“What is the message?”
“Are you offering to relay it, or do you simply wish to know?”
“Both.”
“An honest answer, my lord. And to that I will repeat that the lady asked me to give d’Aurilliac the message personally.”
St. Alban sighed. He was attempting to remain congenial, cooperative, but he did not want to give anything away.
“You will forgive me, Sir William, if I am reluctant to reveal Brogan’s whereabouts,” he said quietly. “You are, after all, de Neville’s knight. You could simply be using tactics to locate Brogan and I will not knowingly contribute to his capture.”
William’s blue eyes glimmered in the firelight. “Understood. But you must trust me when I tell you that I am only to deliver the message to d’Aurilliac, not to capture him. The deal the lady made with her uncle negates the need for capture.”
St. Alban didn’t like the sound of that at all. His flabby body tensed with consternation. “What does that mean?”
William’s expression lost some of its hardness. “Take me to d’Aurilliac. There is much he should know.”
St. Alban almost refused again. But there was something in William’s manner that suggested his request was sincere. Still, he would not be so foolish. “I will take you and you alone. We will not be followed or accompanied.”
“You have my oath.”
Being an honorable knight himself, St. Alban believed him. To date, Inglesbatch had been truthful and open. St. Alban had no reason to doubt him, other than he was sworn to de Neville.
“Where does your loyalty truly lie, Sir William?” he could not help himself from asking in a strangely pleading tone. “You should be blindly loyal to de Neville, yet you demonstrate your loyalty to his rebellious niece over all.”
William’s expression wavered slightly. “I am sworn to Richard de Neville, Earl of Warwick. I would defend the man to the death.”
“I was not attempting to insult your allegiance, Sir William. But if de Neville is intent on separating the lady and Brogan, you have made it clear that the lady has your sympathies. Or… do you seek to gain her trust only to betray her?”
William’s expression slackened further. “Of course not,” he said quietly. “Lady Avalyn and I have known each other for many years. She has always been extremely kind to me. I do not like seeing her so upset and I do not like the situation she has found herself in. I would help her, if only to deliver a message to someone she has already endured a great deal for.”
St. Alban watched the man’s features, the way his lips moved when he spoke of her. He didn’t know why he hadn’t sensed it earlier; the man was in love with her. There was no other explanation. For a man like Inglesbatch to have risen in the ranks of The Kingmaker, his abilities were beyond question. He had to be a strong, cunning man. But it was evident that even though his loyalty was with de Neville, his heart was with the niece. It made for an interesting situation. And strangely, it made St. Alban trust him.
“William,” St. Alban lowered his voice, acquiring a tone of familiarity. “There are things you should know before you proceed. I am not entirely sure how this situation veered so far out of control, but the lady and Brogan were indeed together tonight. Though they did nothing immoral or questionable that I was able to determine, they did pledge their love to one another and agree to marry.”
William didn’t flinch, though his stomach lurched. He let out a sigh, running his fingers through his dark, somewhat messy, hair. “But they have only just met. How can they…?”
St. Alban put up a hand. “Love is a strange thing. Sometimes it takes minutes, sometimes it takes years. With Brogan and the lady, the attraction was instant. But there is more.”
William’s eyebrows lifted. “What more could there be?”
“They adopted an orphan. A little girl, absolutely beautiful. They plan to marry and raise her as their own.”
William just stared at him. His choice was to either explode like a father or sink like a jilted lover. For a long, heavy moment, the revelation hung between them. After a moment, William simply hung his head.
“A family,” he murmured. Then his head came up, an ironic smile on his lips. “So Avie finally has her family.”
“What do you mean?”
“Precisely that,” William sighed heavily. “She lost her parents at a very young age, and in spite of living with her aunt and uncle, she always felt as if she lacked a true family. Now… now she is apparently trying to make one with d’Aurilliac.”
St. Alban didn’t reply for a moment. In faith, he was he wasn’t sure what to say. But what eventually came out was the truth. “Brogan lost his wife to childbirth eleven years ago. Then, three months ago, his young son was killed. The man has not been the same since. The night he met the lady, he was contemplating taking his own life because the pain was just too great. Lady Avalyn saved his life, William. Perhaps he has saved hers a little bit as well.”
William thought of the lady with the golden eyes, sweet and savvy and wrapped up in her uncle’s politics. She had always been so focused on her uncle’s schemes and desires, as if nothing else existed. It was unusual for a lady, especially one so young, to involve herself in politics the way she did. But in hindsight, William wondered if she wasn’t involving herself simply to belong to something and to feel needed.
“I have known the lady a long time,” he said after a moment. “She’s never truly known the attention or caring of another human being. Her aunt and uncle are as concerned as they can be for her and they have certainly given her everything she could ever want, but the truth is that she has two cousins that take priority. There are those who have tried to show her attention, but… well, suffice it to say that there have been others. But she has given them no regard.”
St. Alban could read the man like an open book. “You?”
