The High Sheriff of Huntingdon (19 page)

“When will
that
be,
Alistair?”

He
hesitated
for
only
a
moment.
“I
hardly think
it
any concern
of
yours,
cousin.
B
u
t
I
im
a
g
in
e
the sooner
I take
care of that little
i
ss
u
e
the
better.
You
aren’t,
by
any
cha
n
c
e,
enamored
of
t
h
e
woman? B
ec
a
u
s
e
I
would find
th
a
t extremely
distressing.
You’re a
useful
man
to ha
v
e
around.
You
accomplish things quite easily, a
n
d
you
d
o
n
’
t bother me w
i
t
h petty details.
I
would be
sorry
to
lo
s
e
you.”

“But
if it came
to a choice
between m
e
and your wife?” Gilles asked,
and
t
h
e
r
e
was
no
m
i
s
s
i
n
g the in
tensity in his usually smooth, light
voice.

Alistair
g
a
v
e
his
most
charming, ironic
smile.
“There
would
be no choice
whatsoever,
dear boy.
It’
s simple
enough
to
find
a
local
bu
ll
y
, even
one
as deceptively
c
h
armi
n
g
as
you
are.
A wife with
an
impeccable
blood
l
i
n
e
and Dunstan Woods is a great
deal
h
a
rd
e
r
to come by.
Besides,
I
t
h
i
nk
I
might have
developed
a taste
for
pale virgins.”

“
You
n
e
v
e
r
have
before.”

Anoth
e
r
man
m
i
gh
t
have missed the
fury burning
be
neath
Gilles’s
determinedly
l
i
gh
t voice.
Alistair never
missed
a
thing.
“But I’ve
b
e
c
o
me
jaded in
my old
a
g
e,
”
he
said.
He moved
away
from
the parapet.
“Th
e
r
e
’
s
a
full moon
tonight. A witch’s
moon,
my mother
used to call
it.”
And he
saw in
the corner of
his
eye
that
Gilles
hurriedly
crossed
himself.

“I have
q
ui
t
e an
evening
p
la
nn
e
d
for
you, Alistair.
T
h
er
e
’
s
a
young
woman
in
the kitchens,
q
u
it
e
untried,
but with
the
most
spectacular
set of
—
”

“I’m
afraid
I
h
a
v
e other plans tonight, dear cousin,” Alistair s
a
i
d
. “ Y
ou’ll have to
avail
yourself of the
kitchen
m
a
id this
t
i
m
e
.
Keep
her warm
for
me.”

“What
could you have
that is more pressing?”

Alistair gave
him
his
sweetest
smile,
the
smile that made strong
men
cower, the smile
that
he was purported
to
h
a
v
e
inherited from
his
father,
the
devil. “I thought
that
w
oul
d
be
obvious,
cousin,”
he
said gently.
“I
need
to beget
an
h
e
ir.”

Helva hadn’t been
best pleased with
Elspeth’s
escape
three
days
ago.
She’d
expressed
her
displeasure with
one or
two
extremely
hard
pinches,
a
general
air of hostility, and by refusing
to
talk to
Elspeth.

Elspeth could have accepted that with
equanimity.
She
longed
for
a
brief moment of peace,
of serenity.
But
Helva
never left
her,
not
e
v
en
for
a
mo
m
e
n
t
.
Not
when,
after
much pl
ea
ding and
arguing,
she’d managed to
se
cure
herself a shallow
bath of
lukewarm
water a
n
d
dried rose petals.
Not
when she
stripped
down to her
fine
linen undergarments
and
waited
pointedly
for Helva
to
absent
herself.
Not even
during
her
prayers,
which
were
allowed
to
take
far
too
little
of
the
day.