So, Nicholas thought, the man was not the untrained weakling he appeared. ’Twas no matter. Nick had underestimated him once, but ’twould not happen again. He would best the man and disarm him in short order.
“What were you doing in Sterlyng’s study last night?” Nicholas asked.
“Making impressions of his seal,” Tournay replied. Then he lunged again. “Prepare yourself for death, Kirkham.”
Nicholas threw a kick, catching the secretary in the belly, sending him head over heels. The fall knocked the wind out of the man, and Nick quickly came to his feet.
“How does Sterlyng’s seal serve you, Tournay?” he asked as the secretary got to his knees and brandished the knife once again. Nick spread his arms and moved slowly, attempting to catch the man off guard.
“I can put anything into a missive,” Tournay said, catching his breath. “Once the sealing wax is melted, I set Sterlyng’s seal into it. No one ever guesses the one is affixed to the other.”
“I wondered why the supposed letters from Sterlyng had such thick seals.”
“And now you know,” Tournay said through clenched teeth, “just in time to die.”
“I think not, little man.”
This enraged Tournay, and he charged again with his knife, nearly catching Nicholas in the side. But Nick was faster, evading the blow at the last instant.
They parried for a few moments, with Tournay thrusting the dagger and Nicholas avoiding it. “Clearly, your little ruse worked for a while, Tournay,” Nicholas said. “But from whom were you diverting my attention? That’s the most interesting question.”
Tournay sliced again, cutting only air, but his movement gave Nicholas the advantage. He grabbed Tournay’s arm and pulled it down hard over his raised knee, knocking the knife from it. He slammed the secretary against the wall of the house and closed one hand around his throat.
The pressure of Nicholas’s hand was too great, and Tournay’s voice was choked. “No one!” he rasped.
“I think you’re lying, worm,” Nicholas said. “I think there is someone you’re protecting. And if you have any inclination of drawing another breath, you’ll say his name.”
Tournay gave a negative shake of his head.
Nicholas increased the pressure. “Apparently you do not believe I am serious.”
Tournay gagged and fought Nicholas with all his strength, but he could not budge the larger, more powerful nobleman. He finally nodded as much as he was able, and Nicholas let up on the pressure, just enough to allow the secretary to speak.
“Bex—”
“Repeat yourself!”
“Bex—” He gagged again, and Nicholas eased up a bit more.
“Bexhill!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
London. Autumn, 1429
A footman cleared his throat and apologized for intruding on the lord and his lady. “There are guests, my lord.”
Nicholas sat near the fire. Maria’s feet rested in his lap and he leaned across her body to feed her morsels from the supper tray. Though her pregnancy had not advanced so far for her to need such coddling, she did not say him nay.
Nicholas was glad, for he enjoyed every moment of touching her.
“Is it Sterlyng?” Nick asked. He would be welcome to share their meal before the fire.
“No, my lord,” the footman replied. “But…relations, I believe.”
“Who could it be?”
Maria had no sooner asked her question than a handsome older woman pushed into the room, past the footman. She was well groomed and richly dressed, and Nicholas had no recollection of ever having met her.
“Ria!” she cried.
When Maria recoiled, Nicholas set her feet aside and stood abruptly. “Madam, you intrude.”
“How can I possibly intrude, my lord?” the woman asked. “I am Olivia Morley! Ria’s aunt.”
Stunned that the woman had the gall to show up at their house in London, Nicholas was nearly speechless. And she’d brought her two offspring, who hovered near the door, obviously awaiting the outcome of their mother’s invasion here.
“My wife has no aunt,” he said tightly. He would never forgive the woman for her low treatment of Maria. Nor would he accept her into his home.
“Ah, but she does,” Olivia continued, coming to sit next to Maria. “And ’tis so long since we last saw you, darling Ria.”
Maria did not speak, and Nicholas saw that the color had drained from her face. He knew that months ago Olivia had denied Maria’s existence to the justice who’d tried to find her. He also knew that Olivia Morley had tried to take Rockbury from her, claiming that it was the rightful possession of her son, Geoffrey.
Sterlyng was correct about Lady Olivia. She had delusions.
“Adrick,” he said to the footman as he gently pulled Maria’s aunt from her chair, “please escort Lady Olivia and her children out.”
“But my lord—” Olivia objected.
“My wife has no need of relatives beyond her father…and me.”
“But we’re here in London to see her!” Olivia protested as the footman and Nicholas each took one arm to usher her out. She resisted slightly, as if unable to comprehend that she was being shown the door. “’Tis her duty to introduce us to all of London soci—”
“Her duty to you is fulfilled many times over, Lady Olivia,” Nicholas said as they finally reached the door. He sent her out, then gave a little push to the young man’s back. His sister followed. “Have the grace never to darken our door again, Morleys,” he said. “Your presence is unwelcome here.”
Nicholas shut the door on them with great relish and returned to Maria. He sat down with her again, and resumed his position as if they’d never been disturbed.
“Put your feet back in my lap, love,” Nicholas said.
The shock of Olivia’s visit had subsided to some extent, Maria’s color had returned, though she seemed far from settled.
“Ria?” he asked, frowning. The way the aunt had said it made Nicholas believe ’twas not exactly a pet name.
“I don’t believe she ever knew my real name,” Maria said. “I was just her sister-in-law’s bastard.”
Nick’s temper seethed. Even if she had truly been a bastard child, there was no reason for the mean manner with which she’d been treated at Alderton. He cringed at the thought of his own child suffering such mistreatment.
No chance of that. The child Maria carried would be well and truly loved. And legitimate, thanks to their marriage, which had taken place with little ado as soon as Maria had recovered from her fall.
She had never asked, and Nicholas had never told her of Tournay’s demise. In her condition, ’twould not have been prudent to regale her with tales of the traitor’s execution, nor did she need to know that Bexhill had also met an untimely end. Bedford and Gloucester had seen to it that Lord Bexhill would never again imperil Englishmen’s lives.
Nick took a morsel of pastry from the tray on the table and fed it to her by hand. Maria caught one of his fingers between her lips and swirled her tongue around it, eliciting a groan from Nicholas.
“Do you want to finish this meal, wench? Or just proceed directly to the bedchamber?”
Maria dropped her lashes seductively. “Oh, I intend to finish…Lord Nicky.”
The room suddenly seemed too hot. He pulled his tunic over his head. “That’s better,” he said, rolling up the sleeves of his linen undershirt. “’Tis warm by the fire.”
He shifted, then leaned over and touched a kiss to her lips. “What, exactly, do you intend to finish, my lady fair?” His voice was low, seductive, and he did not back away.
“My meal, of course,” she said, though a secretive smile crossed her lips. She pulled his head down for another kiss, and was rewarded with a scorching meeting of mouths that made her breathless.
“Mayhap later, my lady fair,” he said. “Much later.”
ISBN: 978-1-4603-6008-8
HIS LADY FAIR
Copyright © 2
002 by Margo Wider
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