Page 28 of Lord of Loyalty

Chapter Fifteen

Summer was proceeding apace, and the martins which had nested beneath the eaves and jetties of the London houses now swooped rapidly over the rooftops with their young. Isobel struggled against her new confinement. Keep away from the windows, don’t go out, write no letters, speak no English in front of anyone but Aloysius Maybury—her life was a series of restrictions.

How she longed for Marston House again! But she knew not what she’d find, or if Hubert had even left anything for her. Her memory was clear enough now to be certain she hadn’t been imagining that valuable items—such as her harpsichord—had gone missing. Her evil cousin had evidently not scrupled to steal whatever he chose.

One thing she’d miss when she finally returned home was, of course, Will. Her life revolved around him—when she would see him, if they would have a chance to speak, how he fared, whether or not his leg pained him. She was no better than Paulina Mathieson, thinking always of Will. It must be the fact she was mending his shirts and sewing on buttons, even embroidering his collars, that kept him constantly in her mind.

Once in her own home, she’d feel less dependent on her benefactor. Hubert must be incarcerated soon so she could return, or she truly would go mad. The garden would need her guiding hand, and the provisioning and cleaning of the house required her supervision. And all the servants hired by Hubert must be found alternative positions, so her own could be reinstated.

The task was daunting, and she’d agreed with Will when he said he didn’t think her ready. He’d assist her, she was sure, but she knew his life was currently in disarray, and hated being a burden to him.

A new servant had recently joined Will’s household, a giant of a fellow called Manners. He made her uneasy—mayhap because he reminded her of Flinders—or because he failed to behave as a servant should. He was something of a mystery. No one was sure of his status, not even Goody Cooper. His complexion was swarthy, and he had a coarse way of speaking—his equally rough hands suggested he’d labored hard in his time.

Manners was involved in a range of activities—he ran errands, answered the door to callers, and pored over documents at the table where Will wrote his letters. Isobel had seen Manners distributing coin to street urchins, and watched them scatter in all directions, like a handful of chaff thrown into the wind, apparently on some urgent business.

Will had reassured her Manners was “safe” but had stopped short of explaining the reasons for hiring him. She suspected it was to do with her, and regretted the amount of money Will must be spending in order to look after her. When, and if, she came into her inheritance, she would pay him back. Every last farthing.

This morning, Isobel was sitting in a shaft of sunlight in the old solar, embroidering the cuffs of one of Will’s shirts. She knew he was keen to win favor at court, so she’d make sure he outshone all the other gentlemen when he got there. The day’s brightness had cheered her, and she was humming contentedly when she heard running feet in the passageway.

Several doors were thrust open and slammed again until Will burst into the chamber where she sat. “Isobel, make haste. Pike has arrived with a constable. We must hide you!”

She stuck the needle into the cloth and placed the garment aside, fury warring with panic. “If he’s brought a constable, I’ll gladly speak to him and state my case.”

“Nay, that will not serve. I have not yet the evidence I seek, although I hope to acquire it now. Pike mustn’t suspect a thing—I shall wear the mask of outraged innocence. But you must hide, or all is lost.”

“No!” She wanted to confront her cousin. These weeks of pent-up anger and resentment needed an outlet, and to have him taken into custody by the very officer he’d brought with him would afford her great entertainment.

Will swore softly, then swung her up and threw her over his shoulder. The devil! She should struggle, fight, and kick. But he was wearing a shirt she’d finished embroidering just the other day, and that might get damaged. He’d recently bathed, and smelled of soapwort and rosemary. His hair glinted in the golden light.

She swallowed hard. Her breath was coming in such short bursts she couldn’t have screamed if she’d wanted to. Even when he carried her down the stairs, her body bouncing with every step, she felt secure in his strong arms.

When he set her by the front door, which was resounding to the hammering of a stick against it, she managed to gasp, “If you want to hide me, why are you taking me to the door?”

He set her down, grinning. “Because of this.” Inserting his fingers into a gap in the paneling, he pulled, and a door-sized section of the wood flew open, revealing a deep, dark space behind it.

“Priest’s hole,” he explained. “Now get in there and don’t make a sound until I come to release you.”

Entwining his fingers in the lacing of her bodice, he pulled her against him and pressed his mouth over hers. Shocked, thrilled, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back and then, her heart pounding, allowed him to push her into the darkness and close the panel on her.

Chinks of light invaded her hiding place when the main door opened, only to be eclipsed as it swung in front of the paneling. Above the thundering of her heart, she heard it being hooked open, thus concealing the priest’s hole altogether. And making it impossible for her to let herself out.

Cunning, but would it work? Had Will done the right thing? Had he kissed her to keep her quiet, or to confuse her? Her thoughts were tangled, her chest tight—excited and anxious at the same time.

She heard Hubert’s voice and applied her ear to the paneling.

“What do you mean by abducting my cousin, sir? It’s despicable and unlawful, and I intend to see you pay the penalty for it. The law, as you can see, is on my side.”

How frustrating not to be able to see! But Will had done the right thing in imprisoning her here. Given the chance, she would have thrown herself at Hubert and done her level best to strangle the man. Which, in view of the fact he had a constable with him, would not have been wise.

“You forget your manners, sir. This is my house, and I have a right to defend it. Manners, my blade, if you please.”

Isobel froze. He couldn’t mean to fight. And if he did, not to let her watch him spike her cousin like the worm he was would be grievously unfair.

“There’s no need to send your monkey for your sword. I’m not about to attack you.”

“For a man who intends no violence, you have a belligerent aspect.” Will’s tone was icy. “Manners, I recall you have an errand to run for me. This fellow insists he means me no harm.”

Will was sending Manners away? This frightened her. He could best Hubert with both hands tied behind his back, but the constable was bound to be strong. She’d be able to do nothing at all, trapped as she was.