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“Thou’s finally worked it out. Their dowries came in useful. As will thine.”
Adelina didn’t need to ask what had happened to the three dead women. She already knew.
Grinning, Glenda brandished a large metal key. “Don’t bother thy pretty head plotting an escape,” she warned before flouncing out.
Anger raged in Adelina’s heart when she heard the click of the key turning in the lock. She’d been a naive fool but, at least, she hadn’t given in to the temptation of telling the treacherous maid about sighting her brother.
She wondered if King John knew of the perfidy of the women who lived at Waterthwaite. He probably wouldn’t care if he heard rumor of it. Was the bedridden baron even aware of the crimes he was party to?
Hoping to see some sign of her rescuers, she hurried to the window slit. One eye closed, she squinted through the narrow opening, her shoulder pressed against the cold stone. Hope flickered to life when she espied Mandeville emerging from a farm building, her dowry chest still tucked under his arm. She doubted he knew of the treachery afoot. If Glenda wasn’t responsible for the secret note, perhaps the major was her ally. She shouted his name, but he seemed not to hear, and the slit was too narrow even for her small hand.
She’d have to wait until the ceremony before she could enlist his aid.
