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“I found this man attacking your sister, last night,” he said bluntly. “The situation is under control as you can see. His wrists are bound. He will not hurt her again. The question is, what shall we do with him now?”

He had told the truth.

Though he dared not look toward Esme to see what she made of it.

He expected some show of surprise from Jonah, but the young lord chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “I recognize you, I think?”

Crispin bowed his head. “Sir Crispin de Gough. I serve your father.”

Jonah clicked his fingers, a rare smile transforming his face. “That’s it.” He cut another piece of bread. “And how fares my father?”

A trace of discomposure showed on Crispin’s unshaven face. “Very well, milord.”

“You have seen him, recently?” Jonah’s gaze traveled over Crispin’s stained clothing, but he passed no further comment.

Adam’s pulse, which had started to pound when Jonah first claimed to recognize Crispin, began to steady. He risked a glance toward Esme, who had mirrored his stance with her arms crossed across the demure bodice of her blue gown. She felt his eyes upon him; he could tell by the way her body stiffened. But she did not meet his gaze.

“Not recently.” Crispin’s voice showed some strain.

“He has sent you on some campaign, I think?” Jonah smiled, encouragingly. “You have endured many nights of discomfort, is that not so?”

The knight smiled, relaxing a little. “Perchance, a little discomfort, aye. But I will endure much in the service of milord.”

Esme strode forward, placing her hands on the table and leaning angrily toward Crispin. “You lie. You rode away from the service of my father after the last Wolvesley ball. Whatever you have been doing these last days, ’tis not in my father’s name.” She gave her head a little shake. “I do not know why this surprises me. One more lie atop a dozen or more.”

Jonah pursed his lips and carefully placed his knife down beside his trencher. “And what is this about you attacking my sister?” His voice was soft, but his eyes were razor sharp.

“A misunderstanding,” Crispin countered quickly.

“Not so.” Esme tossed her hair. “He came at me in my chamber. If it were not for Adam’s intervention—” she stumbled to a halt. “Crispin all but started a fire.”

Crispin tutted. “I would have saved you the embarrassment of this, Esme.”

“She has naught to be embarrassed over.” Adam could stay quiet no longer.

Crispin continued as if he had not spoken. “But ’tis true that all will be known before long.” He shuffled his feet until he stood beside Esme. Adam fancied that he would have slung an arm about her shoulders, if he were able to. “Your sister has done me a great honor.”

“I have not,” Esme snapped.

Jonah held up a hand, a plea for peace. “Allow the man to speak.”

Esme’s face showed her shock. Adam too knew a prickling of fear. Would Jonah side with the knight, after all?

Crispin clearly thought so. He looked down at Esme with the gleam of victory in his eyes.

“She is already my wife, in every way that matters.” His voice was silky.

Esme darted away from him as if he had struck her. “’Tis not like that, Jonah.” She gripped her skirts and gazed at the floor as if seeking inspiration.

Adam hated to hear the distress in her tone, but he was helpless to assist her. Intervening now would be unseemly at best. He rubbed at his aching temples, hoping fervently that Jonah had just some of the integrity and intelligence he had credited him with.

Or was it to be a case of the earl’s son supporting the wealthy knight, even against the supplication of his own sister?

“Already your wife in every way that matters,” Jonah repeated, as if reciting some indecipherable rhyme. “Does that mean what I think it means, Esme?”

After a terrible pause, she nodded. Her head was low so he could not see what emotion shone in her eyes, but the air fairly shimmered with tension.

“She laid with me at Wolvesley,” Crispin put in. Perchance wanting it to be clear.