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“Varden Crenardieu’s men.” She moistened her dry lips. “He is a wealthy merchant who controls our town, Clovebury. He is responsible for… He stole your cloth shipment.”
De Lanceau’s gaze sharpened. He glanced at Aldwin, then back at her.
“Dominic confided in me about his mission to find the silks,” she went on. “He discovered Crenardieu’s treachery and tried to send you a missive yester eve, but they found out and captured him.”
“God’s blood.” De Lanceau sounded furious and worried. “You know this man, Crenardieu?”
“Aye.” Her stomach tightened. She braced herself to reveal her involvement. “He and his lackeys often visited my tailor’s shop. I must confess, milord, I—”
“Mama,” Ewan piped up, “tell how you bashed that thug over the head.”
She gasped. “Ewan.”
Holding a wooden soldier in each hand, the little boy whacked them together. “Crash! The bowl smashed into lots of pieces. Just like when you hit Father.”
De Lanceau’s eyebrows raised. He clearly expected her to explain.
Gisela bit back a groan. Not only had she spoken like a dimwit earlier, now he thought her a bowl-smashing madwoman. Pressing a hand to her brow, she said, “Milord, I assure you, I had reason for my actions. You see, I—”
“Geoffrey?” A feminine voice and the whisper of silk carried from the doorway. A young woman, her belly rounded with child, hurried into the chamber as she smoothed the sleeves of her embroidered green gown. Left unbound, her black hair cascaded in glossy curls to the small of her back. “What is the news of Dominic?”
Gisela dropped to her knees again, pulling her little boy over beside her. “Milady.” She sensed the woman’s gaze traveling over them.
“Elizabeth,” de Lanceau said, “this is Dominic’s Gisela.”
“I see.” From the woman’s voice, she had heard of Gisela before, too. “This is your son, Gisela?”
“Aye. He is named Ewan.” She dared to raise her gaze. “Please, milord, do not think me impertinent, but I am not ‘Dominic’s Gisela.’”
The lady was smiling. A warm, knowing smile. Curiosity swirled up inside Gisela like a hundred tossed petals. The lady did not look upon her as though she were a deceitful thief. What, exactly, did Lady Elizabeth know about Gisela?
“She was just telling me about Dominic,” de Lanceau said.
“Good.” Standing at his side, Lady Elizabeth ran a hand over her bodice. “I will listen, too.”
His lordship frowned. “This matter is not of your concern.” His expression softened a fraction as he pressed a tender hand to her belly. “You look weary, damsel. Why do you not return to bed? In the morning, I will—”
“Not tell me a thing,” she said, with a defiant jut of her chin. “I will stay. Dominic is a dear friend of mine, as well.”
De Lanceau scowled. A flush darkened his cheekbones. “Elizabeth.”
She smiled most sweetly. “Geoffrey.”
The two stared at each other, locked in a silent battle of wills. Uncertain quite what to say or do, Gisela rose to her feet, then glanced down at Ewan. He sat in the midst of the toys, looking wide-eyed at his lord and ladyship.
“Mama,” he whispered. “I hope she does not hit him with a bowl.”
De Lanceau laughed.
Lady Elizabeth exhaled on a chuckle. “What?”
Grinning, his lordship said, “Ewan told me his mother bashed two men over the head with bowls.”
“I see.” Admiration glowed in the lady’s eyes. Slanting her husband a wry look, she said, “Was she trying to knock some sense into them?”
Gisela blushed. “Oh, nay! You misunderstand. I—”
“You had best tell us all,” de Lanceau said, and his lady wife nodded. “Start from the very beginning of your tale, Gisela. Be sure to reveal all you know of Dominic’s predicament.”
