Page 30 of The Knight's Pledge
But Lucan was oblivious to her bitterness. “It is.”
Effie bristled at her envious and resentful feelings. Lucan Montague had been free to gad about the world with his mistress to warm, rich estates while his own sister had been locked away in a nunnery, and Effie and the family ran the Warren, trying to keep the countryside of Northumberland from starving, or worse. But she held her tongue as they walked a bit further along the wharf.
“I thought I might ask if you had any suggestions where to place the portfolio for safe keeping,” he said.
“You wantmyadvice?” she reiterated with a sideways glance.
“And Gorman’s, of course.”
“You know he isn’t my husband, don’t you?”
“I suspected as much. If you are the daughter of Thomas Annesley and Cordelia Hargrave, you’re noble. No matter that Gorman comes from well-respected parentage, you could never have married him and hoped to claim so much as a splinter of Darlyrede House.”
“That sounds rather mercenary,” Effie said. “Perhaps I don’t care one whit for Darlyrede andits holdings.”
“First of all, I don’t think that’s true, if only for the benefit of your son. Secondly, if it is true, whydidn’tyou marry him?”
He had managed to do her up in a trap ofher own laying.
“My point is,” she said, ignoring his question, “you didn’t come to Gorman. You waited for me. In a dark alley. So that I nearly stabbed you.”
“I’ve been recently and thoroughly informed of your sovereignty within the group, so one might say I chose to start at the top with my inquiry. You’ve already shot me, a second injury would be painfully redundant.”
Effie chuckled.“Dear Chumley.”
“I thought the old blighter was going to try me on after you left the solar.”
“Be glad he didn’t,” Effie said.
This time it was Lucan who laughed. “You must have a very low opinion of the skills by which I secured my rank as a knight.”
“Not at all,” Effie said. “It’s only that you would have been as a babe wielding a daisy on a long stem against Chumley.”
“Oh, nowIamoffended.”
She stopped, prompting Lucan to do the same. They faced each other on a little slope of cobbles going down to the gentle rush of the Thames. The moonlight rippled on the rounded stones and the air was crisp and taut and held back the smells of the day suspended in the sheer clouds wafting across the inky sky.
“Do you trust me, Lucan?”
“Not at all,” he said at once.
“I don’t trust you either,” Effie replied, strangely pleased with his insulting answer. “And it’s no secret that I don’t happen to like you. But if we are to work together toward a common goal, we shall be placed in a predicament that would seem to force a certain level of dependence. A state of which I am in complete abhorrence.”
“I find I must agree. Begrudgingly, of course.”
“Of course. Very well. If we are in agreement, then I must advise you, if only for your own safety, that the drunkard you are so condescending toward is none other than Roger Cholmeley, Lordof Millsbury.”
Lucan’s expression did not change. In fact, he seemed to be carved from moon-washed stone. “You’re joking. Roger Cholmeley was killed by the king’s men after—”
“After he flew into a drunken rage and beat his wife and young daughter to death?”Effie finished.
“Worse than that. It wassaid that he—”
Effie cut him off again. “I know all too well what the rumors were,and still are.”
“And I well know the reputation of Roger Cholmeley as one of the king’s men. Lord Roger Cholmeley fought his way out of the midst of thirty Scottish soldiers at the Battle of Sark. He carried his own captain across his shoulders for twelve miles to safety and rescued his entire company. It’s still talked about among the soldiers.ThatLordRoger Cholmeley?”
“Yes.”
