The Loyal Heart (37 page)

“I’m going to fight them!” Ethan met his eyes, the barest hint of a grin flashing in his expression.

“Fight my sister you mean.”

“Yes!”

“Ethan,” Geoffrey began like a scolding father.

“She made her choice.” Ethan took a step forward, his body bristling with anger. “Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me all along?”

“Of course, but-”

“And I’ve made mine.” Geoffrey sank into his saddle and appealed to the heavens for help. “I don’t care who stands between me and my land. Huntingdon, Aubrey, it makes no difference to me. I want what’s mine and I will get it!”

“How, you daft fool?”

Ethan dropped his arms, staring off at the tents around the common, eyes glittering with spite. “My land will be the ransom.”

Cold dread crept down Geoffrey’s spine but he kept his face calm and bored. “And who will you be ransoming, might I ask?”

Ethan stared straight at him, boring a hole through his head. “Prince John.”

Geoffrey burst into laughter. “She’s just a woman, Windale! No need to get yourself killed over her.”

“My name is not Windale anymore. I am Ethan of Derbywood.”

Geoffrey threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. “Of course. Ethan of Derbywood, deadly highwayman, kidnapper of royalty.” When Ethan didn’t share in the joke Geoffrey’s face dropped. He gaped at his friend. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

“Dead is more like it if you try.”

Ethan shook his head. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way what? To end up dangling from the end of a rope? If you even get that far.” He shook his head at the utter madness Ethan was talking and glanced to Toby for help. Toby bit his lip and silently pleaded with him to talk his master out of it. Geoffrey sighed and turned back to his friend. “What’s your plan?”

“We find a way into the castle while the prince is in residence. We create a distraction and take him when no one is looking.” Ethan’s eyes flashed with purpose and the menacing young man shadowing him licked his lips. For some reason the boy made him think of murder. Toby was near tears as he glanced to Geoffrey.

It was the most feeble excuse for a plan Geoffrey had ever heard. “A distraction. In Derby castle. So you can kidnap Prince John.” He puffed out a breath and fixed Ethan with a flat stare. His friend was unmovable. His sister was special, but he didn’t think she was worth suicide. His wry smile faded. Ethan was as changeable as the wind, always had been. The only way to stop him from charging off a cliff was to run beside him. “Fine. I’ll help.”

A self-satisfied smile spread across Ethan’s face. Toby jumped forward with a yelp. “Sir Geoffrey, you can’t let him-”

“What do you need me to do?” he interrupted.

Ethan took a step back to consider as Toby sputtered between the two of them. When neither man backed down an inch he tossed up his hands and sank to sit in the dirt. Ethan ignored him. “I need someone inside Derby to keep me informed. And I need a map showing where the prince is lodging.”

“Done.” Geoffrey nodded without even thinking about it. It was about time he rejoined the rest of the world anyhow. “I’ll be in place by nightfall.”

“And you’ll send me a letter with the map, let me know when the prince is coming, how and when I can best strike?”

He sighed and pulled his horse’s reins tighter, wheeling him around. “God help me, Ethan, I will.”

“Good.”

The two friends nodded at each other as Toby continued to wither into pieces at the turn of events. Geoffrey turned his horse to go but stopped. He stared hard at Ethan one last time. Ethan’s grudge went far beyond just his land and it was high time he recognize it.

“She’s just a woman, Ethan, and now she’s someone else’s woman.” Ethan glared bitterly at him. “Move on.”

A day later Aubrey still hadn’t been able to get a good idea of what was going on, but not for lack of trying. Pennington seemed delighted to have someone other than Buxton to talk to. A little too delighted.

During their first meeting Pennington had learned she had run Morley by herself for a time, been engaged to Crispin and had the engagement broken off by her brother, how and where Geoffrey had been wounded, and that she had spent countless days and nights playing chess with her brother. She had learned that Pennington liked chess and women who were outspoken. And not much else. She had a world of second thoughts about spending time with him and started carrying Crispin’s wolf-head dagger concealed in her boot. She kept at it though. They needed to know what he was really doing in the castle, Crispin needed to know.

“In London,” Pennington explained as they sat on either side of a chess table in front of a roaring fire, “a woman like you would vie for attention with Queen Eleanor herself, Lady Huntingdon. ”

Aubrey smiled and cleared her throat. His eyes made her feel as if her dress were too low cut. “As I understand it,” Aubrey slid her queen across the board to a fortified position, ready for attack, “the Queen Mother cares more for her possessions on the continent than England.”

Pennington shrugged as he studied the board, elbow propped on the arm of his chair. “What the Queen Mother does not care for is rivals, so perhaps it is best that you remain in Derby.”

“What do you mean?”

He smirked at her with leonine grace. “Don’t tell me you can’t see the way every man in the castle looks at you, my lady.” The room went hot. When she didn’t reply he continued. “Why the looks your husband alone gives you would make the Queen purple with jealousy.”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow, trying to stay just as cool as he was. “And what do you know about it?” It was a clumsy attempt to get him to reveal something, but all of her smooth attempts had been complete failures.

“I can see that your husband values you more than any worldly possession,” Pennington turned the conversation right back on her.

“Really? What makes you think that?”

He moved a bishop to a point threatening her queen. “You are beautiful, you are intelligent, and, I suspect, you have talents that I have not yet seen.”

“Such as?”

Pennington laughed. “I would not dare to presume.” His eyes raked her. Her face went red. “Just don’t let Buxton see how devoted your husband is to you.”

Her skin crawled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They both knew that she did. She concentrated on the chess board so she wouldn’t have to see where his eyes wandered. “And then there is the problem with Derbywood.”

Like the pieces on the board, Aubrey felt as though she was being pushed into an undefended position. She moved her queen out of the danger she had been put in with a shrug. “Forests are a good place to hide,” she deliberately misunderstood him. “Are there forests near London?”

“London is a hot, miserable, smelly city.”

His evasiveness was driving her crazy. She went out on a limb as she studied the chess board, eyes turned down under long dark lashes. “Are you married, sir?”

He laughed and moved a pawn into the path of her attack. “Alas, my duty is not one that lends itself to marriage.” Aubrey tried not to scream in irritation. He was teasing her now and she couldn’t figure out how to get away from it. “But I will remember that you asked.” He arched his eyebrow and smoothed his oily moustache.

She grinned back, although inwardly she crawled with disgust. “I suppose being a servant of the crown is very time consuming. Do you travel a lot?”

He nodded to her and his overly warm expression did not change. “Incessantly.”

She felt as if she were on the edge of a discovery and on the edge of a very deep hole she had dug herself. “Have you met Prince John before?” she asked, taking one of his pawns with her knight.

“Of course,” he shrugged.

She raised her eyebrows. If Pennington already knew Prince John, then why did he need to come all the way to Derby to discuss peace? “I have never met him.” She feigned the same expectation she had heard from the mass of noblewomen loitering around the castle. “What’s he like?”

Pennington took his time in answering. “He is a man of great ambition,” he answered. He picked up his queen and moved her all the way across the board, taking the pawn in front of her king. “Checkmate,” he said with a solemn nod. Aubrey sighed, kicking herself that she hadn’t seen his sneak attack before. “Tell me, Lady Huntingdon, have you ever played a game of human chess?”

Still stared at the board trying to figure out where she had gone wrong before hearing him. “
Human
chess?” Something about the idea didn’t sit well with her. “No, I don’t believe I have.”

“It is more or less the same game we play at this table, only the board is laid out in a courtyard or great hall and the pieces are people.”

She kept her face relaxed and interested in spite of her suspicion. “How does it work when a piece is taken?”

“The men playing the pieces fight. The winner takes the square.”

“What, regardless of the actual rules of chess? Wouldn’t that be an extravagant danger to the men playing?”

“The rules of combat supplant the rules of the game.” He spread his hands with their many rings wide. “It is quite intriguing to watch.” Barbaric was more like it, Aubrey found herself thinking. He seemed to see her thoughts. “They do not fight with real weapons, Lady Huntingdon, but with practice lathes and padded clubs. No one is hurt.” He shrugged. “Unless that is the point of a particular game.”

“I see.” She smiled. “It sounds fascinating.”

He shifted forward in his chair. “You are a skilled player, Lady Huntingdon.” He leered at her. “I propose that you and I put together an entertainment for Prince John.”

“A human chess match?” Her heart beat faster at all of the possibilities for disaster a game like that could present. And yet it would give her a chance to interact with him more, to get to the bottom of who he was. Now more than ever she sensed that he was no man of peace.

“Yes, why not? It is an entertainment enjoyed by all the crowns of Europe. It’s quite the fashion in London these days. You assemble your team and I will assemble mine and we will present the activity after the negotiations have been conducted. It will be a fitting way to end the parlay: a final, symbolic battle to represent the end of hostilities in England.”

“You can’t really hope to solve a barely concealed war of succession all the way up here in Derby,” she dared, hoping she could get what she needed and not have to spend another second in his company.

He smiled. “One can always hope, Lady Huntingdon.”

His words were pretty indeed, but there was something about Pennington that made Aubrey think of danger and violence. He was polite, learned, and well-mannered, if salacious, but something lurked under the oily surface. “I have an unfair advantage.” She sat in her chair as though she were comfortable.

“Which is?”

“I am familiar with the people here in Derby. I would have a better idea of who to choose to be on my team. I would beat you.” She tried to decide if putting together a human chess game would keep Buxton happy and help Crispin to figure out what was going on.

“I have brought a few of my own men with me.” He waved off her concern. “And I am sure Alfie would lend me some of his.”

And where that would lead Aubrey had no idea. “Alright. I accept your challenge.”

“I am pleased to hear it.” He nodded, the smooth grin still on his face. “And now, would you like to play this lowly table game again?”

Crispin stormed through the city of Derby in a cold, driving rain, his cloak pulled tight around his neck to keep chilly rivulets of water from dribbling down his back and annoying him more than he already was. Aubrey was with Pennington, playing chess. It took every ounce of his strength not to charge up to the castle to rescue his beautiful, bright, and bull-headed wife from whatever machinations were entangling them both. She really was his wife now, in every way, and the animal instinct to protect and to kill for her raged hotter than ever in his gut.

He threw his focus into work in an attempt to sidestep it. The rain had washed out two days of the faire now, including the joust. The city was writhing with restless people hoping for a peek of sun. The sun was not obliging, so the city was ready to burst. The only bright spot in the entire wretched mess was the messenger who had arrived late last night with word that the prince had paused his journey in Leicester rather than slog through the rain. It was one less irritation to deal with and one less distraction from Buxton’s deadly game at the castle.

Lights were on and talking and laughter spilled out of houses, but the streets themselves were abandoned. When he turned the corner along the thoroughfare that cut in front of the city wall he stopped at the sight of two figures huddled together near the gate. They each wore sodden cloaks that hung heavy around their legs. He would have ignored the sight, but one man wore a patched and tattered cloak and the showed only one leg and a crutch below the hem of the fine cloak. Crispin stopped where he was and watched. Aubrey hadn’t told him that her brother was in town.

Geoffrey and the man in the patched cloak were deep in discussion, almost arguing. Crispin narrowed his eyes and tried to see past the hood of the patched cloak. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. When Geoffrey stepped back and reached into his cloak Crispin caught a glimpse of wide, worried brown eyes in a pale face, eyes like Aubrey’s maid Joanna. Crispin’s scowl darkened. Geoffrey presented a small square of parchment and pressed it on Toby. He snatched it away and stuffed it under the folds of his cloak before turning to go.