Hope sprang forth and gave heat to her blood. “Help me by helping Lord Rothbury,” she implored.
He smiled knowingly at her, “You love him.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded. “For a long time. Tell me, what can we do to find and help him?”
He looked so uncertain for a moment that it shook her to her bones. “My lord, I—”
“No.” He held up his hand and sat up. “Do not try to convince me of what this means to you, or what Rothbury means to you. I am not blind. I will have no begging.”
She smiled at him, certain that he couldn’t see her in the dim light. His heart wasn’t so black after all. He had spoken to her on their way to Rothbury. He hadn’t cared if she had no title. And later, speaking with his grandmother, Julianna had discovered that the viscount’s compassion for the less fortunate had changed many minds in Bamburgh and, for the most part, servants were treated better.
“What is this cause that would make a man like you follow a man like Phillip DeAvoy?”
He grinned at her compliment and his green eyes danced. Another moment passed and he grew serious. “The Earl of Lancaster is a traitor to his king. He makes dealings with the king’s enemy. That is treason.”
She nodded. Aye, he spoke the truth. “I suspect I will be found guilty of it as well as murder.”
“No,” he corrected with a clever smile. “You cannot be guilty of murder against a man who is alive. What had been done to him that made you believe he was dead and you allowed him to be buried? He warned me not to touch you.”
She couldn’t tell him about the abbess. Not after the abbess had saved so many girls from the hands of their violent husbands or fathers.
“He…consumed something that caused an unwanted reaction in him.”
“He was poisoned.”
Julianna stared at him over the lantern flame. What would he do with such knowledge? What would he believe?
“I had fled from him,” she told him in a low voice. “He followed me and…he was very angry.” She didn’t continue for a few moments. She didn’t have to. “I prepared his supper and—”
She was thankful when he raised his hand and motioned for her to stop. She wouldn’t have told him about the abbess. Now, she didn’t have to tell him anything more.
“So,” he said, picking up their prior conversation, “there is no proof of you trying to kill him.” His smiled widened into a grin again. “And just because you cared for a traitor’s child, does not make you a traitor as well.”
“Nicholas is no traitor,” she corrected softly. “He is a Scot, my lord. His king is Robert. How can he be a traitor to a man to whom he never swore fealty?”
The viscount tilted his head to look at her from a different angle. “You speak the words of William Wallace. I must give you the same reply that knight received. If Rothbury is not for King Edward in this War of Independence, then he is against him. Treason.”
Nicholas would be found guilty. Even if he lived to see Edward, he would die shortly thereafter for following Robert Bruce. Her belly turned and twisted. She had to help him!
“Lord Rothbury was my father’s servant.” The words spilled from her mouth. They felt good rolling off her tongue. She would speak of Nicholas every day, no matter what it cost her. “He was taken from his family at the age of two and was put to work in the kitchen on his first night. His life was difficult, and yet, he managed to bring life and laughter to me every day.”
Bamburgh was quiet for a moment. He looked pained and then pensive before he spoke. “Your father allowed you to spend every day with a servant?”
She shook her head. “No.” She smiled and told him about Berengaria. He listened to her silly stories about she and William falling into a nest of hornets and having to jump in the river to escape them, and how she fell from a tree when she was seven and broke William’s arm when she fell on him.
When she was done, Bamburgh smiled at her. “That is all quite something. He is, indeed, an intriguing man, your William/Nicholas. His is a story of hope for a poor man.”
She nodded and studied him in the dim light. “Some men believe hope for the poor man is dangerous. It could cause an uprising.”
His smiled gleamed over the fire and his gaze was colored with mischief. “Let us hope you are right, Miss Feathers.”
He rose and, with a quiet voice, he bid her goodnight and left the tent.
Julianna watched the flap where he’d disappeared. Could she trust him? Why would the viscount risk his neck and help her? Was he deceiving her about everything…including Nicholas? He wasn’t just going against Phillip by not bringing her back—he was also defying King Edward.
She gathered all the cushions and fell asleep on them, dreaming of Nicholas searching for him and not finding him.
Nicholas cracked openhis eyes and looked up at the man who was trying to shove a spoon into his mouth.
