“And keep watch over Clarice until my husband and I return.”
“I shall, milady, even if I have to share my dance partner with her.” Tina wagged a finger. “Ye keep good watch yerself, hmm? Does anything ill happen to ye, the Lord shall have to stand between me and yer husband’s wrath.”
“Be assured I shall.”
A quarter hour, Laura mused as she stole away as inconspicuously as possible lest she catch Lothaire’s eye. Time aplenty to reach the lake ahead of her husband, though if he rode rather than traveled on foot he would reach it soon after her.
On foot, she hoped, of a sudden nervous now she had committed to swimming and bathing with Lothaire and whatever came after.
Not as planned.
The one who watched the Lady of Lexeter slip away winced, then grunted over a pricked conscience. Whatever happened to Laura Middleton—now Soames—she had only herself to blame. And all the more so if this foolery of hers proved a tryst. And that might never be known did she find herself in the path of those soon to ride upon Thistle Cross to which the day’s wool had been transported for storage. Certes, that was the direction the lady headed.
An instant later, something occurred that should have sooner, making the watcher curse as that one rarely did since the devil liked to slip into one’s cracks and pry those thin places wide.
Raisa knew that, had learned it from Ricard.
Sebille knew that, had learned it from Raisa.
Angus knew that, had learned it from Sebille.
Accommodating women knew that, had learned it from Angus.
Father Atticus knew that, had learned it from those repentant women.
Then there was the physician, but from whom had he learned it? A good question deserving more thought.
As for Lady Laura, she also knew of the devil’s penchant for cracks, surely having learned it from the man she had allowed to plant a babe in her.
Accursed Queen Eleanor! A pure bride Lothaire deserved, not this one who seemed intent on cuckolding him a second time.
The watcher searched out that lady. Finding her gone and wondering how long gone, a third curse opened another crack as what had belatedly occurred only to drift away now returned.
A sign the mind was slipping? Nay, there was much to occupy it, especially with the pieces of the plan screeching and grinding against one another. They would fit, providing Lady Laura’s cuckoldry did not ruin it.
Those hired twice now must not be distracted by a pretty woman crossing their path. Hopefully, the men would take the first road on the far side of the lake though the going was rough compared to that which wound around the side nearest the celebration. Only necessary, of course, if Lady Laura ventured as far as the lake. And she might, but were her husband told she had slipped away—
Too late. If he departed the celebration, he might happen on men he would likely recognize as those who failed to end the lives of Lady Beata and her husband. And if he fell to them, the one who saw coins pressed into their greasy palms would ever ache over his loss. All that was done would be for naught.
“Please Lord,” the watcher whispered, as ever seeking His understanding of what had to be done. “Let that faithless woman not cross their path.”
Chapter 29
Whatever the tidings, they were of great import.
Lothaire and Angus strode from the gathering to intercept the rider come over the rise across which the light of waning day shone.
“I come from Shepsdale, my lord!” the man called.
Lothaire tensed, certain the celebration’s interruption had all to do with wool, the storehouse on the outskirts of the village of Shepsdale crowded with one quarter of this season’s shearing, the remainder divided between High Castle and the villages of Wee Wainscot and Thistle Cross.
The rider reined in and swung out of the saddle.
“Deliver your tidings,” Lothaire demanded, and hearing his sister call to him, glanced at where she and the physician hastened forward.
“Two—mayhap three—men broke into the wool stores, my lord. Blessedly, the watch put them to flight ere they could make good on whatever ill they intended.” The man replenished his breath. “’Twas in this direction they headed.”
Lothaire inclined his head. Were they not prepared to cede their loss and quit the barony of Lexeter by way of its southern border, there were only two places they might go—High Castle, which they would not dare for how impregnable it was outside of siege, or Thistle Cross with its own wool stores to which much had been added this day.
“The wool at Thistle Cross,” Sebille gasped. “Dear Lord, not again.”
Lothaire looked to where she had drawn alongside. “Not again, Sebille? What say you?”
“I am not certain, but…” She snatched up her prayer beads, began to trip her fingers over them.
“Speak, Sebille!”
“What if Lady Raisa is involved as she was with the attempt on the lives of Lady Beata and Baron Marshal?”
“How can you think that possible?”
She drew a quavering breath. “You cannot tell I told, but this morn she was so angry you are sending her away she said ’tis time to stir up more trouble—that if you are to make her life miserable, the one to whom she has given all ought not be spared, nor your harlot wife.”
Lothaire believed Raisa would say that, but it did not seem possible her threat went beyond words.
A movement past Sebille drawing Lothaire’s gaze to Tina, who halted and looked expectantly at him as if requesting permission to approach, he held up a hand and returned his regard to his sister. “If Mother is responsible for the attack, tell how she could arrange it.”
“We think we have isolated her from those who once did her bidding for a coin or pretty bauble, but I fear not.” She looked down. “Your wife never revealed the truth of her bruised face, did she?”
Lothaire’s heart pounded harder. Though certain Laura had been struck despite her claim the bruise resulted from a fall, Sebille insinuated he had been correct in believing she was attacked, but not by her daughter.
“What is the truth?” he growled.
“I am sorry I did not tell it, but I believed Lady Raisa satisfied enough that she would not bother Lady Laura again, especially when she took so ill afterward. Too, I thought if she caused no further trouble you might allow her to remain at High Castle and I would not have to leave with her.”
That last Lothaire barely heard. “Mother attacked Laura?”
“She is not as feeble as she feigns. But in her defense, your wife slapped her, though…”
“What?”
“In Lady Laura’s defense, I am certain she was provoked after Lady Raisa stole into her chamber.”