Chapter Eighteen
Adam felt his spirits sink along with Esme’s. The lass had hoped to be rid of the knight before her brother awakened and heard her sorry tale.
But Adam knew that the truth was best laid out in the open, not hidden away in dark corners to be stumbled over at a later date. Mayhap Jonah’s arrival was a blessing?
Certainly, it might save him from running that base knight through with his sword. The temptation had been achingly strong. In truth, it coursed through him still, like warmed wine on an empty stomach.
Esme was white-lipped, but she held herself admirably still. She could face down a battle charge without flinching, that one.
“Pray, do not trouble yourself, Jonah. ’Tis a trifling matter and Adam has it well in hand.”
Damnation.
He deliberately folded his arms, clenching his hands so they could not reach for the hilt of his sword.
Jonah’s pale blue eyes flickered toward him. “Is that true, Adam? Do you have the situation under control?”
He grimaced, wondering how best to answer without contradicting Esme’s claim.
A few feet across from him, Crispin leaned his hips against the trestle table.
Adam was gratified that he had tied the man’s hands in such a way that made feeding himself impossible.
Otherwise, he had no doubt that Crispin would be helping himself to grapes right about now.
Jonah took a seat at the opposite end of the table and began spreading a hunk of bread with soft cheese. “Well?” he asked.
“I found this man attacking your sister, last night,” he said bluntly. “The situation is under control as you can see. His wrists are bound. He will not hurt her again. The question is, what shall we do with him now?”
He had told the truth.
Though he dared not look toward Esme to see what she made of it.
He expected some show of surprise from Jonah, but the young lord chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “I recognize you, I think?”
Crispin bowed his head. “Sir Crispin de Gough. I serve your father.”
Jonah clicked his fingers, a rare smile transforming his face. “That’s it.” He cut another piece of bread. “And how fares my father?”
A trace of discomposure showed on Crispin’s unshaven face. “Very well, milord.”
“You have seen him, recently?” Jonah’s gaze traveled over Crispin’s stained clothing, but he passed no further comment.
Adam’s pulse, which had started to pound when Jonah first claimed to recognize Crispin, began to steady.
He risked a glance toward Esme, who had mirrored his stance with her arms crossed across the demure bodice of her blue gown.
She felt his eyes upon him; he could tell by the way her body stiffened. But she did not meet his gaze.
“Not recently.” Crispin’s voice showed some strain.
“He has sent you on some campaign, I think?” Jonah smiled, encouragingly. “You have endured many nights of discomfort, is that not so?”
The knight smiled, relaxing a little. “Perchance, a little discomfort, aye. But I will endure much in the service of milord.”
Esme strode forward, placing her hands on the table and leaning angrily toward Crispin.
“You lie. You rode away from the service of my father after the last Wolvesley ball. Whatever you have been doing these last days, ’tis not in my father’s name.
” She gave her head a little shake. “I do not know why this surprises me. One more lie atop a dozen or more.”
Jonah pursed his lips and carefully placed his knife down beside his trencher. “And what is this about you attacking my sister?” His voice was soft, but his eyes were razor sharp.
“A misunderstanding,” Crispin countered quickly.
“Not so.” Esme tossed her hair. “He came at me in my chamber. If it were not for Adam’s intervention—” she stumbled to a halt. “Crispin all but started a fire.”
Crispin tutted. “I would have saved you the embarrassment of this, Esme.”
“She has naught to be embarrassed over.” Adam could stay quiet no longer.
Crispin continued as if he had not spoken. “But ’tis true that all will be known before long.” He shuffled his feet until he stood beside Esme. Adam fancied that he would have slung an arm about her shoulders, if he were able to. “Your sister has done me a great honor.”
“I have not,” Esme snapped.
Jonah held up a hand, a plea for peace. “Allow the man to speak.”
Esme’s face showed her shock. Adam too knew a prickling of fear. Would Jonah side with the knight, after all?
Crispin clearly thought so. He looked down at Esme with the gleam of victory in his eyes.
“She is already my wife, in every way that matters.” His voice was silky.
Esme darted away from him as if he had struck her. “’Tis not like that, Jonah.” She gripped her skirts and gazed at the floor as if seeking inspiration.
Adam hated to hear the distress in her tone, but he was helpless to assist her. Intervening now would be unseemly at best. He rubbed at his aching temples, hoping fervently that Jonah had just some of the integrity and intelligence he had credited him with.
Or was it to be a case of the earl’s son supporting the wealthy knight, even against the supplication of his own sister?
“Already your wife in every way that matters,” Jonah repeated, as if reciting some indecipherable rhyme. “Does that mean what I think it means, Esme?”
After a terrible pause, she nodded. Her head was low so he could not see what emotion shone in her eyes, but the air fairly shimmered with tension.
“She laid with me at Wolvesley,” Crispin put in. Perchance wanting it to be clear.
Adam stiffened and so, he fancied, did Jonah.
“I see.” Jonah’s gaze traveled to his sister. Eventually she too looked up and they locked eyes.
Two golden haired, blue-eyed de Nevilles. Could Esme count on her brother’s support?
Adam clenched the hilt of his sword, but only out of habit. He could not wield it against Jonah de Neville.
Jonah scratched at his faint growth of beard, his expression thoughtful. “It cannot be said that I am a worldly man.” He looked at Crispin, as if for confirmation.
Mayhap taken by surprise, the knight nodded.
“But I do believe that these things, occasionally, happen.” Jonah’s blue gaze now swung to Adam. “Is that not the case?”
What is happening here?
“I have heard tell of such things.” Adam forced out the words.
Jonah nodded. “Esme, do you wish to wed this man?”
She showed only momentary surprise, before casting a withering look at Crispin. “Most assuredly, I do not.”
“Then there is naught further to discuss.” Jonah opened his palms, as if dismissing them both.
Adam was half-frozen in place with shock, but he gathered his wits and walked purposefully forward. “Shall I escort him outside, milord?”
“I do not know if he should, after all, be flung into the cellar for a while. Any man who moves against Lady Esme de Neville should be punished, do you not think?”
Adam felt a smile pull at his lips. “Very wise, milord.”
But Crispin stood tall. “I would advise against that, de Neville. Unless you intend to keep me prisoner here for the rest of my days.”
Jonah also rose up from the table. He did not have Crispin’s height or bearing, but real anger showed in his finely-boned face. Adam recalled how Esme had lauded his swordsmanship, and fancied that it would not serve to underestimate the youngest de Neville son.
“Do not tempt me, sir,” he said.
“Nay, Jonah. We do not want a man like him poisoning the sweet surrounds of Ember Hall.” Esme held her head high. “You will leave us, Crispin. And never trouble us again.”
A pulse flickered at Crispin’s neck. Before Adam could restrain him, he slammed his bound fists onto the table, making the platters of food jump.
“That is the trouble with you people. You always think you have more power, more right than the rest of us. When will you start listening?” He shook his head, almost regretfully.
“You cannot win in this. Esme, you will be my wife. Jonah, you will be my brother.” His voice rose with mirth.
“The man is deluded.” Jonah wiped his fingers on a linen cloth, his face screwed up in distaste.
Adam knew not whether to bundle Crispin from the room or wait to see how the man might explain himself. It felt wrong to take charge of the situation, when the son of an English earl was also present.
I am but a servant, Adam reminded himself.
His feelings for Esme counted for naught. Forsooth, Jonah may well fling him into the cellar, should he discover them.
Watching the scene, Adam began to feel detached from it. He had never felt further apart from Esme, than when Jonah and Crispin faced one another.
Two sons of the English aristocracy.
Whereas he was the son of a farmer.
A Scots farmer, at that.
His muscles and training meant nothing. Without rank or wealth, he could not hope to save Esme from this situation. The realization caused a deadening of sensation within him.
“Explain yourself,” Jonah commanded.
Crispin’s eyes never left his face. “Your sister gave me her virtue and accepted my ring. We are, to all intents and purposes, already wed. Will the Earl of Wolvesley state this is not so?”
Jonah’s gaze flickered.
“The Earl of Wolvesley, your father, is the judiciary, is that not so?” Crispin smiled cruelly.
“The Earl of Wolvesley puts the happiness of his children above all else,” Jonah stated.
“Indeed. Does he put it higher than his family’s reputation?”
Jonah’s eyes glittered menacingly. “Are you threatening me, de Gough?”
“Finally.” Crispin widened his stance and threw back his shoulders. “The man realizes what is happening. Aye, Lord Jonah, I am indeed threatening you. If I do not get my way in this, every family in England will know how your sister laid back in the straw and spread her thighs for me.”
If Jonah had not leaped for him, Adam would have. Crispin’s coarse words had reawakened his senses, like a jug of cold water flung over his head. But the fury in the young lord’s face gave Adam pause to think.