Page 10 of Never Love a Lord
Cecily knew he didn’t wish to voice aloud anything more dire now that they both knew the king’s soldiers were en route to Fallstowe.
“I don’t know,” she said, and her words betrayed the frustration and confusion she felt.
Oliver got out of the bed and began searching for his pants. “I’ll send a messenger to the men I left behind. Perhaps they—”
His words were interrupted by a rapping on the chamber door. Cecily met her husband’s gaze for a solemn instant.
“Who calls?” Oliver commanded as he fastened his pants and strode to the door.
“Argo, my lord.” The answer was muffled through the wood.
Cecily watched as her husband opened the door a bit, and she was glad that he had not admitted Bellemont’s steward. She pulled the coverlets up to her shoulders and waited while Oliver murmured with his man.
“What?” he shouted suddenly, and then seemed to forget about decorum as he left the door swinging and marched back across the room to throw the curtains over the windows, leaving them completely open. He braced his hands on the windowsill and hung his head for a moment. “Perfect,” he muttered. “Perfect!”
“What is it, Oliver?” Cecily asked, glancing toward the doorway and seeing only a sliver of the proper Argo’s form.
Her husband glanced at her. “One moment, love.” He strode back to the door, shared a few quiet words with Argo, and then closed the door once more. He sighed and leaned his back against the wood.
“Edward’s men gained Fallstowe last night after we left.”
Cecily brought a hand to her throat, almost afraid to ask. “Did they attack?”
“No,” Oliver said. He pushed away from the door and began searching the floor around the bed, presumably for the rest of his clothing. “No, they did not. In fact, they are no longer at Fallstowe. They’re here.”
Cecily frowned. “Here? Whatever for?”
Oliver stood upright and shook out his white shirt. “ApparentlyLord Julian Griffincarries Edward’s banner, and he is currently in residence at Fallstowe withLady Foxe,” Oliver emphasized.
“Edward’s doorman at court, you mean? With Sybilla?” This was getting stranger and stranger. “But why would the man sent to take Fallstowe from my sister send his soldiers to Bellemont?”
“Because your husband is an imbecile,” Oliver muttered. Then a bit louder, “It seems our king is prepared to accept my gracious offer of support. I am to rally Bellemont’s soldiers and be prepared to descend upon Fallstowe at Julian Griffin’s signal. In the meantime, we are to house three hundred of the king’s men whose siege has been postponed. Half of the army that was at Fallstowe.”
Cecily looked out the window once more. “But he’s at Fallstowe?Alonewith Sybilla?”
Oliver stilled his motions, facing her now with his boots in one hand. “I am obviously not the only imbecile in the land.”
Cecily felt her lips press together in a thin line. “Oh my. The poor man.”
Chapter 5
Julian groaned into his pillow in response to the polite rap on his door. It felt as though he had only closed his eyes a moment ago. In truth, the bit of hair beneath his cheek was still damp from his frigid bath.
He heard the door scrape open, and he raised his head slightly. Sweet yellow light streaked through the window to his left in a rectangular beam, signaling that dawn had indeed already come, as had the morning maid, bearing a heavily laden tray to the small table. She turned toward the hearth without a greeting and immediately set to work laying a fire.
Julian pulled himself upright and glanced at the table; whatever was inside the large silver tureen seemed to make up the bulk of his morning meal, although he was glad to see a corked flagon and cup. He shivered once violently. It would take hours for the small fire to warm him sufficiently.
“I would break my fast in the hall with Lady Foxe,” he called out to the maid’s back. “You may take the tray away.”
The maid straightened but only glanced at him, an annoyed expression on her face as she went about the room gathering up his discarded clothing and rolling them thoughtlessly into a tight bundle.
“Madam doesn’t breakfast,” the woman informed him curtly, and then turned toward the door.
“She doesn’t eat?” Julian scoffed.
“Your daughter and her nurse are in the great hall at their own meal,” the maid said, almost grudgingly, then walked to the door.
“The tray!” Julian called after her.
