“False station,” Padraig muttered.
“The hold will be divided between your households to prevent unnecessary conflict,” Lucan continued pointedly.
Hargrave interrupted. “But he hasno household.”
“However, the resources shall be shared proportionately.” He looked to Hargrave. “I have been given leave to assign servants andappropriatequarters to Master Boyd fairly, and to thereafter divide the holdas I see fit.”
“Ah, administrator now,” Hargrave challenged. “You wear many caps, Lucan.”
“I’ve only come for the truth,Lord Hargrave.”
The way the knight said the words tickled at Padraig’s curiosity, but now was not the time to indulge in imaginative theories.
“He should stay in the village,” Hargrave insisted. “He is a stranger to this house, and possibly a danger to those in my care.”
“I claim full responsibility to the Crown for his actions,” Lucan answered back at once. “And, yes, I—and the troops that accompany me—shall enforce the terms. Fully,”he emphasized.
Hargrave held Padraig’s gaze for what seemed an eternity—his perfectly coiffed hair seeming to make Padraig’s scalp itch, his immaculate costume causing Padraig’s own rough garb to chafe and emit the odor of so many days’ travel. But Padraig never let his chin drop, never let his glance stray in any signof submission.
“I see that I have little choice but to defend that which is rightfully mine against foreign usurpers. Again,” Hargrave insisted bitterly. His tone had modulated, the high color in his cheeks fading, but the man’s eyes had narrowed the tiniest bit, as if desperate to view a thing that was just out of focus. “But as I am confident that the king will not only reward me finally with what I deserve but redress others accordingly, I will, of course, cooperate.” He broke gaze with Padraig to flick a nasty and meaningful glance at Montague. “The redress will be far-reaching, I do hope.”
“I have no fear of the truth,” Lucan said calmly, and there was so much meaning behind the simple declaration, before he added the deferential “my lord,” almost as an afterthought.
Hargrave’s noble countenance turned stony, but he did not bother to look at Montague again. Instead, he barked, “Beryl!” The hall was silent. “Beryl, where are you, girl?” He looked over his shoulder with anirritated jerk.
“I am here, my lord,” a lilting voice answered reluctantly.
“Well, comehere,” Hargrave insisted, his words so obviously strained that the command was gritty and forced.
The crowd parted, and the beautiful servant girl who had fallen at his feet moved near Hargrave’s side, her pretty face downcast, seeming to try to keep herself turned away from Padraig so that he could barely see her porcelain skin beyond the edge of her veil.
Already hisenemy, was she?
“My lord?” she queried softly, and Padraig could hear the accented lilt behind her words. Perhaps she wasn’t native to Darlyrede House either.
“Make your report to Lady Hargrave as she requested,” Hargrave ordered. “And then advise her that I would seek her council before she retires for the evening.”
Beryl fidgeted. “But, my lord, she is already—”
“Go,” Hargrave insisted.
The maid curtsied stiffly and began to slip into the crowd, but then Montague’s arm shot out, grabbing her arm and jerking her back around to face him. Padraig thought there was fear in her gray eyes as she stared upat the knight.
“What the devil, Montague?” Hargrave demanded.
Lucan Montague’s glare seemed to slowly sink beneath his high cheekbones and he abruptly released her with a shallow bow. “Forgive me. I only wished to have the girl convey my regards toLady Hargrave.”
“Very well.” Hargrave sighed and waved his hand. “See that youdo so, Beryl.”
Beryl disappeared into the crowd so quickly that Padraig could not tell the direction of her flight. She seemed to simply vanish before his eyes.
“The hour is late,” Lucan announced, and although his words were once more crisp and matter-of-fact, Padraig could sense a note of disquiet beneath the cool façade. “The king’s men have ridden far, and I would not detain you further from your evening, my lord. Tomorrow is soon enough for us to lay out the detailsof the thing.”
“Upon that point, I find I do agree with you,” Hargrave said. “I assume you will take up your usual quarters?”
“The barracks will be adequate, my lord,” Montague responded.
The older man looked upon Padraig as if he were a bit of dung dragged onto the marble floor of the grand entry. “My steward shall show you to a chamber—Boyd, is it?”
