Page 2 of Lord of Loyalty

“I regret to inform you of his death. I hope it will soften the blow of his loss to hear that he died nobly and bravely. I was with him to the very end, so I can vouch for everything. His family may be justly proud.”

“Oh, dear! Excuse me. I think, mayhap, a drop of sack to calm my nerves. Sir?” Hubert sounded horrified.

Isobel heard the clink of glass from below. “Oh, my poor darling Isobel. This could be the end of her.”

She froze at the sound of her name. Hubert rarely sounded so concerned about her.

Cavendish asked, “The end of her?”

There was a hard edge to his voice. Perchance he cared no more for Hubert than she did herself. Nay, she should not be so ungrateful. Her cousin was trying to make her better, and he kept away ignorant physicians who didn’t understand such maladies as brain fever.

“Edward and Isobel were very close, you understand. She is greatly changed since he went away, care-worn and worried. With good reason, it appears.”

“You weren’t close to him yourself, sir?”

“Alas, no. Our sires quarreled you see—one of those ridiculous feuds that can take hold in even the best of families. I have endeavored to make amends since their demise, of course. How fortunate that we did, or the girl would have had no one to care for her in her darkest hour. Are you certain Edward is dead? Where did it happen?”

There was a pause before Cavendish answered. “I watched him die—I cannot tell you where. I’ve barely slept the night through since.”

“Cannot, or will not tell me? Edward never did say where he went to make his name as a soldier.”

“My lips are sealed. You must appreciate that youngbloods seeking favor at court are wont to get themselves into mischief—I would not harm his memory by revealing his secrets. But if you don’t trust my veracity, I have here the seal ring he gave into my keeping. And a signed note—it’s in my baggage, and can be fetched if required.”

Had Orpheus been fighting? Perhaps in Greece, or at Troy? Isobel shook her head—this was very confusing.

“Where is Isobel? I was charged to give her my news in person.”

She sat bolt upright. Was she going to be allowed into the parlor? That was where her harpsichord was—how she’d missed being allowed to play it!

“As I said—she has not been herself since Edward went away. I fear for her sanity. It is neither meet nor proper that she should come down and receive these tidings in her present state. I shall tell her when I deem ’tis right.”

No! Hubert was going to deny her. Tears pooled in her eyes.

“You’re welcome to stay the night and recover from your journey. You’ll soon see we have nothing to hide.”

She dashed the tears away. Orpheus was staying the night? There was hope yet she might meet him face-to-face.

“Most hospitable of you, sir, but I must see Mistress Marston. ’Twas a deathbed promise I made to her brother, and thus cannot be broken.”

Hubert made no answer—he hadn’t expected the stranger to be so persistent, had he? Isobel clenched her fists—it was as much as she could do not to fly down the stairs and tell the stranger how desperate she was for company.

“Mayhap I’ve not made myself clear enough,” Hubert said. “The young lady is barely in her right mind. Her wits have been addled for some time now, and the information you bring could unhinge her completely. I’m sure Edward would not have wished you to take such a risk, had he known.”

She heard a chair scrape back as someone got to their feet. “Perchance I’ve not made myself clear. I wish to see Isobel Marston in the flesh, forthwith.”

“Very well. On your head be it if she falls into a rage or a swoon, and all the goodness we’ve lavished on her these last few weeks is wasted.” Hubert was clearly irritated. “Be warned—you’ll not care for what you see. But be assured we know her mind well enough and will tell you if she’s likely to strike you.”

Yes! Hubert had given in. Isobel scuttled back to her room, closed the door and sat on the bed, heart pounding. Soon, the heavy tread of Flinders’ feet could be heard on the stairs—he’d be angered at being torn away from his kitchen wench. Hopefully, he’d not revenge himself on her.

Moments later, Isobel was ushered into the parlor, Flinders’ thick fingers gripped tightly around her elbow.