“Is it his?” he asked sharply. “Or that bastard’s ye had in yer room las’ night?”
Erienne’s gaze flew up in surprise, and her heart gave a fearful lurch. “What do you mean?”
“I come ’round ter have a talk with ye, and ye had that devil Seton in yer room with ye, right ’neath yer husband’s nose. An’ I heard ye laughin’ ’bout the babe ye had made together. Ye’re carryin’ Seton’s bastard in yer belly, not yer husband’s.”
Erienne’s cheeks warmed considerably. She wanted desperately to retort with the truth, but she knew the folly of that. It was far better if her father thought her unfaithful than to jeopardize the life of the man she loved.
“Ye can’t deny it, can ye?” Avery’s half-sneering, half-gloating grin tore at the mettle of her pride. “Ye’ve played Seton’s doxie, and ye’ve gotten yerself with babe. O’ course, ye ain’t plannin’ on tellin’ Lord Saxton the seed what’s sprouted ain’t his.”
Erienne suffered through his sneers with a tight-lipped silence, but inwardly she seethed.
“I suppose I’ll be havin’ ter hold me tongue too.” He eyed her narrowly. “ ’Twould make it easier for me if I knew ye cared ’bout me more’n ye do, if ye sent a joint o’ lamb or a fat goose for me table now and then. Why, I even have ter cook me own vittles, without nary a one ter do for me, either ter wash me clothes or keep me house tidy. Considerin’ all the servants ye have here, I don’t see where ’twould hurt ye none ter send someone ter care for me. But then again, any you’d send would be wantin’ wages, and I’ve little enough coin ter spare. As ter that, I could use a new coat, a pair o’ shoes, and a few shillin’s or so ter jingle in me purse. I’m not askin’ much, ye understand, just a bit ter see me comfortable.”
Erienne came up slowly from her chair, incensed at his gall. The idea that he could try to gain a reward for keeping quiet was despicable. As usual, he was only concerned about what he could reap from this affair. “How dare you try to wheedle coin from me. All my life I have heard you complain about your poor lot, but I will hear no more. I have seen how you use people to gain some wee bit of wealth for yourself. You used my mother, my brother, and myself. You tried to use Christopher, but he would have none of it, so you set Farrell to fight for your pitiful honor, such as it was. Now you seek to use me again, but I will have none of it.”
“Ye’ve a hard heart, girl!” he accused angrily. He flung himself from his chair and paced irately in front of her. “Ye act so high and proud, even when ye’re takin’ a criminal in yer bed, and ye cannot even yield yer own father a few coins ter make his lot in life easier ter bear. I’ve gots ter walk ’bout the village and face me friends, tryin’ ter hold me head up high.” He stopped and banged his fist on the table beside her, demanding, “Dammit, girl! What would ye do if I informed Lord Saxton ’bout yer cuckoldin’ him with that Seton bastard?”
He glared at her and would have spoken further, but a scrape of a hard sole against the floor made him turn and stare with sagging jaw. Lord Saxton was coming across the room toward them from the tower, dragging his cumbered foot across the stone. Taking up a stance beside his wife, he faced the mayor.
“Did I hear my name mentioned?” His low, grating voice filled the sudden silence of the room. “Was there something you wished to speak with me about, Mayor?”
Nervously Avery glanced at Erienne and was amazed by her serenity. It seemed she almost dared him to speak. Avery could not make the words come forth, though Lord Saxton waited patiently for an answer. His lordship was the one person he was afraid to rile. He knew too well that the man doted on the girl and would not take kindly to being informed of her indiscretion, and when roused, his rage might spill over on the one who bore the news. “Me girl and me were havin’ a discussion, milord.” Avery cleared his throat awkwardly. “It has naught ter do with ye.”
“Anything to do with my wife concerns me, Mayor,” Lord Saxton assured him almost pleasantly. “I fear my fondness for her tends to make me somewhat overly protective. You do understand, don’t you?”
Avery nodded, not daring to say ought against her, for surely this man would not heed his counsel in any kind of a gracious manner.
Chapter Twenty-Two
REGRET can be a worrisome thing sometimes, especially when the matter done or not done can lead to rather serious consequences for those involved. Erienne did not trust her father, and if he spilled his precious news to the sheriff or anyone else, it might prove disastrous for the one she loved. She had begun to fear that she had been too hasty in denying his request. A tasty morsel had been known to keep a whining dog quiet.
Coming to a conclusion, Erienne dressed in a gown of iridescent blue silk, the bodice of which closed with a multitude of tiny buttons running from the high collar to the pointed waist. She called for the carriage to be brought around, then went to her husband’s chamber to inform him of her intention to visit her kin. Christopher was involved with the account books for the hall, but he readily pushed them aside to bestow on her a lengthy kiss, ardently given to remind her throughout the day that he would be eagerly anticipating her return. She giggled as he whispered a wanton promise in her ear, then with a sigh drew away, blowing back a kiss as she stepped to the door. He enjoyed the swing of her bustle until she was out of sight, and it was almost a pain to return to the dry, dull figures written on parchment.
Spring had touched the North country with fresh color. The hills were greener, the sky bluer, the streams and rippling rivulets shone clearer as they tumbled over their rocky beds. White, puffy clouds glided overhead, pushed before a light, airy breeze, while the short, new grass was ruffled beneath its touch. It was a fine day to be out and about, and as Erienne journeyed southward she hoped that it would not be torn asunder by her visit to the cottage.
The anxiety that had plagued her since her father’s departure from Saxton Hall the week before diminished somewhat as she came in sight of Mawbry. The wheels of the conveyance rattled over the bridge, and Tanner pulled to a halt before the familiar cottage. The footman jumped down and hurried to open the door and place a step for his mistress.
During her absence from the dwelling, Erienne had always held the same vision in her mind of the way it had looked when she had left it. Though only a brief few months had passed, the façade seemed strange to her. The small garden in front of the cottage had known no spring tilling, and dried stalks bearing yesteryear’s blossoms were sad reminders of their earlier beauty.
Bidding Tanner to wait, Erienne approached the door, pushing back the hood of her cloak. She paused on the step with her hand poised to knock, recalling that ecstatic moment when Christopher had first come to call and her heart had raced with the hope that he would be the one she would wed. She smiled at the memory. Compared to the men her father had paraded before her eye, he had seemed like a flawless knight.
Her knuckles rapped lightly, and in a moment she heard footsteps plodding to the door. The portal swung open, and Avery’s rumpled form appeared. The long tail of a nightshirt was stuffed haphazardly into a pair of loose breeches that hung from tattered braces, and from it all issued forth a sour odor of sweat and ale. When he saw her, surprise momentarily touched his unshaven face, then an almost leering smile spread across his lips.
“Lady Saxton!” He stepped back and swept his arm inward in a mockingly gallant gesture. “Won’t ye step into me humble dwellin’?”
Erienne’s eyes passed lightly over the cluttered interior as she moved in. It was immediately evident that her father lacked the ambition to set his house in order in more ways than one.
“Have ye come ter see me, or is it Farrell ye be wantin’? The lad went to York, and heaven only knows when he’ll be back.”
“I came to see you, Father.”
“Oh?” Avery closed the door and came around to stare at her as if he found her reply hard to believe.
“I thought over what we talked about.” She could not manage a smile as she drew a small purse from be
neath her cloak. “And though I detest the idea of being threatened, I have determined a small allowance could be offered for your comfort.”
“That’s grand o’ ye!” He chortled sneeringly and moved on into the parlor. As he poured himself a libation, he spoke over his shoulder. “ ’Tis strange ye comin’ here today.”
Erienne followed him into the room and removed a rumpled shirt from a chair before perching on its edge. “Why is it strange?”
“The sheriff come ter see me.”
“Oh?” It was her turn to use the single word in a questioning tone, and she waited to hear what that brigand was up to.
“Aye.” Avery moved to stand beside the window and peered through it, speaking in a museful vein. “I had a long discussion with him. It seems Lord Talbot has grown displeased with me over some frivolous matter and has threatened to dismiss me.” When no answer came from his daughter, he continued. “I sought some way to placate him, and thought perhaps if me and the sheriff were ter bring in yer lover and string him up before the townfolk, Lord Talbot might prove ter be in a more forgivin’ mood.”
Suspicous fear reared up like a sharp-fanged beast in Erienne’s breast, and her sudden wariness was evident in her tone. “What have you done, Father?”
He casually strolled about the room until he stood between her and the hall. Seeming to settle himself in place, he lifted his thick shoulders in a careless shrug. “I told Allan Parker what I knew…about ye and yer lover, I mean.”
“How could you?!” She came to her feet in outrage. “How could you so blithely betray your own kin?”
Avery snorted. “Ye’re no kin o’ mine, girl.”
Her hand flew to her throat as a shocked gasp emitted from it. “What are you saying?”
He braced his short legs slightly apart and folded his arms across his chest. “Ye ain’t no daughter o’ mine. Ye’re that Irishman’s brat.”
Erienne shook her head in disbelief. “Mother would never have played you false with another man.”
The mayor jeered. “The seed was already growin’ before I met yer ma. She had taken up with the bloke, married him against her family’s wishes, and then hardly a fortnight later he was hanged. Yer ma would not wed me unless she told me the truth ’bout ye bein’ there already growin’ in her belly, but all these years I’ve wished I’d never known. ’Twas a sour thing ter swallow. All I could think o’ was her in his arms.” His upper lip curled back. “She never stopped lovin’ him. I saw the way she’d look at ye, and ye bein’ the very image o’ him.”
“If you met my mother after my father was hanged,” Erienne inquired slowly, as if she found it hard to grasp what he said, “how could you have known—”
“What he looked like?” Avery finished for her. He laughed caustically. “Yer ma never knew it, but I was the one what gave the final orders ter hang the man.” He shrugged beneath Erienne’s stunned stare. “I didn’t know yer ma at the time, but that wouldna’ve stopped me. The man was arrogant, claimed ter be some lord instead o’ the bastard he was. I can still see him stridin’ in front of the guards as if the thought o’ dyin’ was something ter be laughed at. Oh, he was a handsome one with his black hair and deep blue eyes. He was tall and lean-waisted, like yer lover. A man like me could never have taken a maid from his arms. All those years yer ma lived, she mourned after him. When ye were born, I saw the joy leap in her eye. Ye were his, all right, and none o’ mine. Riordan O’Keefe, a man who has haunted me all these many years.”
A frown furrowed Erienne’s brow, then slowly faded as a rueful smile replaced it. “And you, Father? Nay, never that title again. Henceforth, I shall address you as anything but that.” She reformed her statement. “And you, sir, have haunted me all these many years.”
“Me?” Avery shook his head in confusion. “What do ye mean, girl?”
“You will probably never fully understand, but you have lifted a great burden from me. All these years I thought your blood was mine, and I am most relieved to find that false.” She tucked the small purse back in her cloak and approached him, looking him squarely in the eye. “I give you a warning, Mayor. I shall not be as forgiving as my mother. If you pursue the hanging of Christopher Seton beyond this moment, I shall live to see you hanged and many with you.”
Avery wondered at the spine of steel the twit had found. His own was pricked by little barbs of apprehension, for he was convinced that she meant every word she said.
“I will give you a bit of further advice in return for your tender care, sir,” she stressed the last words sneeringly. “If you would avoid a hanging yourself, I bid you hold yourself a goodly distance from Sheriff Parker and his friends.”
“And why, pray tell? Tell me,” he bade derisively, taking high offense at her words. “Perhaps yer lordly Saxton has a comfortable position for an old man. After the whole tale is told, will he even listen to his wife? Why should I cast off me friends on the say o’ an adulteress?”
Erienne’s eyes glittered with a coldness that should have chilled him to the bone. “I have given you a warning. Do with it as you will. Allan Parker has no friends, and he may learn something new of ropes before all this has come to an end.”
“And what will that be, Lady Saxton?” a new voice from behind her questioned. “Who will teach me more about ropes?”
She whirled on her heel, and her breath froze as Allan Parker moved with leisured stride into the room. A pair of his henchmen followed close on his heels. The kitchen door swung shut behind them, and the sound made her start. The cruel horror of the robbery she had witnessed came back to her, and the almost gentle smile on his face became a savage leer of evil. She spun about to flee, but Avery’s arm shot out, and she was caught and held fast in his grasp. Her intended scream was cut short by the sheriff’s hand clamped ruthlessly over her mouth.
One of the men snatched a cord from the drapery, and as Parker pulled a gag across her mouth against a possible outcry, the man bound her wrists firmly together in front of her. The sheriff shoved her down in a chair and jerked his thumb toward the door.
“Fleming, get rid of that coach and driver,” he commanded tersely. “Send them home. Say that she’s spending the day.”
Avery’s concern was rampant. The purse she had tucked away was uppermost in his mind, and he was loath to lose the possibility of others that could follow. “Ye wouldn’t be hurtin’ me lil’ girl, now, would ye?”
“Of course not, Avery.” Parker threw his arm across the other’s shoulder and guided him toward the door as he explained, “But with bait like this, we could just catch us a Mr. Seton. That should put us on Talbot’s good side, eh?”
Avery nodded eagerly in newfound wisdom and opened the door as the sheriff stepped out of sight. The mayor cleared his throat and called, “Ho there, Mr. Tanner.”
The coachman looked around. “Aye, sir?”
“Ah…me daughter wants ter spend the day with me. She said ter take yerself on home.”
Tanner and the footman exchanged uneasy glances, and frowning, the driver slowly approached the cottage. “Lord Saxton bade me to watch over his lady. I must await her return.”
Avery waved him off with a loud guffaw. “Have no fear, laddie. She’ll be safe enough with her own father.” Avery gestured toward the inn. “Have yerself an ale or rum ter warm yer innards. Tell them ter put it on the mayor’s account, and I’ll send her ladyship home in the livery before dark. Now be off with ye.”
Tanner was reluctant to leave, but there was not much point in further argument. Climbing to the driver’s seat, he clucked the horses into motion, swinging them past the inn without a pause and urging them into a fast gallop when they cleared the indistinct outskirts of Mawbry.
Avery returned to the parlor and avoided Erienne’s accusing glare as much as he could. Her face was flushed above the linen gag, and her eyes snapped with a promised vengeance.
Parker rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he stared down at his prisoner. “The Lady Saxton is, afte
r all, the mistress of a known criminal and an adulteress. That should be enough reason to hold her captive, and in the meantime we’ll spread the word for Seton’s ears that she’s taken. That will bring him in.”
He motioned to one of the men. “You. Go to the livery and hire the carriage. Assure the driver that we will not need his services and will bring it back before nightfall.” He counted out a few coins into the other’s palm. “That should be enough to satisfy him.” As the man departed, he admonished, “And try to get a decent horse for it.”
Parker glanced at Erienne again. “Have no worry, my lady. You are as safe with me as in your own home.” He chuckled briefly at the doubt visible in her eyes, and added, “At least until Lord Talbot returns from his business. Then I fear I’ll have to leave you to your own resources.”
A bristling glower was bestowed upon him before Erienne deemed to turn her face away, dismissing him as effectively as with her voice. She might be trapped and bound, but she was not dead yet, and she promised herself to give them whatever trouble she could.
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