Knight's Ransom. Suzanne Barclay

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СКАЧАТЬ stamped her foot for emphasis, two red splotches coloring her pale cheeks.

      “Prove it, then, and give me a chance to prove myself in turn. I vow I have no desire to rum your reputation, only teach you not to look down your nose at a man for lack of wealth.”

      “I…I do not know…”

      “Think on it. I will seek you out tomorrow for your answer.”

      Catherine nodded, turned and fled.

      Oh, this was too good to be true, Clarice thought. Imagine, sweet Lady Catherine was really a harlot. As she slunk off into the night, Clarice’s mind seethed with ways in which she might use this new knowledge. One thing was clear, once the information became public, no man would want Cat as a wife, which would leave the field clear for Clarice. What a lovely notion.

      

      Winded and perspiring from the last set of dances, Cat declined an invitation to join another set and wandered toward an open window. Three men trailed after her with offers of food and drink. She agreed in order to get rid of them. ‘Twas hell staying here, keeping up a carefree facade when she longed for privacy to try and sort out her problem. If not for the questions it would have caused, she’d not have returned to the hall after her meeting with Gervase. Blackmail. The nerve of the man.

      At least he had not followed her into the hall. Trying to keep up a pretext of gaiety under his intent gaze would have been impossible. What was she going to do? Though he’d not asked for much—only a bit of her time—the notion of bowing to blackmail went against everything she believed in.

      Feeling wretched, Cat scanned the room and spied Margery standing off by herself, eyes wide, tears trickling down her full cheeks. Had some man slighted her? Had one of the catty women said something to wound poor, defenseless Margery? Lifting her skirts, Cat stalked off to the rescue.

      “Margery.” Cat grasped both Margery’s icy hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. “Only tell me what has happened.”

      “Oh, Cat.” Margery cried harder. “‘Tis terrible. I…I cannot think of a way to tell you,” she stammered between sobs.

      “Hush, dearling.” Cat wrapped an arm around the girl’s heaving shoulders. “Come, let us find a quiet corner.”

      “Margery! Come here this instant.” Lady Ela snapped her fingers imperiously and motioned for her daughter to join her by the hearth where she stood with a group of staring women.

      “I…I have to go.” Margery darted away.

      Cat started after her, but Oscar blocked her path.

      “ ’Tis late and ye should be abed. I like not the mood of the crowd,” he added in a low voice.

      Indeed, the dancing had ceased and the nobles hung about in small groups. They chattered like a flock of crows, eyes darting about the hall, faces animated with what looked like malicious glee. Had Gervase told them about Henry? Nay. It profited him not to betray her before he had her answer. Still Cat suddenly felt alone and vulnerable. “See what you can find out.”

      “Likely everyone has had too much to drink. Come, milady, we’ll escort you to your room.” With Oscar in front and the brothers following, they swept from the hall and up the stairs to her chamber. Cat was deposited inside and her maid given strict orders to see her mistress stayed within.

      “See here. I will not be ordered about.” Cat jerked the door open and ran into the solid wall of Garret’s back.

      Nor would he let her leave. “What of Margery and the other ladies? Where will they sleep if you bar the way?”

      “I’ve orders to let them pass when they come up,” Garret said. “But Gamel and I are to remain here the night, and you’re not to leave till Oscar or Sir Philippe says ‘tis all right.”

      Cat sighed and closed the door.

      “Whatever’s going on, milady?” The maid’s narrow face was pinched with concern, her hands knotted in her apron.

      “I don’t know, Etta. ‘Tis likely naught, but I’ll find out as soon as Margery and the others retire.” Stiff with dread and frustration, Cat moved through the undressing process by rote, absently lifting her arms as first the sideless velvet surcoat, then the silken undertunic were removed.

      “You’ll feel better when this is off.” Etta released Cat’s hair from the braids coiled over her ears.

      Cat didn’t feel better. Clad at last in her night shift, she sat on the stool before the fire while Etta tended her hair, but the rhythmic stroking of the ivory comb failed to soothe her frazzled nerves. Nor did any of the ladies appear who shared her room. The watch called midnight, the castle settled down to sleep, except for the occasional muted sounds of a few male voices drifting up from the hall.

      Frightened, Cat crept to the door and cracked it open on the darkened corridor. “Garret?” she whispered.

      “Aye. We’re here.”

      “What news from below?”

      A long pause, then, “I dunno. Oscar says he’ll come by and tell ye in the morning,” Gamel replied.

      “Then there is something. Does…does it involve me?”

      “Oscar didn’t tell us,” Gamel replied. “Only said ye were to stay here till he’d gotten to the bottom of things.”

      Things like her sordid past?

      That question had Cat tossing and turning all night. She rose early, splashed cool water on her face, hastily braided her hair in a single plait and dressed in a simple woolen gown. Leaving Etta asleep on her pallet by the door, Cat eased the oaken portal open.

      Gamel’s face materialized in the still gloomy hallway. “You’re supposed to wait within.”

      “I’m starving. What harm can there be in going down to the hall for a bit of food?” And information. “ ’Twill likely be deserted, for the men have all gone to the tiltyard to practice for tomorrow’s tourney,” she added, having heard them clatter out of the courtyard when it was still dark.

      “Etta could bring something up,” Gamel said.

      Cat shook her head. “I need to stretch my legs. If I have to stay cooped up here another moment, I’ll go mad.”

      Gamel and Garret exchanged frowns, then Gamel sighed. “I’ll take ye down to break yer fast whilst Garret gets Oscar.”

      Cat jumped at the opportunity, though eating ranked below finding Margery. During the long, sleepless night she’d decided Lady Ela must have become angry because the men pursued Cat and ignored her daughter. Doubtless the lady had told Margery to stay away from Cat so as to not suffer by comparison. ‘Twould be easily set to rights. Cat would promise to dance no more dances, talk to no more men. ‘Twas a small price to pay, for Margery’s friendship was more important than the attentions of any man.

      Especially Gervase St. Juste. Cat’s hands clenched into fists and her steps slowed on the narrow stairway. Any man who would stoop to blackmail deserved to be denounced to the world. Sweet Mary, he was worse than Henry Norville, who СКАЧАТЬ