Page 57 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“Do not blame yourself.” Elizabeth sat back in the chair and set the trapping on the side table. Lowering her voice, she added, “I will not complete it. We will be free before then.”

The matron grinned.

Moments later, de Lanceau left the hall, holding the parchment. Dominic walked at his side. As soon as the rogue disappeared from view, Elizabeth exhaled a long breath. Her rigid posture eased.

Mildred soon succumbed to the fire’s warmth and dozed with her chin drooping to the front of her gown.

While Elizabeth stitched the tunic, she heard the servants talking, the rattle of crockery as they cleared and scrubbed the tables, the yelp of a dog when it got underfoot. She also learned to distinguish the voices of the two guards by the stairwell, who amused themselves with a game of dice as the day passed. From their rough conversation, she gathered the keep had one well, a gatehouse guarded day and night, and too few horses for their liking, details she tucked away at the back of her mind for her and Mildred’s escape.

The fire had burned low when Elizabeth tied the final knot in the thread. Smothering a yawn, she held the tunic up to the fading sunshine and shook out the creases. The embroidery caught the firelight and flashed like a fish out of water.

“’Tis an excellent repair, milady.” The matron smiled and looked refreshed after her nap.

“It did mend well.” Elizabeth inspected the tiny stitches one last time, pleased herself at how she could not see where the tear had once split the pattern on the hem.

Her eyes shining, Elena came to the hearth. “Milady, the tunic looks new again. How can I thank you for helping me?”

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand and trapped another yawn. She thought of the agreement Dominic had struck with her that morning that had brought her to the hall, and bit back a disappointed sigh. The rogue had never intended to keep his word.

Shifting in the chair, she eased the cramp in her bottom from sitting so long on a hard seat. With a rueful laugh, she said, “A hot bath would be wonderful.”

Elena nodded. “I will fetch it.”

Elizabeth almost fell out of her chair. “What did you say?”

“Milord told me to bring a bath upon your request.”

“He did?” After their heated words regarding the trapping earlier, she had not expected him to follow through with his vow.

“Lord de Lanceau is a man of great honor. He would never break his word. Not a promise made to a lady.”

“How chivalrous,” Elizabeth murmured and glanced at Mildred, who arched an eyebrow.

“I shall send the bath to your chamber, milady,” Elena said. “I will come and assist you as soon as I have fetched soap, towels, and a basin to rinse your hair.” She curtsied and hurried away, muttering under her breath and ticking off items on her fingers as she went.

At the tromp of approaching footsteps, Elizabeth stood. The guards had come to escort her and Mildred to their chambers.

After anchoring the needle into the remaining thread, she placed both on the table beside the folded tunic. She turned and hugged Mildred. “I will see you anon.”

She drew away, but the matron took her hand. “I am glad he granted you the bath. The rogue has a heart, after all.”

Elizabeth frowned. “We shall see.”

A smile touched Mildred’s lips. “I think we shall.”

Geoffrey met Elena in the stairwell. Head down, one hand flat against the stone wall, she almost ran into him as she descended the spiraling passage.

“Milord.” She dropped into an awkward curtsey.

“You are out of breath.” He squinted up at her through the smoky torchlight and wished he could read her expression. “All is well?”

“I am fetching the lady’s bath.”

“She has finished the tunic?”

Elena’s head bobbed. “You will be most pleased.”

He stepped to one side and motioned for the maid to pass. Her footsteps faded as he climbed the last steps, two at a time, to the great hall.