The Loyal Heart (19 page)

“But where are you planning to live while these grand plans are coming together?”

“We’ll live wherever we have to,” Ethan told her. “We can camp in the woods, come here.”

“And how long is that supposed to last?” She glanced around the table to see if any of them other than Ethan had opinions. Tom was eager but Toby wore the long-suffering expression of a man following his master.

“It will last until I get my land back.” Ethan gripped the edge of the table.

“And how long will that be?”

“As soon as we can mount a resistance and throw Buxton out of office.”

She raised an eyebrow. “When?”

Ethan let out an exasperated breath. “At the Council of Nobles.” He leaned towards her in his seat. “What better time than to show our opposition than by voting against him in the Council of Nobles.”

Aubrey laughed. “You must be joking. The Council of Nobles has become nothing more than a glorified carnival. Everybody votes with Buxton on every issue. You would know that if you’d been here these last few years.”

“If I’d been here then not everybody would have voted with Buxton.”

“Exactly.” The stalemate across the table lasted too long. “How do you know they’ll even let you in?”

“I have friends who will stand for me.”

She sat back in her chair and sighed. “Fine. Bring your gang of nobles to Buxton’s council and see what he does when you vote against him on anything.”

“I will.” He jerked a stubborn nod at her.

“Oh, but wait,” she continued, mock surprise twisting her face. “Aren’t the castle guards under order to arrest you on sight?”

He pressed his lips shut in a tight line and glared at her. “There are ways to get around that.”

“Sure.” She slipped out of her chair and stood. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me.” She nodded to Toby and Tom and started for the door.

“Aubrey, wait.” Ethan caught up to her outside of the inn in the late morning sunlight. She pivoted to face him. He slowed as he reached her and scratched the back of his head, shuffling his feet. “Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t write to you.”

“Are you?” She folded her arms.

“Yes! It was thoughtless of me. It won’t happen again.”

She quirked an eyebrow. He looked like a disobedient child pouting in the morning sun. “And are you going to let me marry Crispin?”

“No!” He reached out to take her arms. Not a single butterfly twittered in her stomach at his touch. “I’ll take you away, far out of his reach. We’ll leave tomorrow if we have to.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean you’ll wait until Crispin frees Madeline and Sister Bernadette first, right?”

He looked at her like she was a dolt. “Aubrey, you don’t really believe that he means to keep that promise.”

She stiffened and ground her teeth. “I don’t abandon my friends.”

Ethan sighed. “See if you can get him to release them to attend the wedding. That should buy me some time. When is this wedding anyhow?”

His annoyance with her was maddening. “He hasn’t set a date yet.”

“Well maybe we can come up with another plan before then.” He stared at her as if expecting her to fall all over him with gratitude. When she bristled instead he hissed, “Why did you have to go and get engaged to him in the first place?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You ran off to Matlock!”

“Aubrey, I-”

She held up her hand and glared at him. Then she spun and walked past him to the road and around the corner. She paused just out of sight of the inn, waiting for him to follow. He didn’t. Her frown darkened. She crept to the corner, pressing herself against the edge of the building to peek into the courtyard. Ethan was nowhere in sight. Her heart sank.

She turned away from the inn and trudged towards the main roads. A very large part of her didn’t know why she bothered. She wondered if he really would rescue her from marrying Crispin or if she even wanted him to. The thought stopped her in her tracks. No, she had not just had that thought. More frustrated than ever she walked on.

Even though he had never really taken with tanning, Jack considered himself an artisan at his trade. At the moment his trade was spying. The summer was turning into a profitable one. Crispin made good on his promise of paying him a shilling a week for information about Ethan. So far he’d been able to squirrel quite a stash by telling him where Ethan was staying, when he went out of the city, and which of the smug nobles he had talked to.

What surprised Jack was that Crispin did nothing about it. Sure, Ethan hadn’t been able to stick his head up in polite society, but it didn’t take Jack long to work out that there was more to keeping an eye on Ethan than nabbing him. In fact, he had the feeling he was helping to keep Ethan buried.

It was Aubrey that Crispin was really bothered about. And as far as Jack was concerned spilling Ethan’s business to a man who was ragingly in love with Aubrey was no skin off his back. Why Aubrey didn’t ditch Ethan for Crispin was beyond him.

A sticky summer night was falling by the time he reached the castle gate for his planned rendezvous with Crispin.

“What’s the matter with you?” He wrinkled his nose at the dark man and his dark mood.

“None of your business,” Crispin grumbled.

“Aubrey still bein’ a stick in the mud?” he pried anyhow, earning a glower that would have loosened the bowels of a lesser man. He ignored it. Aubrey was why he’d come in the first place. “Set a date for your wedding yet?”

“I don’t see how that’s any business of-”

“ʻCause Ethan is plannin’ on crashin’ it.” Crispin’s eyes darkened and Jack would have taken a step back if he didn’t know he was the one with all the information. “Yeah. He’s plannin’ on waitin’ ‘til the nuns are released then comin’ along and swiping Aubrey right out from under you.”

“Does Aubrey know about this?” The catch in the powerful man’s voice struck an note of pity in Jack’s soul.

He shrugged, hoping it looked casual. “Don’t think so,” he lied. There was no use in telling the truth and landing Aubrey in hot water. “So you got plenty of time to work ‘round it, right?” Crispin’s distracted nod was not the reaction Jack had hoped for. He crossed his arms and rested his weight on one hip, waiting for the man to say or do something. “Right?”

Crispin looked up, almost surprised to see Jack in front of him. “What’s it to you?”

If it had been anyone else giving him the brush-off he might have considered being hurt. “Oy, information like this doesn’t fall off trees, mate.”

“What do you want?”

A slow grin spread across Jack’s face. That was more like it. “Well, there’s gonna be an attempt to rescue the lovely MP and Sister Bernadette, see?”

Crispin drew in a breath that pulled him to his full height. He crossed his arms. “When.”

“Thursday night.” Crispin said nothing but his sharp eyes urged Jack on. He spread his hands. “I want it to succeed.”

“I can’t. If Buxton-”

“Oy!” Jack’s interruption made Crispin bristle. “Look, mate, I’m givin’ you your woman. The least you could do is bloody return the favor.”

Color splashed to Crispin’s face and he glanced away. Jack scratched his goatee. One of these days Crispin would find out he was all talk and then he’d have hell to pay. But not to day. “Thursday,” he nodded. “It will be done.”

Jack grinned and chucked Crispin on the arm. “Thanks, mate. You’re a true friend.” The spark that shot to Crispin’s eyes made him pull back and clear his throat. “Now I gotta get back before they wonder what I’m up to. Not that they don’t already.” He turned and jogged towards the gate before Crispin could renege on his promise.

Crispin stared at Jack’s retreating back. Their entire conversation had left him standing on quicksand. From the moment Aubrey had arrived at Derby Castle with Windale by her side he had suspected something between them. The pain of the idea that she might have offered to marry him because she knew she could get out it for a second time was too much. He turned and marched towards the castle.

He had no reason to doubt Jack. The echo of the word ‘friend’ sat heavily in his mind. He didn’t have friends. But he trusted Jack. A clever peasant. He shook his head. It was Windale that he didn’t trust. Buxton already had the guards watching for him after rumors that he would crash the Council of Nobles had begun to circulate.

As he reached the base of the long stone stairs leading up to the front door Crispin froze. The Council. The wedding. Windale may have just handed him everything he wanted.

With a fierce sense of purpose he raced up the stairs and into the castle. It was a huge gamble, but if he won then the victory would be worth every ounce of risk.

He found Buxton sitting in the Great Hall with is feet up on a table, popping grapes in his mouth while various bands of musicians played for him.

“My lord, I must speak with you.” Crispin went straight to the table and leaned on it to prove the point of urgency. His plan was becoming clearer in his mind with each moment that passed.

“Well speak then, Crispy,” Buxton said with his mouth full, not looking at him.

“My lord, I would like to marry Lady Aubrey on Saturday.”

Buxton sniffed. “Well you can’t. That’s the day of the Council.”

“Exactly, my lord. Windale is planning on attending the Council with the intent of questioning your authority.”

Buxton paused in the action of tossing a grape into his mouth. The grape bounced to the floor. “Ssh! Shut up!” The musicians stopped. Buxton’s back snapped straight and he leaned across the table, darting suspicious glances to the curious onlookers.

“He also plans to interrupt my wedding to Lady Aubrey, to rescue her once her friends are released so that-”

Buxton laughed. “I knew it!” He slammed his palm on the table, squashing a grape. Crispin lowered his head in frustration. “I knew that she would wriggle out of your grasp a second time!”

“This is Windale’s plan, not Aubrey’s,” Crispin insisted.

“Oh, sure, right.” Buxton rolled his eyes. “Women are such snakes. You should stick with me, Cr-”

“If the wedding is at the same time as the Council then Windale will be forced to choose between causing a scene here-”

“Or rescuing Lady Aubrey from a fate worse than death.” Buxton caught onto the plan with a flash of hatred in his beady eyes. “Oh good! Very, very good. Clever, Crispy, very clever.” He clapped his hands together and laughed again. “So which do you think he’ll choose, hmm? His land or his lady?”

“I don’t know, my lord.” He lowered his eyes. His whole plan hinged on believing that his enemy hated him more than he loved Aubrey. If it were him he would have risked everything to stop the wedding, land be damned.

Buxton narrowed his eyes. “So if he picks the girl, then you have made a brilliant, noble sacrifice on my behalf. And if he picks the Council, then you get the girl. I’m impressed, Crispy! That’s a proper trap if ever there was one.”

Crispin’s eyes flashed up to meet Buxton’s. “Then you agree to it?”

The room hushed as every nerve in Crispin’s body screamed. Buxton raked him with an acid glare. The heat in his eyes as they devoured his form would have made his skin crawl if his heart hadn’t been so full of Aubrey. A grin twitched the corners of Buxton’s mouth and he shrugged. “Why not. Either way I win.”

Crispin broke into a genuine smile before he could stop himself. “Thank you, my lord.” He meant it as he hadn’t meant those words for years. “I must go and tell Aubrey.”

“Yes, of course,” Buxton called after him as he turned to leave. “Give her plenty of time to figure out a back-up plan.”

The words were like an arrow in his back. Again he had to fight his suspicion that she was a part of this scheme. He had to believe that at least a small part of her would be content to marry him. He loved her a thousand times more than any man ever could. That certain knowledge had to keep him going.

Aubrey pressed herself against the castle wall as the storm crashed around her, illuminating the square in front of the castle gate for a few seconds. It grated on her nerves that she had to sneak out in the dead of night to meet with Ethan and the others, just as it had set her teeth on edge that all Ethan wanted to talk about was his grand design for disrupting the Council of Nobles. Rescuing her friends, rescuing her from marrying Crispin, were afterthoughts.

She dashed across the courtyard and into the castle through the cloister with a bitter smirk. Here she was risking detection as the Bandit by dressing in her chausses and cloak to sneak through the night when what she should really be wearing was her most low-cut kirtle. Maybe that would snag Ethan’s focus.

The castle had long since gone to bed and she was able to rush through the halls without being noticed. She made it to her room in one piece, shut the door, and pulled the wet cloak from her shoulders, dropping it in the middle of the floor. She unbuckled the sword from her belt, tossing it on the bed. Finally she stripped off her wet Bandit clothes and changed into her nightgown, scowling the whole time.