut. Trials had uncertain outcomes, especially if there was strong evidence against those accused. Like a death threat issued publicly, or an inconvenient time to be seen leaving the one person who could vouch for his innocence.
His only comfort was knowing Catriona and the babe would be safe and well cared for, regardless of how Geordie’s fate fell.
24
Cat never had been one to easily give up, and Geordie’s arrest was no exception. She had Freya dress her, not in the ridiculous gown she’d hastily selected before he left, but in a more fitting gown. It was a somber shade of gray, modestly cut and hid well the small bump of her growing babe.
No doubt the members of court would trip over themselves to get a glimpse of her as they whispered their gossip. She held her head high as she left her rooms with Freya at her side and did not lower her chin once.
People stared, as she knew they would. They bent toward those next to them, murmuring in low tones, as she knew they would. What she did not expect, however, were the glances toward her stomach. Some did not bother to hide their sneering disdain, while the others at least pretended not to see her or looked away.
They were all vipers, the lot of the
m.
Cat wanted nothing more than for the trial to be done with, for Geordie to be freed of the accused crimes and for them to get as far from court as was possible. That was why she had left the sanctuary of her rooms, to ensure Geordie would be ruled innocent. She did not put as much trust in the honesty of the trial as Geordie did. Men were poisoned with the need for power and prestige, and Geordie was well-liked by the king. There were many who would gladly see him fall.
Whoever had slain Gawain had willingly allowed Geordie to shoulder the blame.
Cat would find who that was. But she had only a short amount of time to do it.
“Good morrow, Lady Catriona.”
She turned toward the friendly voice and smiled at Tristan. “Good morrow, Tristan.”
He winked at Freya in quiet, friendly greeting as the maid moved respectfully behind them. “May I escort the most talked about lady at court to the great hall to break her fast?” He bowed to Cat with usual charm.
“So long as you do not mind being the second most talked about man at court.” She offered a smile that nearly cracked her face for being so brittle. “I will not take offense if you decline.”
“And miss the gossip firsthand?” Tristan grinned and presented his arm toward her in a courtly gesture.
Cat’s smile warmed to something more genuine, and she accepted his offer to walk with her. “How bad is it?” she asked him discreetly.
The carefree lightness on Tristan’s good-natured face darkened for a flash of an instant. “It is not good.” He cast a glance around the many sets of eyes upon them. “I do not imagine we will be left alone to speak, so it is best to do so as we walk, before others can linger near us.”
“What are they saying?” Cat asked.
“That he did it. To protect you.” Tristan guided her around a group of women who refused to move from her path, offering spiteful stares in Cat’s direction.
“Everyone heard his threats,” Tristan went on. “No one spoke of anything else last night. And everyone knows he was in your rooms and slipped away for a bit of time.”
Cat’s face went hot despite her resolve not to care. “He didn’t do it,” she hissed.
“You’re certain?” Tristan cast her a serious stare. “The guards keeping watch over Sir Gawain were quickly dispatched, only knocked unconscious but not slain. The mark of a good soldier and everyone knows Sir Geordie is the best.”
“I would stake my life on it.” Cat spoke with all the resolve in her soul.
“You don’t have to,” Tristan said with a chagrined expression. “He’s already doing it for you.”
They walked into the great hall together, and the usual hum of conversation and clatter of bowls and utensils fell silent as all eyes latched onto them.
Cat hesitated, her insides flinching at the intensity of all those glares. “It turns out I am not hungry after all.”
“Don’t you dare give them the satisfaction of leaving.” Tristan flexed his arm, locking her hand in place. He was right, she knew.
She forced a laugh as though Tristan said the most humorous thing she’d ever heard, as though she truly didn’t care a whit about their pummeling judgment. “Was that convincing?”
He chuckled. “Several people even looked away.” He guided her to a seat and pulled the chair out for her. “There is more you must know,” he murmured in her ear as she sat.
She took some bread and swept a bit of butter over it as Tristan sank into the chair beside her.
His gaze slid around the room. “Apparently the king is going to allow you to wed prior to the trial, as a special favor to Geordie. To ensure his unborn child will inherit Strafford, should things not go according to plan.”
Cat’s heart caught in a bittersweet knot of elation and dread. For she would finally marry Geordie, but under such terrible circumstances. And she did not even want to consider “things not going according to plan.”
In Geordie’s most perilous moment, in his own private audience with the king, he had thought not of himself, but of Cat. But it was more than that. Geordie wouldn’t have asked for permission to wed her if he thought he would truly emerge from the trial unscathed. And further still, he had claimed her unborn child as his. In the eyes of the king and court and every man and woman of England.
She took a bite of bread in an effort to avoid the tears threatening her composure. It was dry as dust against her tongue and almost impossible to swallow, forced down only with a gulp of ale.
“While I’m mentioning it, I like your new ring.” Tristan winked. “Though I confess to be downtrodden over losing you, my darling Cat. Not that I can blame you.”
Cat glanced at the ring where it sat heavily on her finger. If she’d gotten it under better circumstances, it would not have felt like a manacle weighing her down. But to know that the small band of metal and elegant gem might be the one thing to cost her Geordie made it a hard weight to bear.
She touched her hand to her belly, an action she no longer had to hide. “I’m going to need your help, Tristan.”
“Anything.” He leaned forward to grab a slice of bread for himself.
“I need you to continue to listen to the gossip, to see if anyone seems particularly interested, or contrarily resistant to hearing any of it.”
A smile blossomed over Tristan’s mouth. “You’re going to try to find the killer before the trial.”
“Nay,” Cat said. “I will find the killer before the trial ends.”
“Then I think you’d best hurry, for it will come about in three days.”
Cat settled back in her seat. Three days? That was nothing.
A woman on the other side of the table caught Cat’s attention. Lady Strafford.
“Do excuse me,” Cat said to Tristan.
He leaned back in silent invitation for her to go. “And on the hunt, she descends.”
She smiled her appreciation and went to Geordie’s mother with Freya trailing after her. “Lady Strafford,” Cat said.
The seated woman glanced up. The veil over her head covered most of her hair, but Cat could make out several strands of white in the otherwise dark tresses. The woman had a generous mouth that stretched into a shy smile that Cat knew to be the very mirror of Geordie’s.
“My lady,” Cat inclined her head graciously.
The woman got to her feet and grasped Cat’s hand. “You must be Lady Catriona. My dear, you are so lovely. It is no wonder my Geordie…” Lady Strafford’s voice wavered.
“I wish to speak to you about Geordie.” Cat glanced at the people around Lady Strafford. “Mayhap we can go somewhere to talk?”
“Of course.” Lady Strafford allowed Cat to lead her from the great hall with their maids following at a slight distance behind them to allow for privacy. Cat led her to Ella’s apartments. While Cat had been unable to bring Tristan to her room for private conversation, she could do so with Lady Strafford without issue.
They settled before the fire as their maids brought them each a cup of ale. As they made their way to the room, Cat had tried to plan out what she might say to Geordie’s mother. Now, with the older woman sitting across from her, she found herself at a loss.
Her face flushed. “First I should like to apologize,” she stammered. “I realize what transpired between Geordie and me was far from appropriate. We grew up together, you see, and have loved each other—”
“You needn’t explain.” Lady Strafford leaned forward in her seat. “I went from having no living children, to having a son, a daughter-in-law, and a grandchild on the way all in a matter of days.” Tears shone in her eyes. “You have made me the happiest woman in all of Christendom.”
Cat found herself immediately warming to the woman she had spent a lifetime hating. “I understand you had no part in Geordie’s sacrifice.”
Lady Strafford stiffened. “I can assure you I did not. Lord Strafford has been notified of Geordie’s arrest and will no doubt be making arrangements to be here in time for the trial. You will
meet him then.”
Cat pressed her lips, suppressing the urge to share that she did not wish to meet him. She was not the only one holding back her words or ire. Lady Strafford’s jaw clenched with her own apparent displeasure. And was it any wonder, after what he’d done?
“You don’t think he did it, do you?” Geordie’s mother asked.
“If you’re referring to Geordie killing Sir Gawain, I know he did not.” Cat took a sip of her watered-down ale, then went on to explain how Geordie had wanted to marry her for so many years and how he had gone to get the ring for her. “So, you see, I know for certain he did not do it.”
“That sounds like my sweet son.” Lady Strafford drew a square of linen from her sleeve and dabbed at her teary eyes. “He’s always been like that, so focused on his love of others. When his father asked him to come to Werrick Castle, I was told he was so proud to do something for his father that he went happily to Lord Werrick.” She began to cry in earnest.
Cat got to her feet and went to Lady Strafford, hugging her as Marin always did with her sisters. She waited until the baroness’s sobs abated before releasing her and finally addressing what she’d wanted to say. “Someone killed Sir Gawain and it was not Geordie. We have three days to find who did it.”
Lady Strafford squared her shoulders, appearing resolute, where moments before memories had so defeated her. “I will do anything to save him. If you are seeking out people with a wish to kill Sir Gawain, I believe he had many enemies.”
Cat smirked. “I can see how that would be possible.”
Lady Strafford lifted her brows in agreement and took a sip of her ale.
Cat thought hard and stared into the fire. “We might want to consider this another way. Who might have killed Sir Gawain, not out of spite for him, but to attack Geordie’s character? Someone who was at the feast or heard the gossip about Geordie threatening to kill Sir Gawain.”
“Ah,” Lady Strafford exclaimed with such exuberance, Cat’s attention was pulled from the dancing flames in the hearth.
Catriona’s Secret Page 19