“I know,” Liam nodded faintly. “In truth, I have not seen him, either. He has made himself scarce as of late. But I am sure he feels some guilt for what has happened. He gave his mother the approval for this venture, I am told. You and St. Héver returned, but Tate and Pembury are now trapped. Surely he is beside himself.”
Toby pursed her lips in sorrow. “He need not feel that way. It was not his fault.”
“I know. But he is young. He has not yet learned to deal with the weight of responsibility.”
“Are there any plans for my husband’s rescue?”
“Not yet. We must see what this day brings and go from there.”
“You are not going to go after him right away?”
“I do not believe that would be prudent. But have no doubt that we will act when the time is right.”
Toby let the conversation die, her gaze returning to Kenneth once more. He was looking at her, trying to gauge her reaction to all of this. Liam’s attention lingered on the two of them before he politely excused himself, exiting the tent into the day that was growing lighter by the moment. He had much to do and was pleased at Lady de Lara’s brave attitude. It made his life easier.
But Toby wasn’t being brave at all; she was reflecting on the conversation and growing increasingly distressed.We must see what this day brings and go from there.She didn’t like the inaction or the waiting. Her husband was in trouble and just as he sought to save her, she knew that she must seek to save him also. She had to; she simply couldn’t sit around and wait for others to act. When the situation had been reversed and she had been held captive, Tate’s plan had been to involve Isabella. As Toby sat and pondered, she suspected that might be her best option also.
And why not? Toby remembered how Mortimer fawned over Isabella the moment she arrived at Wigmore. She remembered the sickening flattery, watching as the queen soaked it up. The woman wallowed in the adoration. She wondered what the queen would say if she knew that her lover had indecently propositioned another woman. And what if that woman were to expose Mortimer’s lustful intentions? Toby wondered… an exchange…me for Tate. But she would make sure that Isabella knew the details of the exchange; chances were that both she and Tate would see freedom were Isabella sufficiently jealous andangered at Mortimer. God help her, she had to try. If these men weren’t going to act, then she had to.
Abruptly, she stood up. Kenneth was dozing off, startled when she moved suddenly.
“What is wrong?” he asked sleepily. “Where do you go?”
“Nowhere,” she lied. “Go back to sleep. I am simply going to stand by the door. I… I just want to observe the morning.”
Kenneth was weakened and exhausted and took her for her word. He could never have imagined what she really had in mind; if he had, he would have latched on to her leg and never let go. But he drifted off to sleep again, unaware that Lady de Lara was about to take her life into her hands again. In hindsight, he should have guessed it knowing her as he did.
Toby stood by the tent flap, watching Kenneth and waiting for him to drift off again. She wanted to make sure he was asleep before planning her next move. She was about to steal a horse again and try to leave the camp unseen, both of which would be tricky. But she was determined.
Tate and Kenneth had once called her brave; she had never thought on herself as being brave until this very moment. With what she had in mind, she was about to find out just how brave she truly was.
*
Thank God forIsabella.
That was the thought foremost on Tate’s mind as he sat in the great hall of Wigmore, watching Isabella and Mortimer interact. It had been Isabella who had saved him from a quick death in the bailey and Isabella who insisted he be given the respect of the royal family. When Toby and Kenneth had fled the gates, no one had touched him. There had been enough noise and saber rattling to believe he had been taken apart limb by limb, but noone actually came close enough to do it. Several angry soldiers had brought him into the great hall and planted him in a chair while a good deal of arguing went on around him. That had been several hours ago.
So he sat in the great hall all night and well into the morning. He was also thankful that Stephen and Wallace had not yet been discovered. They maintained their disguises as guards of the queen’s household although Stephen had managed to position himself very close to Tate. The two of them were able to speak briefly. So far, none of the other guards had given Stephen or Wallace away. Tate did not expect them to; they were the king’s troops and loyal to the monarchy. It was Tate, in fact, who commanded them, so in a sense he had his own contingent of troops in the room. But they were insignificant compared to Mortimer’s hundreds.
De Roche had been brought back into the keep, moaning and groaning from the injuries that Toby had inflicted on him. As Tate had learned, it was their epic battle that had roused attention in the keep, leading to his capture. The physic had been killed trying to warn them. Even though de Roche was in another room, they could still hear him in the great hall, bellowing his agony. The man was paralyzed and doomed. Every time de Roche screamed, Tate was reminded just how brave Toby was. He was incredibly proud of her. He was also incredibly grateful that she had escaped.
But there was another lady on his mind at the moment; Isabella had not let him out of her sight since his capture. She had remained in the great hall all night, arguing with Roger, and her stress showed. At first, the argument had been about Tate. Hours later, it wasn’t even about him any longer; they were arguing over a lordship in Yorkshire. The entire night and into the morning had been a mass argument about almost everything other than Tate. Oddly, Edward’s name had never even come up.Tate wasn’t even concerned for his own life any longer; it was clear that he was not to be killed. Now, he was just bored.
It was close to the nooning meal when the keep began to stir once again; Isabella and Roger were still in the hall, now at separate ends of the room in their mutual exhaustion. The Earl of Suffolk had joined them at some point and stood with Roger in the corner, quietly conversing. Tate wondered why the man had two black eyes and a swollen nose. It never occurred to him that the injuries had anything to do with Toby, but had he known, he surely would have laughed about it.
As he pondered the stark tedium his life had become over the past few hours, servants began dashing into the hall, scattering like chickens in the wake of several soldiers entering from the bailey. There was much activity that had Tate curious. Whispers seemed to be floating about the hall but he could not discern what they were about. It was apparent that something big was happening, big enough that it had everyone’s attention, and he was soon to find out what it was. His curiosity fled the moment he saw a familiar figure emerge into the stale warmth of the great hall.
Toby strolled into the room as if nothing was amiss. She walked in as easily as if she would have walked into her own home. Soldiers skirted her and servants fled from her; in their distant corners, Isabella and Mortimer suddenly emerged from their exhaustion. All eyes were on the lovely lady as she lit up the room like a thousand candles. They were so focused on her beautiful golden-brown head that no one thought to look at Tate. It was their undoing.
At this point unguarded, Tate shot to his feet, vaulted over the table, and made it to his wife before several soldiers tackled him. He grabbed Toby, the soldiers grabbed him, Stephen and Wallace grabbed the soldiers, and everyone went down in a pile.
Screaming erupted from various women in the hall, including Isabella, as chaos ensued. Suddenly, the queen was scampering to the struggling mound of men. Somewhere at the bottom was a small woman who was surely, by this time, crushed.
“Se lever!”Isabella hollered, smacking the soldiers on the top of the heap. “Get up and release them!”
There were at least a dozen soldiers she had to weed through, slapping and yanking at them. Roger was on the opposite side of the pile, his dark eyes wide with surprise. As Isabella commanded the men to release Tate, Roger was far more interested in Toby’s arrival. He was strangely thrilled by it. But he suspected, as he watched the uproar, that her reappearance could not be a good thing. In fact, he had a deeply unsettling feeling about it. But he waited, apprehensively, to see what would transpire.
It wasn’t long in coming. As the soldiers removed themselves from the mound, including Stephen and Wallace, Tate finally appeared at the bottom with his arms around his wife. She hadn’t been hurt in the crush, thanks to Tate’s strength, but she was furious at having been shoved to the ground. Tate stood up and pulled her to her feet, his arms around her protectively.
