Coins and Daggers (9 page)

“You may thank The Almighty, Himself,” he
went on, remaining steadfast in his position by the door. “I came
to inform you that Edwin left for Henshire a little before sunrise.
His mother, Mrs. Montagu, seems to have contracted some form of an
ailment.”

“Oh my. I hope she recovers well.”

“So do I.”

“Milady, shall I go fetch your bath water
now?” Audelia asked as quietly as she could.

“Of course.”

“Going somewhere, Ryia?” His Lordship
questioned.

Lady Ryia rose from her stool and folded her
arms about her white sleeping gown. “Yes. I have plans on meeting
with an old friend of mine. Lady Shentil; do you remember her,
Bryce? She’ll be in town for but a day and had sent me a missive
last eve. I am to take brunch with her at the inn she’s
staying.”

Mention of such an inn brought Audelia’s
head up immediately, catching the stare of His Lordship as he
regarded her with a reflective light in his eye. Bowing stiffly,
she brushed pass him immediately and left the room.

“
Ah, yes I remember her,” he continued, venturing further
inside the room. “The
widow
of Shentil, if
I am correct.”

“Exactly, so.” Ryia examined her long plait
through the looking glass and smiled. “I had intended on asking
Edwin to travel with me but it seems my plans are soiled now.”

“
I’ll send Gilgallon.” Ulric spoke swiftly, partly because
he did not want to allow his sister even the slightest of chances
to request it of him instead. The widow of Shentil might be
considered as good connection but, in his opinion, the woman hadn’t
the respectability to be considered a
lady
at
all. There had just always been
something
in the way
the woman spoke. Besides, if he had anything to say about it, he
planned on taking full opportunity of being alone with his sister’s
dear lady’s maid.

“Gilgallon?”

“Yes. One of my guards. He’s a good sport
and I trust him to your care.” Ulric turned on his heel and just
before he escaped the room, he said quickly and in the best
regretful tone he could find, “I would have offered my own company
but I fear I have much to do here this afternoon. Perhaps another
time.”

Ulric released his breath the moment he left
his sister’s chamber and headed directly in search of Gilgallon. He
hadn’t seen the man since yesterday when he had instructed him to
keep a close eye on Miss Rolfen.

Miss
Rolfen
. Since when had he
began referring to her in such classy a manner? The girl was
anything but classy despite her new apparel, courtesy of his sister
and her graciousness. Sometimes he wondered if he had missed out on
it all as a babe, for kindness was never something he knew well how
to offer.

He had just
stumbled down the short hall and in the vicinity of the wide
kitchens when the scrumptious scents of bacon, eggs and fresh bread
assaulted his nostrils, all surrounded by feminine chatter and
hums. He had not dared enter this part of the house since he was a
boy still licking on Cook’s wooden spoons. And even at that time,
Cook would have gladly spanked his little rear if he had overdone
his stay. Particularly since Cook, who had been very much in her
prime at that time, had known precisely that he’d bothered himself
to be there only in sake of flirting with the kitchen help. Ulric
shook his head.
How much time
had changed since then...

The moment he
entered the kitchen and opened his mouth to commend Cook on such
delectable aroma, all sounds had ceased and Ulric found himself
being watched--and with some fair measure of horror--by six pairs
of eyes, including Cook’s. And even the serf girl that he could
identify as Anyla, in her apparent shock, must had dropped a spoon
or fork too. For some reason, Ulric found himself somewhat taken
aback by the reaction.

“Y-Your Lordship, what are you doing down
here?” Cook glanced awkwardly around at the the rest of her staff
and wiped her chubby hands on her apron.

“I followed the scent of your cooking
and...here I am,” Ulric said, partially because he knew not of what
else to say. The other five pair of eyes were still heavily trained
on him, for heaven’s sake. Cook, on the other hand, squinted up at
him as if he was some sort of a lunatic. “Uh...I am searching for
Gilgallon.”

“Oh,” Cook huffed with an air of
disappointment and turned to order her staff back to work. “I
believe he’s off somewhere. To the east stable, I think, with old
Brutus.”

Ulric nodded and turned on his heel. “Very
well, then. Carry on.”

“Uh...Your Lordship?”

“Cook?”

“While you are here...” Cook moved quickly,
her shirts swishing around her short stout frame. Ulric could even
make out the faintest dusts of flour in her lightly graying hair.
“How do you like your eggs, milord?”

Ulric glanced at the woman. A woman, who he
could remember, had been kind and amiable to him while growing up.
A woman he’d adored not only as a friend but more like a dear
cousin or an aunt. But things seemed to have changed somewhere
along the lines of time. That, or it was he who had changed.

“Never fried,” he admitted lightly. “But
hard-boiled, as usual.”

Cook seemed to have been satisfied with his
answer because she bowed graciously and went about her business
with a wide smile on her face. Ulric would have taken credit for
putting such a beam on her face except his own sudden qualms had
prevented him from doing so.

Thanking God,
and his ancestors, that the east stable was in comfortable walking
distance, Ulric bounded back down the hallway, through the foyer
and then slipped through a side door which lead directly into the
region of the yard closest to the stable. Entering, he discovered
the stable-
man,
Brutus, laying back in a heap of old
straw and Gilgallon, reclining in his own. It was a troublesome, if
not surprising sight, since his guard had been ordered to follow
Miss Rolfen around. By the looks of it, the man was blatantly
disobeying Ulric’s wishes...and neither was he in any proximity at
all to the wench.

“Gilgallon!”

The guard’s eyes flew wide open as he jumped
to his feet, looking quite startled and a bit swaying on his feet.
Old Brutus was already up as well, brushing at his trousers and
leaving the stable in quite a hurry.

“
Milord
.” The
guard blinked twice and stumbled, bracing himself against a
stall.

“Indulge me a moment.”

Gilgallon nodded and stood upright, taking a
few tentative steps forward. “Milord?”

“Had I not requested it of you to watch the
girl at all times just yesterday?”

“Yes, Your Lordship.” A deep flush crawled
up the grown man’s neck. Ulric could not begin to believe it. “I-I
have, sir. I must have fallen asleep somehow.”

Ulric eyed his guard a moment, taking in the
man’s severely crushed shirt to his unsightly hair which was
spiking out in all directions. “Are you drunk, Gilgallon?”

“N-No, sir.”

The manner in which the guard had stammered
through even the easiest of words, Ulric was convinced that perhaps
he had been. He was also nigh convinced that Gilgallon’s head would
have fallen off his shoulders at any moment if he was not to stop
shaking it so. Sighing, Ulric scratched his temple. “Never mind
that. I suggest you let Cook prepare you a strongly brewed cup of
tea to help clear your head. You are to accompany my sister, Lady
Ryia, on a social outing this morn.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Ulric nodded and turned to leave, when he
paused and glanced at Gilgallon again. He must admit that the man
looked troubled. “Are you quite certain you are not drunk?”

“No, milord.”

“And you’d not, even in the least bit, been
drinking?”

“I assure you, Your Lordship.”

At least, he’d said that with some grain of
confidence. “Very well, then.” Ulric turned away, content with his
deeds for the day so far. Now all he needed was for his sister to
leave so that he could have a word with a certain wench.

“Your Lordship? Permit me to ask, sir.”

Ulric turned at Gilgallon’s voice. The guard
approached him assertively now, his gaze steady. “Speak
freely.”

“
The girl, milord. Are... Are you certain that she
is
just
a thieving wench?”

Ulric, relatively perplexed by the guard’s
question, regarded him carefully and with great interest. “I
suppose you can assist me in that area.”

Ten

“
His and Her Ladyship are quite taken
with you, Audelia,” Madame de Lucci said from the vanity. She
glanced at the girl through the looking glass and smirked with
pleasure. “Especially, Lord Dextrem. He is most pleased with your
accomplishments.”

Audelia smiled and ran her palms over the
front of her night gown, picking at her nail buds. “Perhaps, they
would be as so kind to assist me one day with my aspirations of
learning the art of medicine.”

It had become a fine dream of hers while
passing through childhood.

Madame de Lucci stood instantaneously,
reaching out and grasping Audelia by the hands. “Look around you,
child,” she said, gesturing at the grandly furnished chamber. “Let
me remind you that we are currently standing in Dextrem House; its
owners, some of the wealthiest in this region of Bascain. And such
wealth has selected you to be their ward.” The Madame chuckled and
shook her head. “Of course they have the resources to educate you
on such a matter and even, then some.”

“
I would be hon--”

“
But you mustn’t overwhelm His and Her
Ladyship with such talk, Audelia. Not yet. It is best you wait
until you’ve fully become a member of the house.”

A
udelia opened her
eyes, running her finger tip along the thickly bounded spine of the
book. She’d not intended on entering the library again but when
Lady Ryia had left some time ago, she had ventured here with the
sole intention of finding something to occupy her thoughts with. It
was either reading or allowing her mind to construct some plan of
escaping Chastelle Manor. She’d decided that reading had been the
more practical option of the two, seeing that Lord St. Rosso seemed
to have eyes set on her from every single angle.

Withdrawing
the book from the shelf, she ran her fingertips over the cool
leather covering and across the printed title on the top middle
area of the volume.
Confessions
, it read.
An interesting topic. Flicking through the pages, she landed on a
random sheet and moved closer to the window as she read.

“ ‘
Give me chastity and continence, but not just
now
.’ ” Audelia frowned at
the words and flipped back to the front to examine the author’s
inscription of credit. “St.--”

“Augustine.”

Slamming the
book shut, Audelia took a moment to gather her wits before turning.
In truth, she’d had no need to move in order to know for sure who
had spoken. It was a voice that haunted her
at night--
and day
--in very,
very bad ways. If Audelia was certain about anything at the moment,
it was that Lord St. Rosso knew exactly how to sneak up on
people.

“Sir,” she greeted icily and slid the book
back into the empty slot.

“Ulric, will do for now.”

“Pardon me?”

Ulric
looked
about the room a
while, studying the neatly arranged furniture and trying his best
to not intimidate the wench. “Call me Ulric.”

Audelia eyed him dubiously but maintained
her stance. “I thought your name was Bryce.”

“
It is.
But only
a handful of
people refer to me as so. For example, my sister. She believes if
she calls me Bryce that it might add a little softness to my
character.”

A scoff escaped Audelia’s lips and she
glanced upwards to see Ulric St. Rosso staring at her. His eyes
bore an intensity that seemed to seep into her soul. An intensity
that ought not to be there.

“
Is
this
where my
chastisement begins for being discovered here again?”

Chuckling
deeply, His Lordship
moved
past her and retrieved the book she had been reading from. “One of
the most eminent Doctors of the Church.”

“
Who?”

“St. Augustine,” he clarified, flipping
through a few parchment leaves. He then eyed her, deliberately
trying to test her knowledge. “Though he had been a pagan at
best.”

“
A
converted
pagan, sir,
who stumbled upon the Holy Scriptures and became a
believer.”

Ulric smiled
wickedly and returned the book. “You know quite much for
just
a thieving wench.”

Audelia
inched backwards. All of a sudden, the large room seemed as
i
f it was getting too small
for both of them. “You are an exceedingly wealthy man,
that
I can obviously see. And information is easily bought these
days.”

“It is, indeed.” Ulric stepped forward some
more, just to have her cornered. “And you seem to be a very
educated thief.”

Had he been researching
her past somehow? “I never said I was ignorant of the goings-on of
the world.”

“
‘
Goings-on of the
world
’?” Ulric laughed
heartily. “This is Philosophy, Miss Rolfen. A subject only taught
in schools and seldom to females. What have you to say to
that?”