The Iron Knight (The De Russe Legacy Book 3) (16 page)

Oblivious to the knights laughing at each other because they’d all seen fit to bathe for the occasion, Emmaline gave Colton a second look as he headed into the keep. Her gaze lingering on his proud form in a simple tunic and breeches; he wasn’t even wearing his mail. It appeared to her as if he’d cleaned up because his skin was smooth, as if he had shaved.

Colton de Royans, in her opinion, was a handsome young man and a smile played on her lips as he disappeared from her view and she faced forward, trailing behind her mother and the very tall knight who was their escort. On this night, Emmaline felt more beautiful and happy than she had in a very long while, now facing the exciting prospect of supping in a room full of men. She was sure de Royans would end up in the hall and, perhaps, she might even have a chance to speak with him. Her stomach quivered giddily at the thought.

The night was mild as they moved to the great hall, positioned very close to the keep. The cavernous door beckoned them and there were already people inside, a vast room filled with smoke and bodies and dogs prowling the wooden floor looking for scraps. Straw was scattered all over the floor, gathering in big drifts beneath the three great feasting tables that filled the hall. And it was a loud place, as conversations were carrying, echoing off of the vaulted roof.

Even though Emmaline was following her mother and the big knight, she was awed by the sight of the big, noisy hall. Men were standing about, cups of drink in hand, watching her and her mother as Pembury escorted them inside. He walked both ladies down the center of the hall, as if parading them for all to see, but it seemed that he had a purpose – he was taking them to the big table at the far end where men in fine clothing were already gathered. As the trio approached, one man with dark hair and a strong, angular face stood up and smiled.

“So there you are,” he said to Gabriel. “I thought my father and I were to be dining alone tonight. Where is Lucien?”

“Undoubtedly escorting Juno to the feast,” the older man, seated beside him, spoke without enthusiasm. He had his head in one hand, leaning against the top of the table. “Where is my daughter? He has not taken her somewhere without an escort, has he?”

Gabriel had little patience for Holderness, who was nursing a massive headache after his afternoon of drinking. He was still somewhat drunk but at least he was coherent. Without answering the man’s question, he indicated the ladies by his side.

“This is Lady de Gournay and her daughter, Lady Emmaline,” he said. “My ladies, this is the Earl of Holderness, Lord de Saix, and his son, Sir Laurent.”

Sophina and Emmaline curtsied, a polished move. “My lords,” Sophina spoke for both she and her daughter. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.”

Laurent was gallant. “My ladies,” he said. “Please, sit. It has been a long time since we have had such lovely dinner companions. I had no idea we were going to be so honored this evening.”

Sophina and Emmaline took their seats across the table from them as Gabriel motioned to the servants, who rushed forward with drink. Emmaline didn’t like wine, or ale, so one of the servants rushed off to fetch her something more to her liking. Meanwhile, Sophina settled down with a big cup of rich, red wine and Gabriel sat down as well, a proper distance from Emmaline.

“My lady, how long are you to be a guest of Lord Tytherington?” Laurent asked politely.

Sophina was watching a puppy come up to her daughter, noting Emmaline’s delight and thinking that, already, they were in for a rough evening when she told her daughter that she could not keep the dog. Emmaline was the type that would take every animal home with her if she could.

“I am not entirely sure, to be truthful,” she said. “My daughter and I were set upon by outlaws not far from here and Lord Tytherington saved us. He brought us back here until my father can be notified of our troubles.”

“And who is your father?”

“Lord Andover,” she said. Then, her gaze shifted to Holderness, who was still sitting there with his head in his hand. “I have met Lady Juno and Lady Aricia, my lord. You are to be commended for such a lovely and thoughtful daughter. She is a delight.”

Holderness didn’t move until Laurent elbowed him. Then, the man’s head came up, his pale face turning in Sophina’s direction. “Aye, she is,” he muttered, feeling terrible and not entirely ready to become sociable. “Who did you say your father is?”

“Amory de Barenton, Lord Andover.”

“Of Thruxton Castle?”

“The same, my lord.”

Holderness was showing signs of being more interested in the conversation. “I know him,” he said. “I have met him in London on several occasions.”

“I will give him your best wishes when next I see him, my lord.”

Holderness seemed to be looking at her more closely as if realizing what a beautiful woman he’d been in conversation with. He hadn’t really been looking at her, at least not closely, until now.

“What are you doing at Spelthorne?” he asked.

Laurent cleared his throat softly. “The lady and her daughter have run into trouble on the road,” he said. “Lady de Gournay was explaining that Lucien saved her and her daughter, and brought them here.”

Holderness grunted. “Unfortunate,” he said. “Where were you going?”

“To meet my betrothed, my lord.”

“Who is that?”

“St. Michael du Ponte.”

Holderness’ bushy eyebrows flew up. “
That
man?” he said as if disgusted. “Are you serious?”

Sophina had no idea why he seemed so outraged. “Aye, my lord,” she said. “My father has a tentative contract with him based upon his inspection of me. My daughter and I were traveling to Gillingham Castle for that purpose.”

Holderness shook his head. “Your father is mad,” he declared. “St. Michael du Ponte is an unscrupulous character if there ever was one. How much did he pay your father for your hand? It must have been a great deal because no decent family would give over their daughter to that man. Take some advice, Lady de Gournay – go home. Go home now before it is too late.”

Shocked and dismayed, Sophina stared at the man. “But… but why would you say such a thing?”

Holderness smacked the tabletop as if to emphasize his point. “Because it is true,” he said, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Du Ponte is a nephew of Henry’s wife, Joan. The entire family is corrupt and greedy. Du Ponte was given Gillingham simply to keep peace with Joan and her relatives, but there is nary a decent thing to say about the man. Rumors of his thievery and greediness abound. Do you not know any of this? Your intended is a hated man.”

Sophina had no idea how to react to what was practically being shouted at her. She was deeply shocked at the information, information she had never heard before. There hadn’t even been a hint. Her father had never told her, nor would he have been inclined to – all he cared about was ridding himself of his widowed daughter. Certainly, he would have taken any offer no matter who it had come from. So he delivered her into the hands of a disreputable man.

As long as his daughter was no longer his problem, Amory de Barenton didn’t much care beyond that.

The realization was starting to make her physically ill.
Dear God, Father… what have you done?
As Sophina struggled to compose herself, more people approached their table and when Sophina glanced up, she could see de Royans approaching with Juno and Aricia. She was far too embarrassed and off-balance to speak to them or even acknowledge them, however, and as de Royans sat the ladies down, with Holderness demanding that his daughter sit beside him, Sophina stood up and quickly slipped away from the table.

Losing herself in the smoke and crowd of men, she could hear someone calling her name but she ignored the cries, desperate to be free of the room and of the people who now knew that she and her daughter were destined for a horrible life with a horrible man. Trying to evade those who might try to follow her, Sophina ducked out of a small servant’s door near the hearth and out into the night beyond.

The night was soft and mild, a brilliant casting of diamonds against the black sky overhead. Sophina had emerged into a small, square courtyard buried in the middle of the complex of buildings that comprised Spelthorne. In fact, it looked as if she had trapped herself because all she could see were walls surrounding her until, off to her left, she saw a small archway with an iron grate. She went to it, unlatching the grate, and entered the dark doorway beyond. She didn’t even care where it went, only that it took her away.

She wished she could run forever.

Stairs led her down between the buildings and she emerged into a wide, grassy area between the stables and the kitchen yard. The stables and their strong smell were to her left while the kitchen yard was to her right. She would rather go through the kitchens than the stables, so she headed in that direction, struggling to keep the tears from her eyes and the fear from her heart. It was true that she had left Emmaline behind in the hall, but she wouldn’t have done that had she not seen the arrival of Juno and Aricia. Now, Emmaline was with her new friends, safe and happy, and had hopefully forgotten about what the hateful earl had said.

Or perhaps he wasn’t as hateful as he was simply truthful. He’d told her the truth when her father hadn’t. She began to seriously wonder if Lucien had known of du Ponte’s reputation and simply hadn’t told her. Perhaps he didn’t think it was any of his business. Perhaps he simply sat back and kept his mouth shut, silently laughing at what she was about to face.

But no.
She couldn’t imagine he would have done that. In the brief exchanges they’d had throughout the day, she had never gotten the impression that the man was silently laughing at her plight. She didn’t truly believe that. But the truth was that it wasn’t any of his affair and he had rightly stayed out of it, whereas the Earl of Holderness hadn’t. Now, she was embarrassed and frightened, frightened of what she and Emmaline were about to face. It wasn’t as if she could return to her father; he didn’t want her back. But did she truly want to marry a man who had a hateful reputation? She wasn’t sure there was any choice because she had no money and nowhere else to go.

… or did she?

There were many things she could do. Being a common servant wasn’t a particularly attractive role in life, but Sophina had to be pragmatic about the situation. She was an excellent chatelaine who could count money, was thrifty, could sew, and she could even cook and make household things like soaps and salves and medicines from herbs. She was very quick to learn and had, over the years, learned a great deal from anyone who would teach her. She would, therefore, make an excellent chatelaine or even a nurse to any worthy family or lord who might be seeking such a person. Perhaps Sir Lucien could even help her find such a position, a place that would take both her and Emmaline. Perhaps….

“It is a pleasant evening, is it not?”

The voice, deep and male, came from behind and Sophina whirled around to find Lucien standing a few feet away. Their eyes met and he smiled into her startled face.

“I was just entering the hall with my daughter when I saw you leave,” he said. “Did you get lost?”

Sophina could feel her cheeks growing warm, now caught in her wanderings. She didn’t want to explain to the man why she ran, at least not at the moment. Still, it would come up at some point and she suspected it be fairly soon. She could only keep the truth of her actions from him for so long.

“I… I suppose I did,” she said, looking around. “I was… that is to say, I had hoped to find the garderobe or a privy, but I seem to have ended up out here.”

A smile played on Lucien’s lips. “It is much nicer out here than it is in the hall,” he said. “But I will be happy to show you the privy if that is what you are truly looking for. You should not be wandering alone, anyway.”

She tried to keep up a good front. “Why would you think that was not what I was truly looking for?” she asked. “I said I was.”

“I know.”

“And you do not believe me?”

He cleared his throat softly, averting his gaze because he was about to call the woman a liar. Far be it from him to insult a woman, but in this case, he had to. He knew why she was out here and it wasn’t to find the privy; therefore, he tried to insult her the politest way he could.

“I may have heard rumor to the contrary,” he said. “It is possible that I was told that the Earl of Buffoonery chased you from the hall with his unguarded words about du Ponte.”

Sophina stared at him a moment. He had called her a fabricator in the nicest way possible but he knew, just as she did, that she hadn’t been looking for the privy. Rather than continue to argue with him, she easily gave up. There was no use in denying it because she already looked like a fool more than she cared to. After a few moments, she simply broke down in an ironic snort.

“The Earl of Buffoonery, is it?” she grinned. “That is not a very nice thing to say.”

“Am I wrong?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “From what I saw, more than likely not.”

Lucien was pleased that she had at least let her guard down a little; she was smiling and that was something. He was relieved that she wasn’t overly insulted by his contradiction. “I came out here to see if I could be of any service,” he said. “I must apologize that a guest in my hall offended you so. I am truly sorry.”

She was touched that he should concern himself so. “You need not apologize,” she said. “It was not your failing.”

“I could have at least slapped a hand over his mouth had I been present.”

He was jesting. Or, perhaps he wasn’t. Sophina couldn’t be sure. In any case, she shook her head. “I am flattered that you would trouble yourself so, but I am sure there is nothing you can do in the face of the earl’s ramblings,” she said. “Were you told what he said, then?”

Lucien nodded. “I came into the hall just as you left,” he said. “Gabriel told me what Holderness said to you.”

“Is it true? What he said – is it true?”

Lucien hesitated a moment before nodding his head. It was clear that he was reluctant to admit it. “It is true that du Ponte does not have the most stellar reputation,” he said evenly. “Beyond that, I will not say anymore.”