Lucan lifted his cup along with the others as the hall answered the toast, but he only pretended at drinking and set the wine back on the table untouched, the memory of the bastard who’d shot him still clear in his mind.
His riches are made from the saleof slaves ...
“And now,” Hargrave continued, “let us proceed with happier news. I am pleased to announce that the man who had come to Darlyrede House to challenge my right to it has departed without reservation.”
A collective gasp raced through the hall, and Lucan turned his head quickly to look up at the man standing at the side of his chair.
“Yes, I was quite surprised too,” Hargrave conceded. “But after some thought it only made sense; Padraig Boyd was perhaps the source of much treachery within the hold these past months, and it is my thought that—even if the Scotsman wasn’t directly involved, of which I am not entirely convinced—the death of Lord Paget at least pricked at his conscience. He knew he would be held accountable before the king, and far from being granted our beloved Darlyrede, Padraig Boyd would have wound up losing his life for the crimes he’d orchestrated and the accusations he’d prepared against me. And so”—here Hargrave gave a slight shrug and gestured with his chalice.
“It was the wisest thing for him to do, really. And although he has put his signature to a document releasing all claims to his supposed father’s title, I think it likely that he will be pursued by the Crown’s soldiers in his flight, as he’s absconded from Darlyrede with a pair of servants. Whether the women went willingly or nay, I cannot sayat this point.”
Lucan felt a cold chill creep along his spine at these words, and he was once again very aware of Iris’s absencefrom the hall.
Hargrave turned to Lucan then, his face bright with optimism. “I am certain it shall be none other than Sir Lucan who pursues him, as Boyd has left with the Scottish maid Searrach and our own Beryl.” Hargrave paused with a concerned frown on his face. “You know, I’m sure, how treasured the girl was to Lady Hargrave. She’s simply inconsolable, aren’tyou, my dear?”
Caris Hargrave stared unresponsively over the headsof the guests.
Vaughn Hargrave continued as if nothing at all were amiss. “But if anyone can track him down, I’m quite certain it shall be one of Northumberland’s own.”
Hargrave’s smile never wavered as he regarded Lucan with something akin to pride, and though perhaps he was only imagining it, Lucan thought he could see a fury behind that noble façade, made all the more dangerous by its indiscernibility.
Lucan was well aware how Padraig felt about his sister, and he also knew that Iris had been shocked at his own admission this afternoon. Could the pair of them have reconciled and left together? Without so much as aword to Lucan?
If so, why would they agree to take Searrach with them?
And where was Iris’s packet of damning information?
Lucan caught sight of Rolf then, standing against the wall behind the lord’s table, his expression one of unabashed surprise. Rolf then looked to Lucan, the alarm onhis face clear.
There was more to this tale than Hargrave was revealing, and Lucan had the urge to get up from the table and leave the hall in that moment. But he remained where he was as Hargrave was now giving the floor over to him with a gracious wave of his palm.
“Forgive me if I do not rise,” Lucan addressed the hall and gestured toward his injured foot, which set a ripple of good-natured, sympathetic chuckles through the guests. “Of course I will do whatever duty calls me to, to assist the Crown in its continuedinvestigation.”
“Such loyalty,” Hargrave said, a hushed admiration in his tone, but there it was again, Lucan was sure—the danger. “Allow me to say on behalf of all, we have the utmost faith in your abilities.” He placed one palm over his heart and again raised his chalice.“To Sir Lucan!”
The crowd answered back, and Lucan acknowledged their honor with a nod of his head, although inside his gutswere twisting.
The hall doors burst inward then, and the sounds of angry shouts bounced off the stone walls as a flood of leather-clad invaders swarmedinto the room.
“Sit down! Sit down!” they shouted as some of the men rose.
A scream rang out, and Lucan saw a guest collapse to the bench, an arrow pinning the hem of his tunic to the seat.
“I said, sit down!” the red-bearded man shouted again with finality. Lucan recognized him: Gorman.
Around the perimeter of the room, the few Darlyrede men-at-arms lining the walls swiveled their weapons, as if unsure whom to make their target.
Incompetent, Lucan thought with bitterness. While the kings’-trained men linger, unaware, banned to their courtyard barracks.
“Don’t do it, mates,” Gorman warned the men ringing the room. “If you do, the deaths of at least a score of these good people are on your heads. Drop your weapons and none of themwill be hurt.”
The men-at-arms hesitated.
“Do what he says,” Lucan commanded.
“No,do notdo what he says,” Hargrave demanded, no trace of fear in his voice. “What in the bloody hell is the meaning of this?How dare you!”
Two of the brigands hung back to either side of the hall doorway as the last masked member of the band entered the room, his arrow knocked, his boots clicking ominously on the stones as he walked down the center aisle toward the lord’s dais. The bandits closed the door behind him and reached at once for the long beam to bar the entrance from the inside, as if they’d been inside the hall a hundred times and knew the exact protocol to secure the room. Lucan glanced to either side of the wide hall and saw the single-passage portals already guarded by the forest criminals; no one was getting in or out of the room in the immediate future.
