Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

" M y lord," Elara greeted her host, Lord Ashford, as Evelina fell into step beside her.

Elara had been to Ashford Manor only a few times since coming to Castle Blackwood. Though it was a short ride from the village, she had little occasion to visit. The financier of their order had once greeted every new recruit for supper, but now that Lady Evelina no longer resided at the manor, he had stopped the practice.

She watched him now with Evelina, a terse moment as the lady greeted the man who raised her. The man she had believed, until recently, was her father. Yesterday, when the invitation had been extended, Evelina had confided to Elara she worried about this meal. After she and Gareth married, for a time the two had not returned to Blackwood, worried Lord Ashford might wield his considerable influence to see the marriage dissolved. But Evelina had called his bluff and threatened to share with the world that she was not his true-born daughter.

In the end, she kept his secret and a tentative truce had been wrought. Unfortunately it meant Eamon remained in the shadows as her real father, something he claimed did not bother him after so many years, as long as Evelina was happy.

"My lady," Ashford said to Elara, though his eyes remained on Evelina and Gareth.

As Evelina reunited with the steward and servants, Elara followed Eamon and Lord Stirling into the hall. Lord Bennington was inside already, speaking with Pembroke. She'd wondered if the steward would be attending as well.

"I did not expect you," Ashford was saying to Evelina behind them. "We've business to attend to here."

That last bit was apparently directed at Gareth.

"She knows," Gareth said in response.

Everyone present, including the servants, turned to look at him. Gareth said the words to his host as if they were a threat. As if challenging Lord Ashford to question him.

Ashford scowled, even more than he had been scowling already.

"Leave us," he boomed to the servants, who scurried out of the hall, clearly accustomed to his bidding. How Evelina had lived here, under that man's thumb, for so many years, Elara could not fully understand.

"Please." He gestured to the table, on which a meal had already been set. Typically, each course would arrive separately. And Ashford would sit on the raised dais. But not this eve. It seemed, as Elara suspected, this supper was to be more business than pleasure.

"Explain yourself," he barked to Gareth when the others had left.

Lord Bennington looked as put out at having to pour himself wine as Gareth did at Ashford's tone.

"I would ask for you to speak to me with the same respect you afford the others," Gareth said. "But since you afford anyone very little, I suppose I should not be offended."

Touché, Sir Gareth Claymore.

Before Ashford could respond, he continued. "I told my wife," he spoke to the group. "Because I keep nothing from her, and I am certain we all agree she is not our traitor."

"Nay, she is not," agreed Eamon, who smiled at his daughter, which only seemed to further incense Ashford.

"So we can independently agree," Ashford shot back, "to confide in those who we deem innocent. Lady Elara?"

He wished to draw her into the disagreement, but she would have none of it.

"Perhaps we can discuss more pressing matters, such as the fact that Empress Matilda has definitively decided to take Winchester and our men will be asked to support her...with a traitor in our midst."

"I've begun to quietly recruit men for such a mission," Stirling said, "rather than make it known to all."

Ashford continued to frown, his red neck now matching his cheeks. His anger, and inability to control it, was of little concern.

"If any of those men you recruit is indeed our traitor, it will matter little how widely the mission is known," Elara reminded him.

Stirling's good eye fixed on her. "I trust each of the men with whom I've spoken. And instructed them not to share the information."

"Little good it will do," Bennington said after finally making out how to pour a goblet of wine, "if one of those you speak to is the traitor, as Lady Elara has said."

"Is there anyone who has not compromised this secret?" Ashford spat. "Or shall we simply shrug our shoulders and carry on as if those records were not altered?"

"None are suggesting as much," Eamon said, taking a bite of his roasted pheasant.

As they continued to bicker among themselves, Elara thought of the man she had brought into her confidence.

And into her bedchamber.

From an early age, Elara had considered herself unlike most women. She was taught not only to read and write, but also to negotiate and strategize. Elara knew no instruments, nor did she know how to embroider. Her father had taught her the value of independence, of not relying on any man, including him. That he did not pressure her into marrying was as unusual as her very upbringing.

Even more unusual? How quickly she had ceded control to Alden.

There was something strangely appealing in the words he spoke, his admission of being possessive, a thing that should have mortified her. Instead, as quickly as she decided she and Alden could never be together, not two sunrises later, Elara allowed herself to fall into his arms.

Correction.

His fingers. Very, very skilled fingers. What he had done to her—

"Do you not agree, my lady?" Eamon asked.

Unfortunately, Alden had distracted her too, more so than she wished to admit. "Pardon," she said. "Will you repeat the question, Sir Eamon?"

Elara noticed Evelina looking at her curiously. Did she suspect something? If she knew about the traitor, she knew of Alden's role, but certainly could not suspect there was anything untoward happening between them.

"Pembroke was saying he found nothing of interest, thus far, in the correspondence. I asked if we should consider breaking the seals of all documents delivered."

Eamon knew she'd been a proponent of such from the start. "If we can do so and reseal them properly, aye. Otherwise, 'tis too dangerous. If the traitor knows we are suspicious, he or she may not make the mistake we need for them to make in order to be discovered."

"If it is done with very gentle heat and a thin blade, I am certain none would suspect. It would be time consuming." Pembroke did not seem to relish the task. "But I agree, it may be necessary. Most of the letters that are delivered to us are, indeed, sealed."

Elara looked to each person sitting around the table. All nodded their heads.

"Let it be done," Lord Ashford said.

"Have you learned aught else?" Bennington asked her.

"Nay," she admitted. "Though I have put into place means to uncover any future plots which might be hatched. I truly believe, with very little movement from Matilda until now, the traitor has hidden themselves away."

She had another idea. Somehow, she'd not thought of it. Until now. "Of course..."

Elara pushed aside Alden's words, which slammed, unbidden, into her mind. That day, during the lesson on combat tactics, she'd asked the recruits to explain the importance of understanding their opponent's weakness and strengths. Alden had responded, "It is crucial to get close enough to truly know your opponent's vulnerabilities and desires. Sometimes, the best way to gain the upper hand is to...study an enemy intimately, understand their movements and anticipate their actions."

She had forced her expression to remain neutral. Attempted to slow her racing pulse at his words, and the memory of precisely how close to her he had gotten the night before. Alden was more clever than she imagined, more sensual than she could potentially handle, along with her duties.

For example, every single person at the table waited for her to continue, and yet it was he who consumed Elara's thoughts.

"Apologies," she stammered. "If there was a mission they sought to undermine...one which we could contrive for the sole purpose of uncovering our traitor..."

"That is brilliant," Gareth said. "Lady Elara, you are simply brilliant."

"She is indeed." Evelina beamed next to him. Elara was glad to have the lady both here and at Castle Blackwood.

"Thank you," she said to them both.

"A trap." Ashford stroked his beard. "Such a thing could work."

Elara resisted rolling her eyes.

"Do you have a specific plan in mind?" Stirling asked.

Elara thought back to her last conversation with Alden. In fact, an idea was forming, but she would not reveal it. Not here.

Not ever. Not to anyone but Alden.

"Trust no one but yourself," her father had said, over and over.

"But I can trust you," she had always argued with him.

"I will not always be with you, Elara."

And he'd not been, for far too long. She wished to see him. To share all she'd done, and learned, with him. But first, Elara needed to ensure she, and her father, remained safe.

"I do not," she lied. "But will devise a plan." Wishing she'd not shared her thoughts aloud, Elara moved on, asking additional questions, listening to their theories.

When the meal ended, Elara left Ashford's hall, watching Gareth and Evelina, which reminded her of Alden. He would not be coming to her that eve. She had told him about Ashford Manor at the end of the lesson, emphasizing, since he was with Darien, that she expected to be here much of the evening.

She'd gone many nights without speaking to him, without Alden's touch. Despite it, the ride back to Castle Blackwood was a particularly dreary one. When they entered the castle gates and it began to rain, Elara was not surprised. Even the heavens agreed with her and responded in kind.

By the time she made her way to her chamber, Elara was soaking wet. But no sooner did she close her chamber door than Elara heard a knock in the antechamber, behind the tapestry.

He'd come to her after all.