One Knight Only Read online

  Now that the men were no longer being treated, Anne knew she should console Margaret, who was still trembling. But Anne wanted to see what Sir David and Sir Joseph were doing, what they would learn from corpses.

  She walked toward them, glancing cautiously at Philip and Sir Walter. But the two men were focused on the distant hills, and not her. She was close enough to the other two knights to watch them line up the four bodies and begin to search their garments. It seemed a gruesome task, but she made herself watch. Finally they looked at each other and shook their heads.

  “What about the man who jumped from the cliff to attack Sir Joseph?” Anne called.

  They shot her admiring looks, then ran slowly down the road, looking into ditches and behind clumps of ferns. When they gave a shout, Philip and Sir Walter joined Anne to watch as the other men carried the last attacker between them. They set him down on the side of the road, near the horses.

  “He is alive, but barely,” Sir David said, shaking the thief’s shoulder.

  Though Margaret stayed near her horse, leaning against its neck, Anne forced herself to look down at the injured man. Blood oozed from his mouth and nose, and even his ears, she realized as she shuddered. But at last, the prodding roused him, and he blinked in confusion. When he seemed to focus on her, Anne held her breath.

  “Who are you?” Sir Walter demanded.

  But the man just blinked at Anne and murmured hoarsely, “But…you’re not…Lady Rosamond. He said…we were to watch Lady—” With a strange gasp, he died.

  Anne felt a shiver of fear, and hugged herself. She felt suddenly vulnerable on the open road, with darkness creeping on them. “They were looking for me,” she whispered.

  Sir Walter gave a grim nod. “It seems our mission is not so secret after all. We have to reach shelter. The castle is only an hour ahead—”

  “Wait,” Philip said. “They thought she was Lady Rosamond, and he’s the only one who got close enough to see that she wasn’t.”

  Sir Joseph nodded. “That is true, but it also means that someone was looking for her.”

  “He said they were watching,” Philip pointed out. “Joseph, you must have surprised them, and they were forced to attack rather than flee, so we would think them thieves. If they were just watching for Lady Rosamond, then perhaps they don’t really know what’s going on.”

  “Neither do we,” Sir Walter said. “We must assume that the traitors know someone overheard their discussion.”

  For a moment they all looked at each other in silence. Margaret spoke in a shaky voice. “Does this mean that my lady is in greater danger?”

  Anne tried to smile reassuringly. “Nay, I think it means that they still believe that I’m your lady.”

  “And you’re in greater danger,” Philip said to Anne.

  She straightened her shoulders, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “But as you said, if they were only watching, then they must not know who overheard them.”

  Philip crossed his arms over his chest. “But they consider you a suspect. We’ll never know when they might try this again.”

  “We will remain vigilant,” Sir Walter said.

  “Vigilant?” Philip repeated in disbelief.

  “And vigilant with our noble hosts,” Sir Walter added. “Now that we know that Lady Rosamond is suspected, we won’t know if one of these noblemen we’re visiting might be a traitor himself.”

  “They would not be foolish enough to do something within their own walls,” Philip said between clenched teeth, “not when everyone knows that Lady Rosamond is visiting.”

  Sir Walter nodded to him. “Exactly. But at least these men have been handpicked because they didn’t know our lady.”

  “Yet this soldier knew her,” Philip said. “This is too dangerous for A—Lady Rosamond.”

  “We can’t stop our journey,” Anne said. “After all, this is just conjecture. There is too much at stake. But I appreciate your concern for me.”

  Sir Walter said, “Sir Joseph, ride ahead again, to prepare the castle for our approach. Be very cautious.”

  Sir Joseph grunted his assent, mounted his horse, and rode away. Anne watched him go, fearing for him, but understanding that Sir Walter would want three men guarding her.

  Turning back to the other knights, Sir Walter said, “Let us move the body with the others. We’ll hide them as quickly as we can, because we won’t have time to bury them.”

  Philip’s frown was thunderous as he looked at the backs of the retreating knights. Then he came to Anne, standing right before her. She didn’t want to look in his eyes, see the concern that might make her emotions overcome her. She tried to look around him, keep her gaze focused on the knights. But then he put his warm hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. She almost leaned her cheek against his hand, just to touch him. How could a little fright make her feel so confused?

  “Look at me,” he said in a low voice.

  She finally did, and he studied her with narrowed eyes, where compassion flickered. “Are you really capable of going on? Or are you putting on a brave front?”

  She gave him a cool smile. “I will be fine. I was just…startled.”

  “This is more dangerous than you thought it would be.” He leaned closer, his face just above hers, and whispered, “Just say the word and I will take you away from here.”

  The brief thought of being alone with him, safe, distressed her. One attack, and she was already questioning her commitment? Disappointed with herself, angry at his ready compassion, she ducked away from his hand. “I will finish what I started. But you have only just begun. If this is too much for you—”

  Philip rolled his eyes and stalked away from her, going to help cover the bodies. Not for the first time, Anne found herself wishing that she hadn’t told Sir Walter about him. Surely she would handle herself better when faced with Sir Walter’s brusque assurance, rather than Philip’s compassion. But her fears were still there, burrowed beneath, ready to alter everything she did. Philip was right; this mission had suddenly become far more dangerous. But if she were to prove herself to the League, she had to accept and learn from it.

  Philip was shocked and uneasy at the welcome Anne—Lady Rosamond—received when they approached the castle. A line of knights and soldiers stood along the battlements, and in the gloom of twilight, he could not make out their intent. In that instant, his battle readiness took over, in case they were archers about to turn away this false countess. He moved to draw his sword, saw the other three knights do the same—and then the castle soldiers began to cheer and wave. He realized that the gatehouse stood opened to them, festooned in ribbons and flowers, with hundreds of torches lit, making dusk as bright as day.

  Anne and Walter exchanged a look, and then she rode into the lead of their small party, with Walter just behind her. Philip thought that was foolish. What if someone who knew the real countess had escaped Joseph’s notice? What if Lord Milforth had hoped she was already dead?

  But no, the dying attacker had only said that she was being watched.

  When the party rode beneath the portcullis, Philip’s tension increased, but all he saw were several dozen people, some dressed as simple farmers, others obviously servants of the castle. All shouted and waved as if Lady Rosamond could be their savior.

  Philip glanced at Margaret, who rode at his side. She looked as if she might shake herself right out of the saddle. He tried for levity to ease her fears. “Is Lord Milforth that desperate to marry that he has to resort to this?”

  She gave him a faint smile and muttered, “Men.”

  As if that explained everything. Philip continued his scrutiny of the crowd. Was there someone here not happy to see Lady Rosamond?

  All held back to a respectful distance, then quieted when their lord appeared at the top of the stairs near the entrance to the great hall. He raised an arm in greeting, instead of coming down to meet Anne himself. Was he lame, and did not wish to display it?

  As Philip and his fe
llow knights dismounted, young grooms rushed to lead their horses away. He absently helped Margaret down, not taking his eyes from Anne. She’d been assisted by a man from the castle, who was dressed in a short gown and hose, and carried himself as if he were one of the lord’s closest councillors.

  “The steward?” Philip murmured to Margaret.

  She shrugged. “At the last castle, the viscount himself lifted her from the saddle and carried her across the muddy courtyard so that she wouldn’t ruin her slippers.”

  Philip arched a brow in disbelief.

  “I told ye—men.” She made the pronouncement as if it were her final word on the subject.

  Her hand on the arm of the steward—or whoever he was—Anne ascended the stairs to meet the baron. Philip fell into line near Walter, and together they followed close behind. Anne allowed the baron to take her hand and kiss it, then rest it on his own arm as he led her inside. He was not lame, and moved at a good pace. Philip saw that although the baron might have had thirty years more than Philip, the gray in the baron’s hair was sparse, and the smile he granted Anne showed his interest, which looked perfectly innocent.

  But many men were capable of behaving as others expected them to do.

  Inside the great hall, Walter drew aside the steward, motioning Philip and David to follow Anne. Philip knew he would be explaining about the attack on the road. The steward listened, his expression shocked, then gestured for several soldiers. Philip didn’t think they’d find anything, but one never knew.

  The air was cooler inside, smelling of fresh rushes scattered on the floor. As Philip’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, he still found himself as tense as if before a battle. Joseph was waiting for them, and he, too, drew close to Anne.

  Philip turned to watch two musicians serenading Anne as she walked through the crowded hall. From behind, he glared at anyone who came too close to her. Trestle tables were already set for the coming dinner, but Lord Milforth did not bring her to the head table.

  “Would you care to bathe and rest before we eat, my lady?” he asked.

  Anne smiled broadly at him. “You’ll find I’m not a woman who requires much rest, Lord Milforth.”

  There were several titters of laughter scattered through those nearby. Lord Milforth smiled in obvious surprise.

  “But I would like to wash away the dust of the road,” she continued. “Have chambers been set aside for myself, my men, and my maid?”

  “Aye, my lady. Please allow Gwen to guide you. We will all await your return, when you and I can know each other better.”

  When Anne accompanied a young girl toward the stairs at the end of the great hall, Philip started to follow.

  Walter, who had joined them again, stopped him. “Sir Philip, you and Sir Joseph remain here and see to the safety of the hall. Sir David and I will escort Lady Rosamond.”

  Philip did not like limiting her guards, but of course someone had to keep watch for mischief. He nodded and glanced toward Joseph. Although the young man was already drawing his fair share of admiring gazes from the women present, he ignored it all to watch over the crowd. Obviously well trained, he had helped save Anne’s life, and Philip was grateful.

  “Joseph, when you arrived earlier, was everything as it should be?” Philip asked in a casual voice.

  The knight glanced at him. Though his face was almost too pretty for a man, his pale blue eyes were narrowed in a keen study of Philip that betrayed uncommon intelligence. In a low voice, he said, “Aye, there are no unexplained recent arrivals. And no missing soldiers, although of course I could not question everyone in such a brief time. I will continue to, while we’re here.”

  Philip nodded. “I would help, but that might seem too suspicious for both of us to make such inquiries.”

  “Of course.” Joseph clasped his hands behind his back and went back to examining everyone in the great hall.

  When Anne returned, Philip felt some of his tension ease. Walter and David stood close behind her. She floated down the stairs in a green gown sewn with embroidered gold braid from the hemline all the way up. The neckline pointed so enticingly to her breasts, well covered, but without revealing evidence of a smock. Rather scandalous, Philip thought, but he along with every other man present approved. On her head perched a tiny frame from which hung the sheerest veil over her dark hair, pulled back with a ribbon, yet tumbling down her back almost as freely as any maiden. Even more scandalous, considering her widowed state.

  Anne held her head high, walking slowly down the stairs as if enjoying her own display. In no way did she indicate she was not what she seemed, or that she might be nervous. She held the admiring glances of every man present, and Philip knew he was one of those. How could he not, when he knew what she truly was, how very different she was from the woman she portrayed?

  Anne walked to the raised dais and the head table, where Lord Milforth met her.

  Philip followed Walter toward the nearest trestle table, and considered how he could do his part. There were certainly enough maidservants to charm; if he flirted enough this eve, he might be able to learn something about Lord Milforth—and the men he associated with.

  When Philip was seated, and bowls of warm water were being brought about to wash, he found that he could hear Anne’s conversation.

  The baron handed her a towel to dry her hands. “Lady Rosamond, I feel quite privileged to be chosen to receive a visit from you out of all the many eligible men in England.”

  Anne smiled. “My lord, you were one of the first I considered. My late husband spoke so highly of you.”

  Philip saw the baron smile in pleased astonishment; were her words fact, or was Anne free to embellish? What a bind it must be to work within the confines of a real woman, known to many.

  “I told my son this would be a good idea,” Lord Milforth continued.

  Philip felt some of his tension return. The son had to be convinced about the necessity of Lady Rosamond’s visit?

  “Your son is here?” she asked in astonishment. “But he is not at the head table with us, is he?” She looked down at the other three men seated with them, all with the appearance of upper staff.

  “Nay, Charles is with his men,” Lord Milforth said, and pointed. “I had to convince him that your visit was important.”

  Philip followed the gesture and saw Charles, not much younger than Philip himself, seated with the other knights. He glowered at his father, avoided even looking at Anne, and took a long swig from his tankard of ale. Could he be a traitor? Was he angry that his men had been discovered on the journey—or just angry that his father was looking for a new wife? Charles would bear watching.

  Anne touched the baron familiarly on the arm. “Be sure to tell your son for me that we are just meeting each other.” With a laugh, she sat back in her chair. “Although I can see we’ll have much in common. ’Tis obvious you are a skilled warrior, like my first husband.”

  Anne’s flattery seemed to achieve the effect she wanted, for Lord Milforth smiled with pleasure, then appeared sincere as he said, “You are recovering well from the shock of his death.”

  She smiled at a valet who offered her a selection from a platter of broiled fish. Then she turned back to the baron. “Aye, my lord, a wife expects death from battle or illness or old age—but an accidental death, a fall down tower stairs? The spouse left behind takes a long time to recover—as you well know.”

  “Ah, it has been many years since my dear wife’s death.”

  And just like that, Anne had engineered the conversation back to Lord Milforth, and away from the personal life that was Lady Rosamond’s. Someone had taught Anne well.

  “I am glad you have a son, Lord Milforth,” Anne said. “Were you in need of an heir, you would have been within your rights to refuse my visit.”

  “My lady, your lack of proof that you can bear children concerns me not in the least. My own dear wife took many years before she conceived our son. You are very young yet.”

  “B
elieve me, my lord, should we marry, I will do my best to prove to you my eagerness.”

  Laughter erupted all around them, and Philip couldn’t help but participate. He enjoyed listening to ribald humor from the innocent maid that Anne really was. Her confidence in herself astounded him—how had she come about it? What kind of family did she have that gave a lady’s maid such a belief in herself?

  But Walter was frowning at him. Did he think Philip paid too much attention to Anne, instead of the rest of the supper guests? Although Walter might not understand what Philip was about to do, he knew he could prove his worth. The next serving maid who passed him got a smile full of the charm he knew how to ladle.

  Anne was thankful when Lord Milforth concentrated on his meal. It was exhausting thinking of ways to be bold. And she didn’t like the disgusted looks given her by the heir himself, who had obviously chosen to slight her by sitting elsewhere. At first she suspected him in the plot against Lady Rosamond, but the more she considered it, the more foolish it seemed. Why would he be so obviously against her, if he meant her harm? That would make him too suspect. Nay, he just seemed like an immature young man who wasn’t ready to have his mother replaced.

  Though she was playing a part, it was growing far too easy to imagine herself as Lady Rosamond, in command of her place in life. She was beginning to feel that she had more in common with the nobility than with her own fellow maidservants.

  One of those maidservants was a beautiful young woman with red hair and a saucy expression; it was obvious she had an eye for Philip, who surely saw the glances cast his way as she poured ale from a pitcher. He was not of the same sober bent as the Bladesmen, because he had no problem returning her grin and lifting his tankard to be filled. The maid leaned on his shoulder as she did so, and he was granted the press of her body along his.

  Anger bubbled inside Anne, and she resented it. She was disappointed with herself that she felt distracted by Philip’s behavior. It was too easy to remember being the focus of his intense gaze.