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“Lord, I’ve never seen such a thing before,” Ned said like a man observing an exotic animal. “Is that really her?”
Johnnie was awestruck. “Yes, that’s her. She always was—”
“Better speak to her husband before she spots you,” Ned said, completely indifferent to the woman’s compelling presence. “She doesn’t look like a woman for honorable business.”
“Again!” Johnnie made a muffled complaint. “Keep your opinions to yourself!”
“Oh aye,” Ned said, nearly laughing. “I’m mum.”
“Please leave me to do the talking,” Johnnie said nervously as they went down the stairs from the gallery and looked through the open double doors to the great hall. He hesitated at one of the footmen beside the open double doors. “Can you direct me to Sir James Avery?” he asked.
“That one,” the man said, nodding him inwards.
Sir James, in a dark silk jacket with a gloriously embroidered waistcoat, silk breeches, and diamond buckles on his shining shoes, was in conversation with two men, but he turned as Ned and Johnnie approached. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said courteously. He glanced over the two of them. “Do I know you? May I serve you?” His dark gaze narrowed and returned to Ned. “Have we met?”
“Sir, I have the honor—” Johnnie began as agreed, when his uncle interrupted him.
“Ned Ferryman,” he said bluntly. “We’ve met. You’ll remember.”
A deep flush rose in James Avery’s face. “This way,” he said shortly and drew them both into an antechamber. “Is it Alinor?” he demanded as the red velvet curtain fell closed behind them. “I just left her! Does she want me back?”
Johnnie looked from one man to another, marveling at the stubborn calm of his uncle and the trembling hands of the greater man. “We haven’t come about her, sir.”
“Ah, you lent her your carriage and felt she was obliged?” Ned asked cuttingly.
Johnnie made a little exclamation of protest. “No offense…”
Sir James nodded, paler than ever. “I asked her if I might call. But what do you want from me, Mr. Ferryman?”
“We want a pardon,” Ned told him bluntly.
“Perhaps I should explain…” Johnnie began, but neither man even looked at him.
“The rebellion?” James guessed. “You were mixed up in that? Will you never learn?”
Ned smiled at him, quite unrepentant. “Happen I won’t. We can’t all turn our collar to the winning side.”
“Excuse him!” Johnnie blurted. “Forgive us!”
Neither man heard him.
“Anyway, you’re far off. The pardon’s not for me.”
“If it’s for a man witnessed in arms at Westonzoyland, I can’t help you,” James told him. “The king is… the king is…”
“Vindictive,” Ned finished the sentence as Johnnie made a little gasp of disagreement and grabbed his uncle’s arm to silence him.
Sir James scowled. “He’s not granting pardons for exaggerated guilt,” he said shortly.
“But heisgranting pardons? And some of the lords and ladies here have been given prisoners, and they’re selling them back to the prisoner’s families and friends who can raise money?”
Sir James nodded. “Very few.”
“The prisoner that we’re asking a pardon for is owned by Her Majesty.”
Sir James turned to a writing table in the corner of the room and made a note of what Ned was saying. “Was he seen in arms?”
“No. He never took up arms.”
