Page 61 of Lord of Loyalty

Chapter Thirty-Four

Isobel was thrust behind Will as he squared his shoulders and felt for the hilt of his sword. Which, she saw with alarm, wasn’t there, and nor was his sword-belt. Yet he was prepared to defend her with his body—which made her love him all the more. If they could but survive the next few moments, they might find true happiness together.

Which was something worth fighting for. She peeped out past Will’s shoulder, setting her chin at her cousin.

Hubert’s eyes narrowed. “What’s this? Who let you out, you mad bitch? I shall have words with the authorities about this.”

“Stand off, cur.” Will bristled with fury. “You’ll do no further damage here.”

“Why? It is you who should stand off, interfering again where you’re not wanted.”

Ah! She’d forgotten how tight and whining a voice her cousin had. She tensed, ready to leap to Will’s defense if needed. She’d use her teeth, her nails—whatever it took. Aye, and scream a good deal, too—nothing on earth would induce her to enter Bedlam again. Death would be infinitely preferable. She stepped around Will and folded her arms, glaring at her cousin.

“Pah!” Hubert spat on the ground. “A fine pair you make. Stand back, girl. Only a desperate man would want you now.” He looked her up and down in a way that made her sick to her stomach.

He turned his attention to Will again. “You’ll regret this, sirrah,” he sneered. “She’s broken, ruined. There’s nothing you can do to help her. Get away now, before she drags your name into the mire along with her own.”

How dare he! She’d done nothing wrong, done nothing to deserve the cruelty with which Hubert had treated her. He was a black-hearted villain, and she loathed him.

“You impugn an innocent and honorable lady, and must pay for it.” Will’s voice was thick with fury. “Isobel, pray, return to the Cartwrights’ room of business and remain there until I tell you otherwise. Your cousin and I have a score to settle.”

She didn’t move. This was her fight, too.

“You love that?” Hubert jabbed a finger towards her. “She had no beauty or skills when first I found her, and she has none now. Why, she doesn’t even have hair! She looks like a gutter whore.”

Anger swamped her. She threw herself at Hubert and, summoning all her strength, slapped him on the cheek. He growled and lunged at her, but she sidestepped him. The next moment, he was on the ground with a furious Will on top of him.

No! What had she done? She’d put Will in danger by antagonizing Hubert. But as she gazed about for anything she could use as a weapon, she saw Will knock Hubert’s head sideways with a powerful blow. As the blood began to trickle from her cousin’s mouth, he freed his hands and struggled to throw his opponent off.

Will had just clenched his fist for another blow when she saw sunlight flash on cold steel. She screamed, but it was too late—Hubert had sunk a dagger into Will’s arm. Grunting in pain, Will rolled aside and scrambled to his feet, dealing Hubert a savage kick in the stomach as the man tried to rise. While Hubert gasped for air, Will squeezed his wrist with such force, the fingers around the knife went white, but Hubert refused to relinquish his blade.

There were shouts and running feet, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the fight. With a great yowl of fury, her cousin heaved himself up, still brandishing his weapon, then crashed back to the ground in an awkward twisting motion as Will knocked his legs out from under him.

There was a gurgling noise as Hubert landed on his front, and the air screamed out of his lungs. Suddenly, the fight seemed to have left him.

Someone took hold of her arm, but she shook them off. As her cousin remained unmoving, Will knelt, fists still raised in case of some trick. Master Cartwright, who must have followed his visitor across the sward, reached out and rolled Hubert over.

His own knife protruded from a bloody wound in his chest. His face was pallid, his eyes already dimming.

“Call a surgeon, someone.” Will’s voice was ragged, shocked. “You must have bandages here or something.”

“Too late, I fear, Sir William.” Cartwright was leaning over the body.

Nausea rose in Isobel’s throat, and she struggled not to choke. Her knees went limp, and she put out a hand to save herself from falling, but Will was there, supporting her.

“I’m so sorry—I never meant that to happen, nor for you to witness it.” His voice was rough with emotion.

“It wasn’t your fault. I should not have goaded him.”

He held her close. “None could blame you, after what he’s done.”

Cartwright was still examining Hubert’s body, inspecting it for any sign of life. His wife stood by the door to their office, her face as white as death. “Shall I send for a constable?” Her tone was abnormal, high-pitched.

“There’s no hurry. We’ll need to fetch the coroner in due course.” Her husband glanced up. “No crime has been committed here. Yon fellow died upon his own dagger—we all saw it. Sir William drew no weapon and acted to defend himself when this man pulled out his knife.”

Will eased away from Isobel. “A moment, I beg you.”

She stood there shaking as he examined the body, and pulled a gore-stained paper from the corpse’s pocket. Stern-faced, he scanned the contents, then stood and returned to her side. “This is your will, Isobel, leaving everything you own to Hubert Pike. All it lacks is a signature. No doubt he was hoping to force you into that when he came to see you today.”