Page 101 of The Knight's Pledge
Lucan stilled. “Your Grace?”
Henry nodded. “I consent. But let us keep it between the two of us until after tomorrow’s necessity is done. You are taking Caris Hargrave’s blood kin, after all, and I will no doubt suffer the repercussions of that. So I only ask that it be accomplished with discretion.”
Lucan nodded. “I swear it.” He stood. “May Thomas’s children see him?”
“What?” Henry frowned. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. He’s been moved to one of the more comfortable cells. It was all I could do. Tell Hatteclyffe to have food sent down. Stay as long as you like. He deserves that much, I suppose,” Henry murmured, and the realization of the king’s obviously troubled conscience about the matter somehow made the ruling all the more painful.
Lucan bowed. “Thankyou, my liege.”
Henry waved a hand at Lucan and then turned his attention to his wine goblet, not looking at Lucan again while he made his way to the door and exited the chamber.
Lucan paused around a turn in the paneled corridor, out of the sight of the guards. He leaned his forehead against the cold, hard wood while painful tears swelled in his eyes.
It wasn’t enough, he knew. It wasn’t nearly enough. But it was the best he could offer her.
Lucan pressed the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and took abracing breath.
Now, he had to face Thomas Annesley. And Lucan knew that this man’s permission would mean far more to him than that of any king.
* * * *
The hoarse, muffled sobs that filled the small stone chamber when Padraig embraced Tommy caused Effie’s insides to clench. The raw pain and fear shown by a man Effie already knew to be so courageous in the face of insurmountable odds terrified her to her soul.
And yet she could not help her bitterness. Padraig had known Thomas Annesley as a father—a true father—all his life. All Effie could claim was a fortnight of road travel, and the guilt of delivering the man to an unjust death.
Lucan Montague was already present when Effie and her brothers and their wives had been led down to the cell. Their eyes met at once, but slid away awkwardly.
Gorman had been at least partly right—Lucan had been about something to Effie’s benefit, arranging this last night for Tommy and his children. He wouldn’t be there to tell though, when she returned, as he had planned to sneak out of Effie’s chamber and Westminster on his own after the sons of Scotland had quit the apartments.
Padraig pulled himself together and they all sat down at the makeshift meal, an old table and splintery, wobbly stools squeezed into the cold cell. The kitchen had served this last meal well, and there was both wine and ale. Everyone tried their best to lighten the atmosphere—Tavish had brought down draughts from the apartment, Effie had dice in her pouch. Tournaments ensued and eventually the sound of laughter rang against the stones as each one took on their share of the herculean task of making Thomas Annesley’s last night on earth one filled with family and love.
Effie sat at Lucan’s side, his presence screaming at her despite her best effortsto ignore him.
“I spoke to the king,” he murmured.
“Obviously,” she replied. “Thank you.”
“I spoke to him about you,” he clarified. “You andGeorge Thomas.”
She looked at him then, into those icy blue eyes that she’d thought cold for so long. Now she realized the color wasn’t from coolness, but like the dazzling light at the source of a blaze—glittering and blinding and containing all the warmth of creation.
“George Thomas is likely even now on his way to Scotland.” She looked back down at the cup in her hands. “I will join them after everything isover tomorrow.”
“Henry has given his leave that I might take you both to France.”
Her head turned quickly again. “What?” she whispered harshly.
“I think he believes much of what was said in court—maybe much of what was contained in the portfolio. But you were right—he’s afraid to stand against the nobles.”
It was a hollow victory, and Effie let his comments go unanswered. “What about Castle Dare?”
He gave a shrug. “I can’t go back now. Not after this. To know so much that has been gotten away with, and to have my hands tied. We could marry. Start over in France.”
“You’re asking meto marry you?”
“It’s the best solution,” he said, his brows knit together. “You and George will be under the protection of my family name. It’s the least I can do.”
Effie’s heart ached. He wasn’t acting out of love, he was acting out of guilt and dutyto her father.
