Elizabeth Elliott (5 page)

Guy felt an immediate urge to defend himself physically from the lewd charge, even as he realized that it was Lonsdale’s opening move in this game. The strategy. He had to remember his own strategy, to shake off the malaise that still held his mind and body in its grip. His hands clenched into fists and he concentrated on deep, steady breaths. Thank God he’d drunk no more than one ration of wine. Another goblet and he would be in a stupor right now. He needed his wits to avoid a misstep that might cost his life. “Where is my squire?”

“I am here, my lord.” Stephen made his way around the soldiers and stepped into the room. The young man wore a worried expression, but he bowed low to Guy. “These men came to your chamber and demanded you be awakened. I did not know—That is—”

“Never mind, Stephen. Did you see anyone enter my chamber last eve? Or leave it?” He frowned when Stephen shook his head, even though he had expected that answer.
Stephen looked alert, but perhaps they’d drugged him as well. “Wake Sir Evard and bid him join me.”

Baron Lonsdale clapped one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Nay, I think not. You have no need for your second-in-command, Lord Guy. The boy stays here.”

Guy shrugged as if unconcerned. He reached for his shirt and continued to dress, one eye on Lonsdale. The room swayed at a dangerous angle as he performed the mundane task, and he concentrated all his effort to appear unaffected. He could not afford any display of weakness. “What drug did you use, Lonsdale? I did not come here of my own will, and know well enough that one goblet of wine could not render me senseless.”

“Are you trying to deny the evidence?” Lonsdale looked incredulous. He turned to Bishop Germaine. “You are witness to these lies, Bishop. ’Tis obvious to all that this man seduced an innocent lady with lies told just as smoothly. I demand retribution, yet I am a man of God. I will let the Church guide my actions in this matter.”

Guy almost smiled at the bishop’s eager effort to appear surprised. Then he thought of the part Claudia had played in his betrayal, and the urge to smile disappeared. Thank God he’d retained enough sense to keep his mouth shut, to share his foolish plans with none but Evard. Had he really thought her so honorable that she wouldn’t betray him? A woman worthy enough to be his bride?

He did smile then. At his own stupidity. He felt robbed, betrayed by his own misguided instincts. Baron Lonsdale’s fury seemed trifling in comparison.

“This does not warrant bloodshed,” the bishop began. He crossed his arms over his generous girth and stroked his chin. “Only a woman’s husband has the right to take her innocence.” His dark gaze flickered toward Guy. “You do owe Baron Lonsdale reparations, Lord Guy. ’Tis my judgment and that of the Church that marriage shall be the reparation.”

Guy crossed his arms in a gesture that mimicked the
bishop’s stance, mocking and challenging at the same time. “And if I do not agree with your judgment?”

The bishop shrugged. “Then I shall concede judgment to Baron Lonsdale. Think hard on your decision, Montague. As a guest at Lonsdale you are within Baron Lonsdale’s power, and at this moment you are the man who wronged his niece. You may find my judgment more to your liking.”

“I see.” They were a simple lot, Guy decided, to plot such an obvious trap. Simpler still to believe they would snare him with it. “How long do I have to make my decision?”

“We will have your answer by tomorrow morning,” said the bishop. “None will say you came to your decision in haste.” He paused as he would in sermon, to let the importance of his words take hold. A marriage performed by a bishop, with the groom given a full day and night to accept or deny his bride. It would be a hard marriage to annul. “I am sure you will do what is best for everyone, Lord Guy.”

“There will be no marriage without a betrothal contract,” Lonsdale broke in. “I will not be denied the dower. The marriage cannot take place until the dower is in my hands.”

“And what dowry will you provide for your niece?” Guy’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but Lonsdale paid it no heed.

“Halford Hall will be her dowry,” he retorted. “I will provide nothing more than that. The dower will be twice the gold we agreed upon for the sale of Halford.”

Guy looked at Claudia. “Somehow I suspected as much.”

“He will remain confined until the ceremony can take place,” Lonsdale told the bishop, “else his men may think to spirit him away. Indeed, I believe it wise if his men were to set their camp outside my walls rather than within them.”

“That decision is yours to make, Laurence.”

Lonsdale gestured toward the guards. “Take him to the gatehouse tower and place him in the ransom chamber. Make sure of our guest’s comforts, but he is to carry no weapons and a guard will be at his door at all times. Rouse his men and send them on their way. They may return after the marriage.”

Guy spared another brief glance at Claudia. Silent tears
rolled down her cheeks, and her face looked as pale as the sheets. If this was an act, she was good at her craft. “I would inform my second-in-command of your, ah, decision,” he said to Lonsdale. “You may find my men more cooperative if their orders come from Evard de Cordray.”

“As you wish. Your second-in-command will be sent to meet with you in the ransom chamber.” Lonsdale gave him a mocking bow. “We will await your decision, Baron.”

Claudia watched four of the soldiers lead Guy away, stunned to immobility by everything that had just transpired. Not that she would want to go anywhere stark naked. She had an awful fear that her uncle might order just that. Her breath caught in her throat when he called one of his soldiers forward.

“Send a carpenter to repair this door. I want a bolt fashioned on the outside and a guard posted there to ensure that my niece does not leave this room for any reason. See that someone brings her food twice a day.”

“Aye, my lord.” The soldier bowed then hurried away to carry out his orders.

Lonsdale turned to Claudia, his gaze dispassionate. “You will remain here until the marriage can take place, and you will not make trouble of any sort. Do you understand me?”

She bowed her head so he would not see her anger. She had never particularly liked her uncle. Now she hated him. He had drugged her with some foul poison the night before, as surely as he’d drugged Guy. Now he was telling her to go along with Guy’s betrayal, to become a part of this filthy plot. She could barely speak the words. “I understand, my lord.”

“Excellent.” He turned to the bishop. “I must see that Montague’s men leave the castle as I ordered. If you will excuse me, Bishop?”

“We must talk further of this matter,” said the bishop.

“Very well. Let us meet after the nooning meal in my solar, if you find that convenient.” Lonsdale’s tone said he did not look forward to the meeting. The bishop looked displeased
at being put off for so many hours, but he gave Lonsdale a sharp nod.

The men left soon after, although one soldier remained in the hallway to stand guard at the broken door. He stood so that he faced Claudia, staring at her in a way that made her skin crawl. She pulled the sheets closer and looked away when he began to pick at what few teeth remained in his mouth. Her nightshift lay on the floor, so she tugged the sheets free of the mattress, then wrapped them securely around her. Another of her uncle’s shows of kindness, to leave her naked as a strumpet with his man set to watch her. Perhaps the soldier at the door was the one responsible for her state of undress in the first place. That thought made her shudder in disgust.

Rather than retrieve the nightshift, she walked to her clothes chest and pulled out a chemise and saffron-colored gown. Her grip on the sheets remained painfully tight, aware of the soldier’s gaze upon her every move. Thank heavens for the garderobe in her chamber. The tiny room would provide the privacy she needed to perform her morning ablutions and repair a few shreds of her pride. Not that her pride would ever be fully intact again after this morning’s work. She used her chemise to blot up the last of her tears and stepped into the small room to dress.

A carpenter had started work on the door when she emerged from the garderobe. A tray of food that sat atop the clothes chest held bread and cheese along with a mug of thin ale to break her fast. She pulled up the sewing stool next to the chest and started to eat. She would need her strength for what lay ahead. She glanced from the carpenter to the stonework around the fireplace. The lack of mortar along the crevices of certain stones was almost unnoticeable.

When she first arrived at Lonsdale her brothers had teased her about the hours she spent exploring every inch of the castle, but she remembered her mother’s story that there were secret hallways within the walls, that only the eldest son could be told of their location and the concealed doorways that led into them. But Claudia knew how to find them.

The secret passageways were the source of her troubles, the means by which Baron Lonsdale carried out his plot. Of that she was certain. Much more remained a blur. She could recall nothing more than flashes of the men who brought Guy to her bed, the half-formed images of shadowy figures and blinding torch light. It seemed a passing nightmare until she awoke to the gray light of dawn and seductive caresses. Guy had made her forget that anything might be wrong. Being with him felt so very right. His hands touched her and stirred to life emotions long denied in the years she spent at Lonsdale, feelings of tenderness, of being loved and cherished. For that brief, shining moment, she had lowered her guard and responded to him with all the love she kept bottled inside, the part of her that no one else wanted. Guy wanted her. She gave him her heart.

Then the illusion came crashing down around her. She should have realized sooner that what seems too good to be true never is. Like as not, Guy had not realized who he was in bed with, or would even care if he did know. He had simply responded as he would to any naked woman wanton enough to return his kisses. She felt very sorry for herself. Then she got angry.

Was that all she was to be allowed in this life, a brief glimpse of happiness? To be given that one small taste of what might be, then to have it snatched away forever was a cruelty she had never imagined. If she did nothing she would be tied for life to a man who despised her, to a man who could visit even greater cruelties upon her.

The emptiness she felt inside was a bottomless pit, as black and cold as it was numbing. She would survive, just as she had survived the many deaths in her family. But she would never be the same. Each person she loved took a part of her heart when they left her. Guy took a part she had never known existed.

She forced herself to swallow the tasteless food and washed it down with the last of the ale. The carpenter had finished his job and tried the latch several times to make sure
it worked. He spoke to the soldier in hushed tones, then doffed his cap and departed. She carried her tray to the doorway and handed it to the guard.

“A wench will bring your supper at dusk,” he told her.

“Please ask her to bring a bucket of water as well.”

He scowled at the request, but gave her a curt nod and closed the door. She heard the bolt slide into place.

Hours later Claudia wedged herself further into the crevice, certain that a woman smaller than herself or a child had designed the secret passage behind the solar. In the long morning she spent alone in her chamber, a plan began to take shape in her mind. At first she thought to make her own escape from the fortress. If she could reach London she could begin her search for her brother, Dante, yet a woman could not make such a journey alone. The forests were filled with wild beasts and the roads preyed upon by robbers.

Baron Montague had many well-armed men outside the walls of Lonsdale. Even they might seek to harm her if she stumbled across them, for they surely held her responsible for their baron’s plight. If she helped Guy escape as well, he might provide the escort she needed to London. It would be much more difficult to free them both, yet without him she would never reach Dante. She could do nothing until nightfall, but in the meantime she decided to learn what she could of her uncle’s plot.

She turned sideways in the passage and prayed. This would not be a pleasant place to get stuck. She would not even think about the possibility of rats.

The walls could become no tighter when the passage opened into a small, square chamber, lit by small eye-level cracks on three sides. Even here she could smell the strong pomander that Uncle Laurence used to scent his clothing, a cloying mixture of ground cloves and balsam that he favored for reasons known only to himself. The sound of his voice echoed in the chamber, and she leaned toward one opening, then looked into the solar.

Her uncle stood near the fireplace with one arm propped against the mantel. His blond hair had turned a yellowed shade of white with age, but his pale blue eyes still reflected an alert, devious mind. He wore a long burgundy and gold tunic, the colors of Lonsdale, and he rested a mug atop the buckle of his sword belt.

Bishop Germaine sat in a high-backed chair before the fireplace. She could see little more of him than the top of his gleaming bald head, but she could hear his words clearly enough. “What have you involved me in, Laurence? I would stake my life that what you told me this morning is not the whole of it.”

“Do not fret,” said Lonsdale. “I will pay you well for your part in this.”

“Aye, that you will,” he agreed, “but I will know all of my part, not some hurried explanation when I am half awake and roused at dawn. And you may cease your insistence that Montague seduced the girl. We both know that is not the truth.”

“We will both be wealthy men,” Lonsdale insisted. “With the Church’s decree that Montague marry my niece, he will know he has no choice in the matter. The dower will be paid, and the marriage will take place.”

“And a war will soon follow,” added the bishop. “You cannot think that Montague will not exact retribution for this deception. What possessed you to concoct this hoax?”

Lonsdale raked one hand through his hair, his tone impatient. “He knows something is amiss with Halford Hall. I showed him the articles at the feast yesterday, but he said he wanted more time to consider the matter. If he did not suspect some trickery, he would have signed the articles then and there. I will lose everything if he discovers Halford is not mine to sell.”