Lady's Pursuit (Knight and Rogue Book 6)

by Bell, Hilari

  A silver oct assured the girl’s discretion and she gave us a cheerful grin, along with directions to a grove behind the stable where everyone went “for a bit of a snuggle.”

  “I hope we don’t trip over half a dozen couples,” I murmured as Kathy dragged me out the back door. “If it’s where ‘everyone goes.’ Any chance we’re going there to snuggle?”

  “Mayhap later.” Kathy’s crisp voice made my gloomy doubts a certainty. “But first, we’re going to talk politics.”

  The sun was setting when we reached the grove, and it was perfect for any purpose requiring privacy: far enough from the stable where the grooms slept that you wouldn’t be overheard unless you were very loud, with well-leafed trees to conceal you from sight, but not so thick you couldn’t find a nice place to settle in. We found a fallen log, with a suggestive hollow in the grass beside it — but my not-quite-fiancée seated herself on the log, in a position that was only conductive to discussing politics. Rats.

  “What if it’s not one person who had Meg taken? What if it’s several, maybe all these mountain barons who are upset about the mineral rights, and they’re luring Rupert out here to ... to...”

  “To what?” I asked reasonably. “If they wanted to kill him, they’ve had plenty of chances. They can’t hold the Liege Heir hostage unless they’re prepared to rise in open rebellion — and if they’re prepared to do that, they don’t need to take hostages. And if they want to convince him to side with them against his father, kidnapping his lover is the worst possible way to do it.”

  “I know.” Kathy sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t make sense, particularly over a matter of mineral rights. But they must have brought Meg here for some reason — and this is the one place in the Realm where almost everyone is angry with the Liege right now.”

  “It could be just that, because they knew the Liege wouldn’t want to owe these barons any favors. Could they have brought her here so Rupert would have to ask the local barons for a favor? To make the Crown indebted to them, so... What is this thing with the minerals?”

  “Oh, that’s a longstanding problem — it flares up every few decades, both sides make some concessions and it subsides again. At least, it usually subsides. This time it’s evidently hot enough that Roger doesn’t want to raise troops — not even to rescue an innocent woman from kidnappers! And I don’t think the High Liege knows that.”

  It seemed to me that Corbin was happy to have an excuse to raise troops, which made me wonder even more.

  “So what is this about, anyway?”

  “The first High Liege granted fiefs to his followers on the condition that, while they could farm and fish and hunt the surface of the land, anything buried beneath it belonged to the Crown. They can mine it, but twenty percent of whatever they extract goes back to the Liege. It nets the treasury almost as much as the taxes Father complains so much about, so I can understand why the mountain barons, who often get more of their income from mining than they do from—”

  She broke off, but I’d heard it too — those leafy boughs didn’t just conceal lovers from the manor’s windows, they also warned you when someone was coming.

  Kathy was my fiancée in all but name ... but I was the only one who knew that. Being discovered lurking in the bushes with me would do things to her reputation that her father wouldn’t appreciate.

  I rolled her off the log, away from that inviting hollow and into the prickly bushes on the other side. I just hoped that the oncoming lovers didn’t park themselves there — or that if they did they wouldn’t take too long, or embarrass poor Kathy too badly. Then I recognized Rupert and Corbin’s voices.

  If I hadn’t known about Rupert’s relationship with Meg, I might have worried that they were about to embarrass us. But like Kathy, they’d come out here to talk politics.

  “...we’re the ones who dig it out of the ground,” Corbin was saying heatedly. “The ones whose men die if the mine collapses, whose towns are choked by the smoke of the smelters, who—”

  “You can build the smelters away from the towns,” Rupert murmured. “If you put a hill between them, very little of the smoke—”

  They came to a stop before they reached our log — though not, alas, far enough off that we could escape without being seen.

  “You know what I mean. It’s our land, in our fief! Why shouldn’t we own what’s under it, as well as... Are you listening to me?”

  “Not really,” said Rupert. “To be frank, I don’t give a tinker’s curse about mineral rights just now.”

  There was a moment of silence while Corbin took this in. “If we help you get your skirt back, will you care then?”

  “For pity’s sake, Corbin! Meg’s not some skirt, she’s the woman I want to marry! She’s carrying my child. But beyond that, she’s an innocent woman who’s been kidnapped. Who’s being held against her will, alone and terrified. If mineral rights are all you can think of in the face of that, I hope you choke on them!”

  “Oh.” Corbin took this in as well. “Sorry. You want to tell me about it?”

  “Not if you don’t want to hear it. I had thought we were friends, but I suppose...”

  It might have been friendship. More likely, young Corbin had grown up to realize that his childhood playmate was now the chosen Heir. He made appropriate soothing sounds, and Rupert — who desperately wanted to talk about Meg, whether his audience wanted to hear it or not — poured out the whole story of his romance, her kidnapping, and our pursuit.

  This took longer than it would have if they’d made love.

  But if Corbin had written off the woman who carried his cousin’s child as a “skirt,” I didn’t want to find out what he’d think of Kathy if she was found hiding in the lovers’ grove with me, so I resigned myself to waiting in patience. At least I got to hold her hand.

  I already knew the story, so I was barely listening when Rupert reached my failed attempt to rescue Meg from the inn. Corbin was unimpressed by my heroism.

  “That was stupid of him,” he said. “For all he knew they might have been eating in shifts; two men in the room with her, as well as the one outside the door.”

  This was true, and he’d thought of it quicker than I had. I revised my estimate of his intelligence upward, and tickled Kathy’s palm with my fingers. The story was nearing an end, and we might soon be free to do a bit of snuggling after all.

  “Even if they all slept in the same room with her,” Corbin went on, “and Lady Katherine wasn’t much use, the odds would have been three to six if you went back later. They’d have been asleep, and dazed if they woke up. Better chance all round.”

  Kathy’s hand, which had been wiggling playfully, went still. I abruptly started paying attention.

  “I know that,” Rupert said. “Fisk knew it too, but I know why he went in. I’d have done the same.”

  “To rescue the fair damsel?” Corbin said cynically. “No, I can see why you’d do that, but you said he’s involved with the Sevenson girl.”

  So much for Rupert’s discretion. I cursed silently, which was all I could do without making the situation even worse.

  “Oh, that had nothing to do with Meg,” said Rupert, and I stiffened in sudden alarm. “He didn’t want to get Kathy involved in a brawl. Part of me wanted to blame him for that ... but if our situations had been reversed, I’d have done the same.”

  Kathy’s hand pulled away from mine.

  The rest of Rupert’s tale was soon told — he skipped the part about Champion bolting and glossed over the possible poison, though he did ask Corbin to make sure none of the servants chased off the dog.

  That mutt was the last thing I cared about. I could barely see Kathy, for it was now almost dark in the shadow of the log, but her stiff back radiated anger ... and there was still nothing I could do until Rupert and Corbin finally went back to the house.

  Kathy waited till the sound of their voices had faded before she stood and shook out her crumpled skirts. She looked as tousled as if we had bee
n making love ... but one glimpse of her face was enough to dispel that impression.

  I’m a big believer in lying ... but sometimes there’s just no point.

  “All right,” I said. “I wanted to keep you safe. Is that such a terrible thing?”

  “You broke your word,” she said. “We all promised that if we found Meg we’d come back and get the others. So we could all be safe — and have a better chance of getting her out, too! I’d have thought that mess with Michael would have taught you to consult with your partners, Fisk.”

  “But you’re not—”

  I didn’t even finish the sentence, but it was still too late.

  “Really? Yet one of the main reasons I wanted to marry you was because I thought you’d be willing to treat your wife as a partner. It seems I was wrong.”

  My heart was hammering sickly, but I recognized the word that mattered most in that whole terrible sentence.

  “Wanted? Past tense?”

  I didn’t know whether to be furious or grateful when she walked away, leaving the question unanswered.

  Kathy still wasn’t speaking to me the next morning, even after the deputies gathered at the manor and we all rode off to intercept the coach when it came into Roger’s fief. We took the time to make certain it hadn’t already gone through the first town after the border, then rode out to yet another invisible line across the road and waited for it. And waited.

  It was almost sunset before Rupert gave up and admitted that the coach must have turned north again. It wasn’t coming into Roger’s fief, after all.

  Kettering, which I reached in the late afternoon, was another of the lumber towns that seemed to perch on every mountain river big enough to float a log. Most of the townsfolk were preparing for Darkling Night, which would occur tomorrow. I could see my father’s point about foolish superstition; the Green Moon had been gone for days now, and last night the tiny sliver of the Creature Moon had been up for just a few hours before it followed the sun over the horizon.

  Yet people in the street called out to friends and neighbors, asking where they intended to go and inviting them to join this party or that. Almost every house already had either an O, for open, chalked on its door, or an X to keep out the wild magic in the owners’ absence.

  Those who had anything worth stealing would leave their servants behind — if not for that, a burglar could claim a rich haul on Darkling Nights. ’Twas a thing I’d never have thought of before I met Fisk. I wondered yet again how my friends went on without me, if all were well, if they’d found some way to free Mistress Margaret.

  I hoped to make progress with that quest now, so I made some inquires and then rode to Half Moon street, where the mill owner who’d bought Baron Tatterman’s old keep lived.

  After some thought about feed and water, I’d taken Wheatman’s roan with me as a packhorse and brought True along for the romp. My garb and my companions marked me as a traveler, and I was able to ride down the street and past that tall wooden house without attracting attention. But what next?

  If the keep’s owner had knowingly loaned it to the kidnappers, any inquiry he learned about would have him sending off a messenger to warn them. That messenger would either find me in residence, which could have unfortunate legal consequences, or if he reached the keep before me he’d find Wheatman there, which would be even worse.

  I cast about the mill owner’s house in widening circles, till I found an inn that looked less respectable than those around it and went in to rent a room and lodge my friends in the stable.

  When the serving maid brought me an early dinner, I pulled out a silver quart and asked her who on the inn’s staff might be willing to offer me some information about businesses in the area.

  She looked wistfully at the silver and started to shake her head. I added swiftly that this was for her, for giving me just one name.

  “Oh! Most anyone would be willing to help you with that, sir. I’ve lived here all my life, and I know a lot about any local business you’d care to name. If I was properly recompensed for my time.”

  You could have had it for half that. I could all but hear Fisk’s voice in my ears, but I care little for money. I gave her another silver quart, and she was happy to tell me which merchants on Half Moon street would be most willing to gossip about its inhabitants. Properly recompensed, of course.

  She said she could tell me anything I wanted to know, but it turned out she knew little about who might have court connections, so she only got paid for the name of a wine merchant who’d be willing to talk about his customers.

  I went to the wine shop and bought the owner a cup of his own wares. I was wary about revealing exactly whose court connections I was interested in — if he knew the mill owner, he might go to the man and report our conversation. But by asking about trouble with servants, I managed to get the name of a footman in the mill owner’s employ who’d lost three months’ pay when a parcel he’d been carrying had fallen into the mud and ruined his mistress’ new hat. He said he’d been jostled in the street, that the box had been knocked right out of his hands, and he’d been bitter about his punishment ever since.

  ’Twas now coming on dark, on a night that would be very dark indeed, but I made my way to the mill owner’s back door and extracted the footman by claiming I had information about a gambling debt owed to him.

  He was somewhat suspicious, but as I walked him back to my inn I explained that ’twas information I wanted. And I offered him a gold roundel — which he could say he’d won in a wager — for whatever he could tell me about any connection his master had with court, the High Liege, or even another nobleman who was much involved in the court.

  He thought about this for a time, but bitterness over that muddy hat won out and he willingly told me all he knew. However, aside from selling lumber to a number of wealthy men, his master had no court connections ... except, of course, for his wife. The footman’s vengeful mistress had been in service to the Liege Lady before she left to marry the master. She wrote often to the ladies she’d served with, and some came to visit her here. She didn’t go to court herself, though, because she was busy raising “that monstrous little ... ah, the young master.”

  This was the most direct connection to the wealth and power that ruled the Realm I’d found. In fact ’twas the only connection, but through two wives it led directly to the High Liege!

  But if the kidnappers were working for the High Liege, why had they fled when we threatened to go for a Liege writ?

  I let my cheerful informant depart, early enough that he should reach home before the last of the light was gone. But I sat, musing over what he’d revealed for some time before I went to bed.

  It might be a coincidence. Mistress Mill-Owner must know many people at court. But I couldn’t dismiss the fact that the only connection I could find to the kidnappers led to the High Liege himself.

  In the morning I rose early and wandered down Half Moon street, confirming that the wife of the man who owned the old keep had been in service to the Liege Lady before her marriage, and further, that her two-year-old son was a monster in child form.

  Many two-year-olds are monsters, so I paid that little heed. The High Liege, through his wife, could have learned of the old keep and arranged to use it ... and if he was behind Mistress Margaret’s kidnapping, we might be in more trouble than we could handle. Meg certainly was. He had hired Fisk and me to bring back his son, not to free his son’s mistress. Yet I had a hard time thinking that the man I’d seen playing with his youngest son in his study could be so cruel to his first-born. No matter how tangled his love affairs became.

  I rode back to the keep with these thoughts keeping me company. After stabling the horses, I knocked on Wheatman’s door, to inform him of my return and exchange an empty bucket for his full one.

  He seemed glad to see me, though I was sorry to see the transformation his presence wrought in True.

  I prepared dinner somewhat absently, though I didn’t forget to cut Wh
eatman’s meat into bits he could eat with a spoon. I also bound his hands, so I could safely check his hobbles before I let him out of the cell. He’d not managed to untwist either of the wires, though the tips of his fingers were raw with a multitude of small scratches. He may have assaulted the bar across his window as well, or the hinges on the stout wooden door, but armed with naught but a wooden bucket, bowl and spoon, if he tried he’d not even left a mark.

  In a well-built cell, there’s little a prisoner can do without tools, and the thought of courageous Mistress Margaret so confined hardened my heart toward any man who allied himself with her captors.

  I refused to apologize for leaving him so long ... but since ending our enmity was my goal I didn’t upbraid him again, and even told him what I’d learned in Kettering. Either his mask was beginning to slip or I was learning to read him better; when I mentioned that the wife of the man who owned this keep had been in service with the Liege Lady, he twitched.

  “I saw that,” I told him. “So I must be on the right track. But surely the High Liege could find a more direct way to keep us from freeing Mistress Merkle than hiring you to kill me. After he hired Fisk and me to bring Rupert back in the first place. It makes no sense!”

  Wheatman had started his dinner with good appetite, but it seemed to lessen as I told my tale. Now he simply toyed with a bit of potato.

  “You know, it’s Darkling Night,” he said.

  “I do know, though I confess I’ve not thought much about it.”

  “I’m like your father.”

  Wheatman cast me a rueful smile and I blinked in astonishment, for I’d never expected to see such an expression on his face. It made him look almost ... nice.

  “I’m not much for reflecting on things,” he went on. “But these last few days, I’ve had a lot of time to think.”