“Yes, Avalyn?” Anne looked up from the brush in her hands.
Avalyn turned to the small, dark woman. “I want William to come with me. I do not want to go to my husband without a man who does not serve him. I want someone who will serve only me.”
Anne put the brush down and wiped her hands on a linen towel. “William is sworn to your uncle, dear. You must ask him.”
“Will you ask him for me? I fear his anger towards me is not yet abated.”
Anne didn’t reply for a moment. She knew of Inglesbatch’s feelings for Avalyn; they all did. But she was trying to determine why Avalyn felt the need to take the man. Security? Manipulation? When the pause became excessive, Avalyn turned to her aunt again. “Will you, please?” she asked.
Anne untied the heavy apron before answering. “Your husband’s men will be sworn to you also when you marry him. Why must you take William?”
Avalyn climbed from the tub as the two ladies cloaked her with linen towels. “Because my future husband’s captain was quite brutal to me earlier. I do not trust him. I would like protection of my own, even from my husband’s own knight.”
Anne’s thin face tightened. “Aubrey’s man was cruel?”
Avalyn nodded as the women dried her vigorously. “I am afraid of him, auntie. Please ask Uncle Richard if I may take William. It would make me feel so much better with him to protect me. Will you please go and ask him now?”
Anne gazed at her niece, feeling the pity she had been so desperately trying to stave off creep into her veins. She hadn’t been keen on this betrothal since the beginning; it had been her husband’s doing and, as a good wife, she supported him. But hearing of Aubrey’s cruel knight increased her doubt. If taking Inglesbatch made Avalyn feel better, then so be it. She saw no harm in it. With a sigh, she nodded her head.
“Very well,” she set the heavy apron aside. “I will do what I can.”
“Thank you, auntie,” Avalyn said softly.
Anne didn’t respond as she quit the chamber. Avalyn waited a few moments before turning to her aunt’s ladies. The two women were finely bred, older, and were her aunt’s shadow. Avalyn had never particularly liked them; they were hovering, judgmental, and cloying.
“Get out,” she snapped. “I would dress alone.”
The women didn’t argue. But when they didn’t move fast enough, Avalyn barked at them and they quickly fled. When the door shut behind them, Avalyn threw off the linen towels and began madly rummaging through the clothes the ladies had laid on the bed. She found a lamb’s wool shift of soft white and threw it on, followed by a pair of pantalets that were Anne’s because they were too narrow and too long.
Working very, very quickly and a bit sloppily, she put on a pale blue surcoat made from very fine linen and lined with white rabbit. It had a sash tie rather than a girdle or belt, and she hastily tied the sash as she went hunting for shoes. The only shoes she was able to find immediately were Isobel’s doeskin boots with fur lining and she yanked them on, so swiftly thatshe lost her balance and fell onto the bed. But that was of little matter; she was dressed, albeit not too elegantly, and her last order of business was to grab a yellow hair ribbon that young Anne had tossed on the floor. With a few strokes of the fishbone comb through her damp hair, she braided it very quickly and tied it with the ribbon, leaving the thick braid draped over her right shoulder.
The hidden servant’s entrance called to her, lodged in the dark recesses behind the massive wardrobe. Avalyn had no idea where it went because she’d never used it, but at this moment, she was desperate. She could only hope it didn’t lead to the dungeons somewhere. Without a second thought, she was through the doorway and heading down a very narrow flight of steps. When the dark stairs emptied out into an equally dark corridor that eventually spilled into an alcove off the main hall downstairs, she knew exactly where she was.
She ran faster than she had ever run in her entire life.
*
The smell ofbaked bread and other cooking scents filled the air as St. Alban directed William into a cluster of shops and merchant stores, now beginning to open for the day. Just after dawn, the city was coming alive with peasants going about their business. The two big chargers made loud clopping noises against the hard-packed earth of the dirty London avenue; William’s charger had to be muzzled because the beast was particularly vicious and those going about their business made sure to avoid the foaming horse.
St. Alban steered the horses down a narrow alleyway and dismounted next to a non-descript shop. William obediently stopped his horse and dismounted, looking around at the wood and plaster frame structures. A cinder from a cooking fire hadlanded on the thatched roof of one of them but the spark had died, leaving a trail of smoke up into the blue sky. As William studied his surroundings, St. Alban pounded on the door of the shop. Somewhere, a dog barked, startling the horses.
The old wooden panel flew open in a matter of seconds. William turned around to find himself gazing into Brogan d’Aurilliac’s deep blue eyes. Both men froze for a moment, unsure to react, but after the initial surprise faded, Brogan’s expression began to harden. St. Alban could see the storm brewing and he moved quickly to diffuse it.
“Brogan,” St. Alban said firmly before the man could erupt. “This is Sir William Inglesbatch. He brings a message from Lady Avalyn that he wishes to deliver personally.”
Brogan didn’t say anything, but his jaw flexed furiously. It was clear that he was shocked, infuriated. His predominate rage was directed at St. Alban for bringing de Neville’s knight to his mother’s doorstep. He did not want any trouble here. But contrary to his nature, he managed to keep his calm. The situation was far too important and he was frankly glad to have any manner of communication regarding Avalyn. Even from one of her uncle’s knights.
“Is she all right?” he managed to rumble.
William nodded. “May we speak inside?”
With the greatest reluctance, and a vicious glare at St. Alban, Brogan stepped back and allowed William and the old man entrance. Mama Starke was up, baking bread for the day, and her big blue eyes were wide at the men entering her small shop. Brogan led them into the front of the store, away from his mother’s sensitive ears.
“Well?” he demanded when they came to a halt. “Where is Avalyn?”
Though William had known of Brogan for many years and, as he had mentioned, had even fought alongside the man, he’dnever been this close to him. Legends, rumors and visions from a distance did not do the man justice; he was positively enormous, with massive muscles roping along his forearms and disappearing beneath his tunic. He had an angular face and square jaw and deep-set blue eyes that were the color of the stormy ocean. William studied the man for a brief moment, the man that Avalyn was so in love with. He had an inherent curiosity towards the man she had risked everything for.
“She is in her apartment,” William replied steadily. “She has sent me with a message for you.”
