Page 22 of By the Sword
‘So, who was your mysterious Master Miller?’ Ellen asked.
‘Jonathan Thornton,’ Kate replied.
Ellen’s hand paused in the brushing. ‘Not that ’un. Now what mischief is he playing at?’
‘He’ll be travelling with us to York, Ellen, in the guise of my cousin John Miller, a bookseller from London,’ Kate said.
‘Will he now?’ Ellen’s lips pursed.
‘Don’t give me that look.’ Kate knew her maid well. ‘There is naught but the need for company…and the need for secrecy.’
Ellen glared at her mistress in the mirror’s reflection. ‘His secret’s safe enough with Dickon and me,’ she said. ‘You’ve my word on that, mistress. It’s more a question of whether we’ll be safe with ’im. Seems to me that lad’s trouble.’
‘We’ll be fine, Ellen. Anyway,’ she added brightly, ‘it will be good to have another man travelling with us. Much safer.’
‘If you say so,’ Ellen said.
***
As they gathered in the inn courtyard early the next morning, Jonathan cast a disapproving eye over Tom’s pony.
‘No wonder your progress is so slow,’ Jonathan remarked.
‘I keep telling Mother I need a bigger horse,’ Tom said.
Kate stiffened. ‘You are only nine. Holly does you well enough,’ she said.
Jonathan exchanged a deeply sympathetic look with his young cousin. It had gladdened his heart to see young Tom, and he had every confidence that the boy understood the need for the subterfuge.
Too much like me at that age, he thought.
Ellen glared at him, and the young groom, Dickon, inclined his head with suitable respect. He knew his very presence brought them all into danger but as long as they played their parts, they would be safe. For a couple of days at least, he could enjoy the tedious journey north and it gave him the time and leisure to get to know the intriguing Mistress Ashley.
His grey mare, Amber, nudged him and he gave her a piece of carrot before swinging easily into the saddle.
‘Would booksellers normally ride quite so obvious a horse?’ Kate inquired once they were on the road.
‘They would if they liked horses.’ Jonathan patted his handsome mare on the neck.
‘Where did you get her?’ Kate asked.
He smiled at her. ‘I won her at cards.’
‘Is cards one of your vices?’
‘Not generally. I lack Giles’ ability to cheat convincingly,’ he replied. ‘My vices are the love of good horses, good wine and attractive women.’
‘So I hear.’ Kate said with a tight little smile.
He gave her a sideways glance. He did not doubt that Nell had embroidered his faults as skilfully as she did her needlework.
‘You shouldn’t believe all you hear about me.’
Kate turned her level gaze on him. ‘I don’t. I prefer to make my own judgments about people.’
‘And what have you concluded about me?’ he ventured.
Her cheeks coloured and she fixed her gaze on the road ahead. ‘I don’t think that you fit the description of the Jonathan Thornton of family legend, the scapegrace grandson.’
