Page 125 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“You do not like that Elizabeth and I are betrothed.”

Hostility flashed in Arthur’s eyes. “You may have won Wode, de Lanceau, but I will not stay silent any longer. I am a man of honor. I will respect the agreements made during our fight, but it irks me to see you lord of what was once my home, drinking the finest wine in the keep, and being treated like a hero.” He dragged a shaking hand through his hair. “You have taken all from me—my home, my lands, my titles. Is it any wonder that I resent your claim to my daughter?”

Dread clutched at Elizabeth. Before she could try to ease the tense situation, Geoffrey said, “Elizabeth. Mildred. Leave us. I wish to speak to Lord Brackendale alone.”

Elizabeth dried her clammy palms on her skirt, put aside the chemise, and stood. Mayhap ’twould be better if her father and Geoffrey settled their differences now. She took Mildred’s arm and walked out.

The matron pulled the door shut. “What will they discuss?”

“I do not know.” Elizabeth suppressed a shiver. Geoffrey either meant to reconcile with her father, or punish him for his outburst. Yet, Geoffrey was still very weak.

Crouching down, the matron pressed her ear to the keyhole. “Harrumph! I cannot hear a word.”

“Why do we not walk in the garden? I would enjoy some fresh air. In truth, I will go mad if I must stand here and wait.”

“An excellent suggestion, milady. A walk will stretch my old bones, and I shall gather herbs for a fresh poultice, too.”

Refreshed after a long stroll, Elizabeth and Mildred returned to the chamber. The door remained closed.

Mildred crossed her arms. “’Tis most peculiar.”

“I agree.” Elizabeth strode to and fro, racking her thoughts for a good reason to intrude. She had just raised her hand to knock when she heard a most unexpected sound. Laughter.

The door flew open. Her father stood inside, his features warmed by a hearty grin and the effects of at least one goblet of red wine, held in his hand. Without a word, he took Elizabeth in his arms and hugged her.

“Father, what happened?” she asked, the sound muffled against his jerkin.

“All is well.” He released her from his embrace, and his eyes shone. “I am to remain lord of Wode.”

“You are? Geoffrey⁠—?”

“—told me all,” Arthur said, “of his anguish over his father’s death, his desire for revenge, the silk trade, his dreams for my lands… but most of all, of his love for you.”

She tried to hold back tears. “What of Geoffrey’s desire to reclaim Wode?”

“He ceded the keep and all of my titles back to me, provided he can ship his cloth up and down the river from Branton.”

“’Tis wondrous news,” Elizabeth cried.

“I suggested he petition the crown for Sedgewick’s lands. ’Twould be just for Geoffrey to be granted them.” Arthur touched her arm. “He also told me of the garments you are embroidering for the orphanage. We both agree ’tis an excellent cause. Each year, from this year onward, we will work together to donate such a gift. Whatever you need now so you can finish—cloth, embroiderers, coin—you shall have.”

Joy burst inside her. “Oh, Father!”

Arthur grinned. “De Lanceau will make you a fine husband, for a rogue.”

Elizabeth hurried into the chamber. Geoffrey lay propped against a mound of pillows. He looked drawn, exhausted, but content. At last, his soul seemed to have found peace.

He smiled, and she bent down and kissed him.

“I could not take Wode from your sire and hurt you,” he murmured, his breath brushing her cheek. “I do not think my father would have wanted it, either.”

Tears streamed down her face. “Thank you.”

His fingers caught hers. “We will be happy at Branton, you and I.”

“Aye, we shall.” She kissed him again.

Behind her, she heard Mildred’s wistful sigh.