Page 32 of A Knight’s Vengeance

Geoffrey leaned back in his chair and stretched out his booted legs. “In a few days. First, I want Brackendale to agonize over his daughter’s fate. Then, in exchange for her return, I shall demand my rightful inheritance as Edouard de Lanceau’s first born son.”

With his finger, Dominic traced a deep mar in the tabletop. “Will you ask for Brackendale’s life, too?”

“I shall not have to. When he raises his sword to me in combat, I will not spare him.” Geoffrey imagined drawing his sword in that delicious moment, and his fingers curled and uncurled. His palm warmed with the imagined rub of leather, and the weapon’s slashing weight.

’Twould be a sweet victory.

Dominic frowned. His gaze shifted to the ledger. “There is also the matter of Viscon. Will you pay him to fight for you? He has already demanded a high fee for his part in the abduction and, I might add, has bedded down with one of the maidservants and made no move to leave.”

Geoffrey waved away Dominic’s disapproval. “I do not like the man either, but I have asked him to stay. His price is no greater than others of his profession.”

Exasperation gleamed in Dominic’s eyes. “Where will you get the silver? Have you received payment from Pietro?”

At mention of the Venetian merchant, Geoffrey smiled. He would forever be grateful that Pietro had befriended him when he was in the care of the Knights Hospitallers, at a time when Geoffrey had wished each night for death. Pietro had introduced him and Dominic to the riches of the Eastern silk and spice trade.

Aye, and Pietro had shown Geoffrey that every man had his price. When it came to his mistress.

Or his daughter.

“I do not expect the profits from the silk shipments till the first frosts. I have some silver in my coffers. I also have this.” Geoffrey drew near the wooden chest, flipped open the lid, and withdrew Elizabeth’s gold brooch.

“By the saints.” Dominic picked it up and held it at his eye level. Sunlight gleamed off the delicate design. “Where did you get it?”

“Lady Elizabeth.”

Dominic whistled and weighed the gold in his palm. “Worth a fair price, I vow.”

Geoffrey grinned. “Enough to pay several more mercenaries.”

“The brooch seems of an older style.”

“It belonged to the lady’s mother. When the lady first asked after it, I thought she missed a pretty trinket. Then I looked into her eyes, and⁠—”

Dominic eyed him with fascination. Did he expect some kind of profound confession?

Geoffrey snapped his jaw shut. He would not admit compassion for her. “I do not care if ’tis important to her. Now, it belongs to me.”

“You should return it.” Dominic’s fingers brushed over the design. “If you kill Brackendale and seize his lands, she will have naught. The coin from selling this brooch would provide her an income for several years, at least until she finds a husband.”

“She is betrothed to the baron. He will provide for her.”

Dominic’s mirthless laughter cut into Geoffrey’s thoughts. “I doubt Sedgewick will still want her, when she no longer comes with a large dowry.”

Geoffrey resisted a stab of guilt. He would not care for the damsel, or cripple his ambitions with concerns for her welfare. Not when revenge was so close.

Over the crackling fire, he heard the patter of footsteps. He glanced up, and saw Elena. She looked tired and flustered, and he realized she had come from Elizabeth’s chamber.

He beckoned Elena over to the table.

She curtsied. “M-milord?” Her face looked pale.

“How is the lady?”

“She would not eat.” Elena stared down at her fingers, linked tightly together. “She refused. S-she said she cared not for lumpy gruel.”

Geoffrey downed the last of his ale and dried his mouth with his hand. “You left the fare with her?”

“Aye, but I do not think she will eat it.” Elena’s hands shook. “I helped her dress in the clothes you sent for her, but she almost ripped them to shreds. She shouted and cursed like a wild woman.”