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“The circumstances?”

The hair on his arms stood straight as he waited for Malcolm’s explanation. He knew, of course, what he meant, but there was no way he could—

“His daughter,” he confirmed with a glance toward the Prison Tower. “Does the earl know Lady Clarissa—”

Aidan advanced on Malcolm so quickly that he actually took a step back.

“How,” he ground out, “do you know about that?”

Malcom had not known why he’d been sent to fetch Father Simon.

Fear, the kind he’d only experienced a few times in his life, crept up his back and laid claim to every bone in his body. They’d told no one of her presence save Gillian, Fiona, Morgan, and Lewis. Not one of them would have uttered a word of Clarissa’s presence here. And if someone had chanced to see them the night they’d gone to the river, none would have known her identity.

“Malcolm?”

“A rumor, ’tis all. One Donnon heard from a servant he met on the road who’d come from Sutworth. But none would dare—”

“Goddammit.”

Theffield knew.

Cursing, he looked toward the tower where Clarissa waited for him to return as he’d promised to do after speaking to Graeme.

She couldn’t stay here. Theffield likely planned to send men here to search for her after he lured Aidan across the border. He could ask Allie and Reid to hide her, but there was no time to go to Brockburg, the opposite direction of Theffield Castle.

He didn’t need to think on it any longer. There was one place she would be safe. One family that would take her in, without question, and luckily, he’d been heading there already, though he was unsure why Douglas specifically requested Lawrence’s presence.

* * *

The poor steward had appeared confused, but he’d gone to fetch Lawrence nonetheless. Aidan had known the steward since he was old enough to ride to Bowden Castle, and he and Lawrence had gotten themselves into plenty of questionable situations before.

This would certainly qualify as the most questionable of them all.

“Let me guess,” Lawrence said as he stepped out into the night, stretching his mouth wide in a yawn. “My good friend Aidan de Sowlis and his lovely Lady Clarissa.”

With her hood pulled down over her brow, it was impossible to see her face. Even when she looked up at Lawrence, only her chin and cheeks were visible.

And her lips.

Aidan should be thinking of many things, but he certainly should not be thinking of Clarissa’s lips.

“’Tis good to see you again,” she said to his friend, her words barely loud enough for them to hear.

“And you, my lady.” Lawrence lifted his brows, waiting.

“Not here,” Aidan whispered, pulling them into an alcove not far from where they stood.

“We need your help,” he said.

“Then it is yours.”

Aidan looked down at his thumb before even realizing he’d done so. Lawrence must have seen him, because he lifted his own thumb.

Lawrence laughed and glanced at Clarissa. “How old were we, ten and one?”

“Ten and two.”

“And convinced our older brothers both thought us children.”