“Good day, Jeremy,” Constantine said to the man. “You’re looking well.”
The man—Jeremy, apparently—gave a choking gasp and staggered forward to fall to his knees in the wet grass at Constantine’s side.
“My lord?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Is it really you?” He tried to shove the wide head of the dog away before grasping two fistfuls of Constantine’s tunic. Then he actually shook the lord of Benningsgate as he shouted, “Is it really you?”
Constantine grinned. “I worried for a moment that Erasmus wouldn’t recognize me, He was little more than a pup when last I saw him.”
Jeremy gave a shout of joy and drew Constantine to him in an embrace. Dori was surprised to see the plump man’s shoulders shaking with—well, laughter or sobs, she supposed. But she had been a poor judge of emotion only a moment before, and so she wasn’t entirely certain. Although she was relatively sure Constantine was no longer in danger.
She bent her knees and laid the man’s cane on the grass as inconspicuously as possible, straightening and then using her foot to push it farther away from her person.
Jeremy drew back, grasping Constantine by the shoulders and looking into his face. His expression was still.
“My lord, Lady Patrice; our young master . . .”
Constantine’s throat convulsed. “I know, Jeremy.”
Dori’s chest tightened, but she was startled from her compassion by a warm, hairy dampness on her hand. She jerked her arm away and looked down to find that the monstrous dog had sidled up to her left elbow and was now looking up at her with black, mournful eyes.
No, she mouthed down at the beast.
It scooted slightly closer to her on its haunches and gave a soft whine.
“Come now, Erasmus; let the lady be,” Jeremy said as he grasped Constantine by his arm and pulled him to his feet. “You’ve already thoroughly wet his lordship through.” The man turned to her and gave a bow, his eyes only barely flicking over her conspicuously short hair. “My apologies, my . . . er, milady. Jeremy’s the name—loyal swineherd to the house of Chase since I was a lad.”
Dori felt a twinge of shame at her appearance, a foreign sensation after being so desperately alone for so long with her thoughts consumed by little more than survival. She could only imagine what she looked like to this man.
“How do you do?” Dori said stiffly and glanced at Constantine. “I apologize for striking you. I misunderstood your intent.”
Constantine stepped forward and reached out to scratch the dog’s head. The animal went willingly back to his side, much to Dori’s relief. “It’s a habit of hers I’ve found, Jeremy, upon making the acquaintance of men.”
Dori’s cheeks tingled. At least he hadn’t told the swineherd her name.
“This is the lady Theodora Rosemont of Thurston Hold.”
The man’s hooded eyes widened. “Lady Theodora? But I thought—”
“Yes, well, I’m quite alive.” Dori bristled, her stomach clenching as she glared at Constantine Gerard. Was he out to ruin everything? “Apparently.”
The corners of Jeremy’s mouth turned down and he gave a knowing nod. “That does explain a lot,” he said, but his eyes were no longer kind on her. “Your actions, I mean.”
Dori frowned, and a hot rush of humiliation washed over her. Even the simplest villager not of her own home thought her a horror. He hadn’t even said he was glad she wasn’t dead.
Would there be anyone who was glad of it?
The man gave her anther brisk bow and then turned back to Constantine. “When did you return, milord? There have been many inquiries as to your whereabouts the past several years; have you been to see the king yet? Does he know you’ve returned?”
Constantine let a long silence fill the air as he scratched the enraptured dog’s head. “No one save yourself knows that I or Lady Theodora are alive, let alone at Benningsgate. I arrived more than a fortnight ago and have been making my plans.”
“I see,” Jeremy said, in a tone that conveyed he might not. He glanced at Dori. “What’s she doing here, if you’ll forgive my asking, milord? You still have my loyalty, and the loyalty of what few of us remain below in the village, but I’d wager not many would be willing to help her after what she drove her poor father to. You might not know that she left a new babe behind at Thurston, although the right bastard she married let it be thought she’d died.” He said it as a challenge, as if daring her to deny it.
Dori stiffened and waited for Constantine’s response with her eyes fixed on the hillside. It was clear by the contempt in Jeremy’s tone that he thought her of the same ilk as Glayer Felsteppe. She would not acknowledge the swineherd’s comments, but she was curious as to what Lord Gerard’s reaction would be, when she had only just explained to him the events that had led up to her father’s death.
“Lady Theodora is . . .” Constantine began and then paused. She could feel his gaze on her, as if using the spare moments of his silence to come to a weighty decision. Dori’s chin lifted.
“She is helping me recover Benningsgate,” Constantine finished, and Dori didn’t know she’d been holding her breath until it began to leak out in a cool rush through her nose.
“Is that so?” Jeremy had the audacity to question in a more than slightly suspicious tone. Or perhaps he was only intrigued by this turn of events. It had been so long since anyone had said anything kind to her that Dori couldn’t be sure.
