Page 117 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“Why not? Why the secrecy?”

“Mayhap we shall never know.” Her sire’s gaze moved to Geoffrey, lying as still as a dead man beneath the blankets. Dominic knelt by his side, his head bowed.

Elizabeth stared down at the precious parchment and wept. For the past eighteen years, Geoffrey had been haunted by a lie.

Would he live to know the truth?

CHAPTER 21

Hugging her arms to her chest, Elizabeth made her way across the shadowed bailey. Overhead, the black sky gleamed with stars and a swollen half-moon, but she kept her eyes on the pitted ground as she walked and tried to make sense of her tangled thoughts.

The cool breeze stung her tear-streaked face and stirred her mantle. What to believe. Geoffrey had insisted that his father’s loyalty to the crown never wavered. In the end, Geoffrey was right, her father wrong, all because of a secret someone did not want unearthed.

Head down, she skirted a cat devouring its night’s kill and kept walking, her shoes crunching on loose stones. Was it selfish to want Geoffrey to live so very, very much? She would sacrifice all to have him know at last the truth about his sire, to have Geoffrey hold her in his arms again and whisper words of love, while he joined his body with hers.

The night wind gusted, and leaves rustled overhead. Elizabeth looked up, startled, to find she had wandered as far as the garden’s giant apple tree. Ahead, moonlight silvered the stone path dividing Mildred’s neat, tended vegetable and herb beds, and tempted Elizabeth to linger a little longer.

Nay. She had not meant to go so far. She should return to Geoffrey’s side. Savoring the tang of lavender in the calming breeze, she turned to go back to the keep.

Hushed conversation drifted to her.

“I want it done this evening,” a man said. “Without fail.” The familiar nasal voice sent unease racing through her.

Drawing her mantle close to her body, Elizabeth peered around the tree’s trunk. Two figures stood beneath the pear tree. The baron had his back to her. The other person wore a voluminous hooded cloak, which concealed all features.

She hesitated, for she had no right to eavesdrop on a private meeting. Yet, as she watched, the baron reached into his sleeve and withdrew a small object. A silver vial.

“Use half. ’Tis more than enough poison to end de Lanceau’s miserable life, but this time, I want no mistakes.”

Elizabeth clamped her hand over her mouth.

“My payment first,” came a woman’s voice. Veronique.

“Nay. First, de Lanceau dies, and then Brackendale. You have the dagger?”

“Of course I do.” Veronique tilted her head, her beautiful features illuminated for the briefest moment. “Are you certain that you will have married the little strumpet by then?”

Sedgewick chuckled. “With de Lanceau dead tonight, there will be no further impediment to my marriage. I shall wed the lady on the morrow. Arthur, stupid fool that he is, will be all too delighted that I am willing to save her sullied reputation. He will welcome me with open arms.”

“And she with open legs?” Veronique said with a cruel laugh.

“She will accept me. She will have no choice.”

Shaking, Elizabeth shrank back against the rough tree bark. Fear slashed deep. She must tell her father.

With a swirl of the cloak, Veronique vanished into the shadows. Sedgewick turned and moonlight shone full on his face. He grinned, a merciless twist of his mouth.

Keeping to the darkest shadows, Elizabeth headed toward the keep. A pebble rattled under her foot. She cringed.

“Who is there?” Sedgewick called.

Cold sweat broke on her brow, but she kept walking.

“Elizabeth, my love, is that you?”

The baron’s voice reached her across the path and clawed at her senses. She should have realized ’twould be impossible to hide from him. Her mind screamed with urgency, even as she forced herself to calm. If he did not suspect she had overheard, he would let her be on her way.

Feigning surprise, she faced him. “Baron?”