Page 97 of The Knight's Pledge
“Your Grace,” Tavish began.
“Do not return,” Henry nearly shouted. He looked to the youngest of the sons. “Padraig Boyd, you shall remain at Westminster while evidence against you is reviewed. Infiltrating the king’s army while taking part in a coup against a noble house is punishable by death. And as for your new bride,” here, Henry looked to Iris, “because of your brother’s faithful service, you shall be lucky if I only have your marriage annulled for your own good. Perhaps France is the place for you, after all.”
“I’d stay with my husband, my liege,”Iris replied.
“You don’t have a choice, madam,” Henry answered with a squint. He looked to Effie. “Euphemia Hargrave, you have committed grave misdeeds against the family that, from all appearances, was only trying to better your station in life and shield you from the awful truth of your parentage. The personal accusations against you are severe. I order that you are stripped of the name given you at birth and you are under no circumstances to return to Northumberland. As for your son, because Lady Hargrave is in no condition to care for, and indeed, has yet no suitable place to raise a child of such a young age, the boy known as George Thomas shall be remanded into the care of the Crown until he is of such an age of majority as to be enteredinto service.”
Henry looked at Caris Hargrave. “You will be granted a loan from the Crown to rebuild your home, Lady Hargrave. Although I regret to tell you what you already likely know—that it shall be too long in the construction for it to ever be completed inyour lifetime.”
Caris Hargrave hid her face in her kerchief.
The king looked back to Effie. “Where is your son?”
Effie’s lips felt numb, her hearing was muffled. She wasn’t sure she understood the question at all, although surely it wasn’t so complicated. “I…I don’t know, Your Grace. I’ve not yet seen him today.”
Henry nodded, as if this was a perfectly acceptable answer. “Seek him tonight for your good-byes.” He looked to the intendant pointedly.
“All rise,”the man called.
Henry left the dais through the little door in the rear wall, his scribe snatching up the satcheland following.
Thomas Annesley was led away bythe two guards.
And Effie fainted onto the stone floor.
* * * *
Lucan and James helped Effie through the crowd while Thomas Annesley’s sons and daughters-in-law did their best to shield the woman from gawking eyes. Effie was mostly on her own power by the time they reached the apartments, and she went directly to her chamber and closed the door behind her, leaving James Montrose bracing himself on either side of the doorframe, his head hanging down.
Finley and Lachlan, too, went to their chamber. No one spoke. Lucan sat down at the long central table, the air in the common room stale and cold and heavy. Padraig sat across from Lucan, his forehead lowered onto his clenched fists while Iris sat at his side, her hand stroking his back. Tavish Cameron and his wife took places at the end of the table, joined together byone hand each.
“That’s it,” Padraig said hoarsely, his voice sounding loudly flat against the tabletop. “It’s over.”
No one refuted him.
“I’m gone,” James Montrose announced, pushing himself away fromthe doorframe.
“Where are you going?” Tavish asked with a frown.
“I’ve got to warn the others to get out of the city,” he said as he walked toward the door. “Once they discover George is missing, they’ll alert the guards, and they’ll never get through the gate.”
“James, wait,” Lucan called. “You’ll be followed—”
The young man spun around and for moment, Lucan thought James would swing. But he only stabbed afinger at him.
“Shut. Up,” he said through clenched teeth. “Shut up.” He left the common room and slammed the door behind him.
Iris was watching Lucan with pity in her eyes.
He’d failed. He’d failed Thomas Annesley. He’d failed his sister, and their parents. He’d failed Tavish and Lachlan and Padraig. He’d failed James and the familyof the Warren.
He’d failed Effie. AndGeorge Thomas.
He’d failedNorthumberland.
All their lives were in ruins because of Lucan. Because he’d said nothing when he’d had the chance, pridefully assuming that the king thought so highly of him, that surely Henry would ask his opinion on the situation. An opinion Lucan had stayed up the remainder of the night crafting for just that moment when he would be given the floor to speak before the court.
Dashed.
