Bride for a Knight (9781460344804)

by Moore, Margaret

  “I won that money gambling!”

  “You?” Gerrard scoffed. “You’re the worst man I ever met at a game of chance. You never win, and that I would gladly wager on. And are you forgetting the woman herself was all too quick to say you paid for everything and she didn’t know where or how you got your money? That I can believe,” he added with a smirk, “for I don’t think she much cared, as long as you got it.”

  “She’s a friend, my lord, merely a friend!” Dalfrid exclaimed.

  “With such friends as these, more men would be bankrupt. Give up, Dalfrid, and confess. You’re caught.” Gerrard regarded his brother with another of his mocking smiles, but this time, it was as if they shared a joke. “We learned easily the value of confession, eh, Roland? Although punishment followed as night the day, it was not quite so harsh if we admitted our mistakes.”

  Roland nodded, although he was still trying to get over the surprise of the prodigal Gerrard apparently acting as the instrument of justice.

  “I never gave that woman so much as a ha’penny!” Dalfrid whined.

  “Eua told me otherwise.” Gerrard saw Roland’s surprise increase and grinned. “Aye, she was there. I knew Dalfrid sometimes gave her money, but I never knew why until she admitted Dalfrid paid her for information she gleaned about our father, especially his plans. She says she didn’t know he was robbing us, and I have to say, I believe her, or she would have told our father hoping for a reward.”

  “Eua lied!” Dalfrid cried. “It was she who took the money!”

  The two men regarding him had identical skeptical looks on their faces.

  “She didn’t have a key to the money chest, Dalfrid, and you did,” Gerrard noted. “I’m sure that like your mistress, she also didn’t care where you got your money, but she didn’t steal it. That’s why I let her go.”

  Roland reached down and dragged the former steward of Dunborough to his feet. “So you have a house in York, Dalfrid,” he said, his tone cold, his eyes colder, “and a mistress who likes expensive clothes and furniture?”

  “We are to be married, my lord, as soon as I can afford it.”

  Gerrard laughed with scorn. “If that were so, you could sell some of her clothes, or the furniture. I’ve never seen such fine tables and chairs. You can go and see for yourself, Roland, although I suspect the woman might be long gone by the time you get there. She’s no fool, even if she did give herself to Dalfrid, and I don’t doubt she’s taken everything she can carry and headed for new pastures, with Eua complaining all the way.

  “That’s the problem with whores,” he said to Dalfrid. “They tend to care more about the money than the men who give it to them.”

  Roland gestured for two of his soldiers to come closer. “Pick him up and take him to the dungeon with the other thieves.”

  “No!” Dalfrid screeched. “You can’t put me in with common criminals!”

  “Why not? Because you’re an uncommon criminal?” Gerrard replied.

  “I see only a thief,” Roland said, “who should be with other thieves.”

  “No! No! No, my lord, please! I beg you!” Dalfrid cried, crawling toward Roland on his hands and knees.

  Roland only crossed his arms as the soldiers dragged the kicking, crying Dalfrid away, until Gerrard turned to go.

  Roland put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Stay a moment, Gerrard. You have my thanks for this.”

  His eyes revealing nothing, Gerrard shrugged. “At least now you know I’m not quite the wastrel everyone—including you—believed. And since that’s done, I’m going back to York.”

  “Not yet awhile, if you will.”

  If he could mend things with his brother before he went to DeLac, he would. “I’d like to speak with you in private first.”

  For a moment Roland thought his brother would refuse. Then Gerrard nodded once and together they went to the solar.

  Gerrard stood in the center of the room, his shoulders tensed as if poised to fight, while Roland closed the door behind him.

  “I’m grateful that you brought that miscreant back,” Roland said.

  “You’ve already thanked me.”

  “Nevertheless, I thank you again. I didn’t trust the man completely, but I never thought he’d rob us.”

  Gerrard’s lips jerked up in a little smile. “I’ve loathed him from the day he arrived. It’s a wonder I didn’t catch him sooner. I might have if I’d been paying more attention to him and less to indulging my own desires.”

  It was the first time Roland had ever heard Gerrard acknowledge any remorse for anything, and he began to hope that things could be better between them, too. “What were you doing in York?”

  Gerrard studied him a moment, more serious than Roland had ever seen him. “I went to meet Audrey’s attorney. She’s thinks there’s a chance your marriage can be annulled.”

  “What?”

  “Given that the dowry was destroyed, who could say if DeLac had given all he promised? He’s been known to cheat.”

  “I don’t give a fig how much the dowry was and you have no right to try to end my marriage!” Roland declared, the hope he’d been feeling replaced by anger.

  Gerrard’s mocking grin appeared. “How does it feel, brother, to have your rights usurped?”

  Roland crossed his arms. “I didn’t take anything from you, but I suspect you went to York for more than trying to end my marriage. You were going to try to petition the king to give you Dunborough.”

  The grin slipped away and Gerrard became serious again. “I admit I went with that in my mind, but when I realized what Dalfrid had done after years of being trusted and well paid, and as I stood looking at Dalfrid’s mistress with her greedy, gleaming eyes, it occurred to me that not only have I been an ungrateful wretch just as you claimed, but Audrey might not have only my interest at heart. I suspect she has other selfish reasons for helping me, and I will not be any woman’s toy.”

  “Not even for Dunborough?”

  “No, not even then.” Gerrard regarded his brother with the sort of expression only those who’ve suffered together can share. “After Broderick and our father, I won’t be ruled by anyone.”

  “Including a brother, however well-meant,” Roland said, understanding bursting in on him like a lantern lit in the darkness.

  “Including you,” Gerrard confirmed.

  “I should have guessed that was part of the trouble—but it was only part,” Roland replied. “We may never truly know if I was born first or not, and there’s no way to prove it either way. However, I agree that it isn’t right that only I should inherit. I thought so from the first and planned to give you a portion of the estate when you proved yourself worthy. You’ve done that, Gerrard—more than done it, if I’ve the right to judge you, and I see now I don’t. Nevertheless, I make this offer to you. If you stay, I’ll give you half of the estate and the tithes that go with it.”

  His brother’s eyes narrowed. “And if your wife objects?”

  Roland spread his hands wide. “I love her, Gerrard, as difficult as it may be for you to believe. I love her as much as any man ever loved a woman and with her good counsel to guide me, I hope to rule Dunborough wisely and well, as our father never did and no matter how much of it is mine. So I won’t see her mocked or treated with disrespect by you, or anyone. We must agree on that, if nothing else.”

  Gerrard tilted his head as he regarded his twin. “And if I mock and tease you?”

  “If you’re on your own estate, at least you’ll have less chance to do it. But Mavis is right to think that how you treat me reflects upon us both.”

  Gerrard’s shoulders relaxed and he laughed softly. “Of course she’s right about that. Why else would I have been so angry when she said it? As for your offer, I’ll consider it. It might be better if I didn’t accept i
t and stay so close to home. After all, mocking you will be a hard habit to break.”

  Roland wasn’t dissuaded by his brother’s apparent levity. “I hope you’ll stay, brother. Together we are stronger than apart, just as having Mavis for my wife has made me stronger.”

  “God’s blood, don’t remind me! She looks like a weak and feeble woman, but any woman who can get you to say aloud that you love her is a rare woman indeed.”

  “Will you stay as garrison commander here until you decide what you want to do?”

  “Gladly,” Gerrard replied with another smile.

  “Good!” Roland replied with both happiness and relief. “And now I must prepare to go to DeLac.”

  Gerrard’s eyes widened. “Then it’s true, what I heard? She’s left you?”

  “Her father was ill and has since died.”

  “Yet you stayed here?”

  “That was a mistake and one I’m going to hasten to correct, and I’m going to tell her how much I love and need her, as I should have done before.” Roland clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I hope that one day, you’ll find a woman who can make you as proud and happy as Mavis makes me.”

  “I doubt it,” Gerrard muttered as he watched his brother go.

  * * *

  Audrey saw Roland ride by from the main room of her house. “Look at him,” she sneered to Duncan, who came to stand beside her. “So proud of himself—and for what? He outlived his father and his brother, and he turned out to be the firstborn of twins. Otherwise he’s done nothing to deserve Dunborough except follow his father’s orders. As for that woman he married, I’ve met her sort before. Looks sweet and innocent, but she’s a scheming temptress.”

  “Dinna dwell on them,” the Scot said, his voice a deep growl. “They’re no’ worth it.”

  “You’re quite right!” Audrey declared, walking to the slender ebony chair and sitting gracefully. “So it’s only fitting that they both lose Dunborough, and I shall take great pleasure in bringing that about.”

  “How?” the Scot asked warily.

  “Much can be accomplished with money and influence,” she answered with smug satisfaction.

  “You’d waste your money on tha’? Just for revenge?”

  “By our Lady, I’m not as silly and shortsighted as that! I’ll be doing it for my future husband.”

  The Scot sucked in his breath and his eyes narrowed. “Gerrard?”

  “Who else?”

  “The man’s not to be trusted. He’ll take your money and your influence and ne’er wed thee.”

  Audrey regarded Duncan with a frown. “You sound very certain of that.”

  “He’s that sort o’ man. Don’t ye mind that girl in the woods? If he e’er gets a title, he’ll be like all the rest o’ his family—wantin’ a rich bride from a noble family.”

  His words revived her doubts about Gerrard, but she ignored them. “If Gerrard wants my money and my help, he’ll have to marry me to get it.”

  “What then? He’ll have mistresses by the score.”

  “And I shall have a title.”

  “There’s more important things than tha’. What about a husband who loves ye and would die for ye? Can ye say Gerrard will do either?”

  In truth, she could not—but she would not admit it. She was too close to the prize she had sought since childhood, when a noblewoman in the market had called her a common brat after she accidentally got mud on the hem of her gown. “Gerrard will come to love me.” She adjusted the embroidered edge of her bodice, much finer than anything that haughty noblewoman had worn, and raised her chin a little. “I have ways.”

  “Aye, I’m sure you do, although some may call them wiles,” Duncan replied, and there was bitterness in his voice.

  “Duncan!” she cried with both surprise and a patronizing smile. “Do you think yourself in love with me?”

  “Think? No,” he replied, his voice low and rough. “I know.”

  Audrey cursed herself for not foreseeing this. She was, after all, beautiful and desirable. “Naturally I’m flattered,” she said as she got to her feet, “and you’re a fine bodyguard and a most trustworthy fellow, Duncan, but—”

  “But I’m nay rich nor titled, is that it?”

  Audrey was suddenly sorry she’d let all the kitchen servants go to the market. “You’re very handsome, though,” she said, sidling toward the door leading to the yard. Her maidservant was in the washhouse. That wasn’t so far. “Much better looking than Roland.”

  “I’m no’ a fool like those others to be put off with smooth words and smiles and flattery,” Duncan returned, closing the distance between them. “Ye’ve no more interest in me than the fishmonger.”

  “I do!” she replied, moving away from him. She could call out the window for help.

  He grabbed her arm and hauled her close. “I’ve served ye for years and ye’ve ne’er thought of me as anything but a hireling, have ye? Instead, ye’ve set yer eyes on them as don’t want ye and think ye’re better than me.”

  “Duncan, please, you’re hurting me!”

  He cast her off and she fell to her knees. “I’m done with ye, bitch. Find somebody else to watch ye make a fool of yerself.”

  “Bitch?” she repeated angrily as she got to her feet. “How dare you talk to me that way! How dare you call me names! Leave this house! Go back to your gutter of a country! You’re a savage and your countrymen are worse and all the women are whores!”

  That was the last thing Audrey D’Orleau ever said.

  * * *

  Audrey’s middle-aged maidservant shrieked in horror, then dropped her basket of damp laundry and ran into the yard, her skirts flying. “Help! Oh, help!” she cried, her thin and homely face as white as goose feathers.

  The groom, a gray-haired man not known to hurry, heard her and rushed out of the stable to see what was amiss.

  The moment the older man was gone, Duncan came out of hiding, grabbed a bridle and put it on Audrey’s fastest horse. The gelding whinnied and shied, upset by the scent of fresh blood on his clothes.

  Nevertheless, Duncan got it saddled and out of the stable. He was already mounted and galloping away from Dunborough before the groom rushed out of the house and ran toward the village and castle beyond.

  * * *

  Duncan was well away from Dunborough by the time Gerrard, the groom, the reeve and several soldiers and men of the village crowded into the main room of Audrey’s manor. The room was in disarray, the delicate furniture smashed and broken, the brazier overturned. She had fought, that much was certain, but now her body lay on the floor, her legs splayed apart, her skirts drawn up and her throat cut so deeply, her neck was nearly sliced through.

  Gerrard had seen blood and cruelty and death, but nothing that had ever made him feel as sick and sorry as the sight of poor Audrey’s violated, bloody body. The reeve, a goldsmith named Jonas, ran from the room, his face green.

  “Oh, Audrey!” Gerrard murmured, pulling down her skirts and covering her face with a cloth from the nearby table. It was all he could think to do to give her back some measure of dignity in death and he silently vowed that he would find whoever did this, and that man would pay.

  Father Denzail, followed by Alford, the apothecary, pushed through the stunned and horrified crowd. The priest had to turn away as he made the sign of the cross. He uttered a brief blessing, then also fled the room.

  Alford bent over Audrey’s body like a worried parent, his dark hair flopping over his pale forehead, his blue eyes intent and searching as he examined her. “This was done with a sword,” he said to Gerrard. “A heavy, sharp one, wielded by a strong man.”

  Only then did Gerrard realize the Scot wasn’t there. “Where’s Duncan?” he demanded of the onlookers.

  A man spoke up from the
back of the crowd, and Gerrard recognized Matheus, the beefy, red-faced proprietor of the Cock’s Crow. “I seen him goin’ down the southern road not long ago. Riding like the wind he was, too.”

  Or like a guilty man.

  “I leave her in your care, and the priest’s,” he said to the apothecary, “while I go catch her killer.”

  * * *

  “Again you have my thanks for your hospitality,” Roland said to Sir Melvin as he took his leave after spending the night on his way to DeLac.

  “Always happy!” the nobleman replied. “It’s unfortunate my wife left to visit her sister before you arrived. I’m sure she would have liked to see you.”

  Roland was not so certain. He didn’t think he’d made a good impression on Lady Viola, and although Mavis apparently hadn’t told the man or his wife that they’d quarreled, Sir Melvin—or more likely Lady Viola—had probably guessed all was not well when he hadn’t returned with her.

  As he should have.

  “Are you sure you should travel today?” Sir Melvin asked, looking up at the sky. “It looks like rain in the east. The clouds are building.”

  “Hephaestus has made this journey quickly before and I should be with my wife,” Roland replied.

  Sir Melvin sighed and smiled. “I see it’s useless to try to stop you, but you must promise me that you and your charming wife will stop here on your way back to Dunborough. Viola will be upset if you don’t and a man should always try to keep his wife happy. That’s the secret to marital bliss, if you ask me.”

  Roland hadn’t asked him. Nevertheless, he supposed Sir Melvin had his reasons for offering this advice.

  “We’ll be delighted,” Roland answered, hoping Mavis would be returning with him. “Goodbye, Sir Melvin, and thank you again.”

  “Godspeed, Sir Roland! Have a care on the roads! Are you quite sure you won’t wait for the storm to pass?”