Theodora’s slipper.
“I stole it from the pile of ruined clothing she discarded before she left the village,” Leland said. “The earl said he’s coming for you, milord. And that naught will stop him. Not even the king.”
That did rather sound like something Gerard would boast of.
“Iam the earl,” Glayer muttered, ignoring the sudden galloping of his heart in his chest. “Fine.” He turned to one of his soldiers. “Ride on to Thurston Hold and rouse the rest of the men so that they might prepare. I want Constantine Gerard—if he actually still lives—cut into teeny, tiny pieces and sprinkled over what’s left of that pathetic town. And then I will choke the breath out of Theodora Rosemont myself. That bitch. She’ll ruin my status as an eligible widower.”
He wheeled his horse around. “What are you waiting for? Go!”
“Milord?” Leland pressed.
Glayer gave a groan and looked down. “What now?”
“What shall I do?” Leland looked up at him expectedly.
“Hmm.” Glayer, sidling his horse away from the man, looked at him as if considering. “Probably not return to Benningsgate. Perhaps drop yourself down a hole?” Glayer kicked at his horse, and it leaped toward the black outline of Thurston Hold.
“Lord Felsteppe!” the cripple cried after him. “Wait! I’ve nowhere else to go! My lord! Please!”
Glayer looked over his shoulder to see the man trotting down the road, holding his useless arm against his side, likely to keep it from flopping about.
“My God, is he following me?” Glayer muttered. He sighed and turned ’round. “Go back and take care of that,” he said to the hired sword on his right. “Once I get out of this saddle, I simply must sit down properly, and yet I can’t have him alerting the entire countryside.”
The mercenary wheeled his horse from the party, drawing his sword as he turned.
“What are you doing?” the man called from the road, his voice growing fainter beneath the sound of the pounding hooves and the distance Glayer was putting between them.
“What are you doing? No! No! Plea—”
Glayer didn’t bother looking back.
Chapter 24
Constantine watched Theodora place the now sleeping baby in the low cradle as the maid left the chamber, closing the door quietly after herself. The baby had been fed and changed, Dori insisting upon wiping the whole of the child down with warm, sweet water, as if she would cleanse little William of the memory of those who had held him before his mother. She had done her awkward best with the infant, and to her credit, William had not once cried out in fear.
Now that they were alone in the smaller, less-ornate chamber the servant had shown them to and the baby had been tended, Dori moved to the small table where Constantine sat with his cup resting on his knee. She reached out to pick up the other cup, then plucked a piece of cheese from the small repast provided them.
“Shall I leave while you attend your toilette?” he asked, his eyes flicking to the plum-colored velvet Eirene of Glencovent had provided, which was presently laid across the end of the bed.
Dori held his gaze while she chewed, even over the rim of her cup. She lowered it and licked her lips. “Do you want to leave?”
He shook his head. “No.” He held his cup forth as she picked up the decanter and she filled it without comment. “But if I am to stay, we must discuss the future.”
She set the vessel back on the table. “All right.”
“I’ve nothing to offer you,” he said. “No home save the pile of rocks that is now Benningsgate. No wealth. Perhaps not even the dignity of my name, as badly battered as it has become.”
She watched him, her gamine face cocked, as if considering what he’d said. “I don’t suppose you can claim any of those things yet,” she admitted. “But I believe you will have all of them restored to you in time.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “It is certainly my desire now to rebuild Benningsgate. I’ll find a way.”
“Then we might talk about what I will bring to you,” Dori suggested, and the fact that she had not moved close enough for Constantine to be within his reach irritated him, like an itch he was prevented from scratching. “Rather than the lack you perceive on your part, I bring a surplus of things you may have no interest in. A home of my own. Another man’s child. The taint of my—quite deservedly earned—reputation.”
Constantine grinned. “I happen to admire your reputation very much.”
“Do you want me, Constantine?” she asked boldly, and set down her cup before stepping into the space between his knees. “Not just my body—I’m not so naïve as to be oblivious to our attraction to each other. But I come with my past, mistakes and ugliness. Obligations and burdens. Uncertainty.”
Constantine stood, causing Dori to turn her face up to his in order to look at him.
