CHAPTER 38
Patrick Blackadder watched his father drink his ale and waited.
“I’ve sent a message to D’Orsey,” his father said. “He fought the Humes on Albany’s behalf before, and he owes us his position as warden.”
His father had conveniently forgotten that he had betrayed the Hume lairds, expecting a grateful regent to appoint him as warden. Patrick did not bother reminding him. It did not matter now.
“Once D’Orsey learns that Wedderburn is supporting Cochburn’s siege of Langton Castle, he’ll have to act.” His father paused to cough and thump his chest. “He’ll break the siege and bring the perpetrators to justice. And we’ll be rid of Wedderburn for good.”
His father sputtered and coughed again, then dropped his cup. Patrick watched it roll across the floor.
“Help me!” his father wheezed, clutching at his throat.
“There’s nothing that can be done,” Patrick said. “You’re dying.”
Curious as to how long it would take, Patrick leaned back and sipped his wine. The old man fell to the floor and rolled on his back, making ugly sounds through his closing throat.
As usual, his father sought help from the wrong quarter and grasped Patrick’s ankle. Good God, the old dog was strong. Patrick had to pry his fingers loose.
“Father,” Patrick said, leaning over him, “you’ve made your last miscalculation.”
His father’s attempt to wed Lady Alison himself had been the last straw.
A flash of confusion clouded his father’s eyes, then his body convulsed and his eyes turned into blank, bulging orbs.
Patrick had not even finished his wine yet. Hell, that took no time at all.
***
Alison awoke to an unearthly keening and reached for David, but he was gone.
Fearing someone in the household had died, she dressed quickly and opened the door. The wretched sound was coming from upstairs. She followed it to the Tower Room, where she discovered that Flora was the source of the wailing.
The nursemaid sat on a stool weeping, while Old Garrett stood beside her, patting her back and looking distraught.
“What’s wrong?” Alison sank to one knee and took Flora’s hand.
“I can’t do without my Garrett,” Flora said with tears running down her face.
Alison was too stunned by the revelation that the two elderly servants had formed a romantic attachment to speak.
“The laird ordered all the Blackadder servants to leave the castle,” Garrett said. “Says he’ll flail us if we’re not gone in an hour.”
Alison closed her eyes. This was her fault.
“I’ll speak to the laird, but come with me first,” she told Garrett. “I have something I want to give ye in case I can’t change his mind.”
Alison looked away while Garrett murmured something to Flora and kissed her cheek, then she led him back to her bedchamber, where she rummaged through her trunk. At the very bottom, she found the leather bag that held the few silver coins she had managed to squirrel away over the years without Blackadder noticing.
“’Tis not much, but here are two for you and two for the cook.” She put the coins in his palm and closed his fingers over them. “Please tell Cook I am sorry to see him go.”
She found David sitting on the keep steps sharpening a long dirk with a whetstone and wearing a hard expression. He looked very much as if he was preparing to make good on his threat to skin someone alive.
“I must speak with ye,” Alison said.
“I’ve other matters to attend to.” He pressed his lips into a firm line and drew the whetstone across the blade with unnecessary force.
“Why are ye sending all the servants away?” she asked.
