12. Baron
BARON
Long past midnight, I was still wide awake, reading through reports by the light of a low-burning candle and trying very hard not to think about Laurel and what she and Leopold might be doing.
Unfortunately, the harder I tried not to think about it, the more determined my mind became to punish me with every possible image of Laurel smiling at him, leaning close to him, and letting him sweet talk his way into all sorts of things I would kill him for.
I had left the dance early because I couldn’t bear to watch them any longer, especially when Laurel had seemingly made a point of testing my limits, knowing perfectly well I had to pretend she meant nothing to me.
My own companion had seemed disappointed by the evening, but I didn’t care.
She could tell her friends that a tournament champion had given her a rose.
Wasn’t that what all she had wanted in the first place?
A sharp knock sounded at my door.
“Come in,” I called, wondering who would be coming to call at such a late hour.
The Duke of Austria entered first, his face flushed with outrage, and his disgusting son stumbled in behind him. “We need to report an attack!” the duke said.
I looked past the older Leopold to his son, and for the first time that night, my mood improved.
Leopold was a mess. His fine coat was rumpled, his hair had lost its perfect part, and blood stained the front of his shirt in dark, uneven patches.
Both of his eyes were beginning to swell, and his once perfectly-straight nose sat crooked in the middle of his face.
He kept one hand pressed beneath it, but blood still seeped around his fingers, and every breath came out wet and heavy.
I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands. I already had a very good idea what had happened, and all the thoughts that had been torturing me about Laurel seducing information out of Leopold vanished at once.
“Tell me about this attack,” I said.
The duke gestured his son forward. Leopold limped to the opposite side of my desk and glared at me with as much dignity as a drunken man with a broken nose could manage.
His words came out thick and blocked, as if half of them were trapped behind the swelling in his face.
“You know dat girl I was with when you came over to give de rose, and I thought it was for her? Isabella?”
“Yes, the tiny little redheaded servant girl,” I said, relishing the word tiny. “She sat beside you when I brought drinks over during the dance. I remember.”
Leopold’s glare deepened. “She attagged me.”
I leaned forward at once and arranged my face into an expression of grave concern.
“She attacked you? Well, we’ll have to deal with that immediately.
You’re one of our most esteemed guests here and you have my full apology.
We certainly cannot allow such a thing to go unpunished. Tell me exactly what she did.”
Leopold’s gaze slid toward his father, and for the first time, a hint of embarrassment worked its way through the outrage. “It doesn’t batter.”
“Oh, it does, it does,” I assured him, reaching for a piece of parchment and dipping my quill in ink.
“I need to write up a report before I discipline her. I only wish I hadn’t left the dance earlier.
If I’d stayed, I might’ve been able to deal with her promptly.
I’m so sorry I left you alone with her. I had no idea she was so dangerous. ”
Leopold shifted on his feet while I wrote the first line of the report in large, official strokes.
Offender: Isabella, young servant girl
I looked up again, keeping my face perfectly serious. “She didn’t look strong enough to overpower anyone, least of all a javelin champion like you. So tell me, how did she attack you?”
The duke gave Leopold a small push forward, clearly impatient for him to speak. The gesture made me think of a mother pushing a small child forward to say hello to a stranger.
“Well,” Leopold said slowly, “she hit be.”
“I can see that,” I said, and added another note beneath her name. “Go on. Did you strike her back?”
“No, I didn’t have tibe. She hit be about…about a hundred tibes and broke by nose.”
“How did such a small girl do all this to you?” I asked, making sure my concern remained visible. “Did she do it alone, or did she have accomplices? Weapons? Surely she must have had weapons.”
Leopold seized on that with drunken enthusiasm. “Yes. She had a…a club.”
“A club,” I repeated solemnly, and wrote beneath the first line.
Weapon: Club
I clicked my tongue in sympathy. “My deepest condolences, my lord. Any accomplices?”
“Um...” Leopold blinked several times, and his swollen eyes struggled to focus. I watched him carefully. His nose would never be straight again, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
He nodded abruptly. “Yes. Um, three. Three accomblices. They hit be too. Then Isabella stepped on by hand. I almost died.”
He delivered the last words with such dramatic misery that I had clamp my teeth down on my tongue to stop myself from laughing.
Leopold fumbled with his glove, yanking it off to reveal fingers that were already bruising and swollen.
Then he lifted the edge of his shirt to show another bruise spreading along his side.
I scribbled notes about his injuries, my eyebrows drawn together as though every detail added to the seriousness of the crime rather than to my private enjoyment.
“Well,” I said, “you’re certainly fortunate to be alive.”
The duke cleared his throat. “This is a grievous insult to my family.”
“Of course. She will be disciplined immediately,” I said, giving him the proper nod of respect before turning back to Leopold. “Anything else?”
“She disrespected be.”
“By hitting and kicking you, you mean? With the club, of course. And with the assistance of her”—I consulted my notes—“accomplices?”
“Three big accomblices,” Leopold said, wiping beneath his nose with the back of his sleeve so blood smeared across his cuff. “But it was more than dat. All I did was invite her to spend tibe with be, and she refused. I ab de future Duke of Austwia. I deserve bore respect dan dat.”
Several flecks of spit mingled with blood landed on my report.
I calmly wiped them from the parchment with the edge of another sheet. “Yes, I can see how troubling that must’ve been for you.”
“It was,” Leopold said, swaying slightly. “Bery troubling.”
“And where did this attack take place?” I asked.
“In de corridor outside de ballroom.”
“Ah.” I made another note. “So she asked you to follow her into the corridor?”
Leopold hesitated and his father shot him a sharp look at him.
“Well, not exactly,” Leopold said finally.
I lifted my eyebrows. “Not exactly? How do you mean?”
“She left, and I followed her.”
“I see.” I wrote that down. “And before she attacked you with this club, did she ask you to leave her alone? Or was she waiting behind a door in the hall, waiting to jump you with her three big accomplices?”
Leopold’s mouth opened, then closed again. His swollen nose whistled faintly as he breathed. “She might have said something first.”
“Might have,” I repeated, writing again. “And did she warn you before the attack?”
The duke’s face tightened. “Sheriff, I hardly see how this is relevant. My son is the victim here.”
“Of course, my lord,” I said smoothly. “I only want the report to be thorough. A man of your son’s importance deserves nothing less than a full and complete report.”
That seemed to satisfy him, though just barely. Leopold folded his arms, then winced and lowered them again. “She threatened be. Said she would break by fingers.”
“And then what?”
“She stepped on dem.”
“Did you try to place your hand where it didn’t belong?” I asked mildly.
Leopold’s face flushed dark red beneath the bruising.
The duke turned on him. “Leo.”
“I was seducing her,” Leopold said defensively. “She knew dat. She wanted me to seduce her.”
I set down my quill before I broke it or the temptation to stab out Leopold’s eyes with it overpowered me.
For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the soft hiss of the candle and Leopold’s congested breathing. I looked down at the report, then I folded the parchment in half.
“I’ll tend to it,” I said. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Please know that Isabella will be dealt with swiftly and severely.”
“Good,” Leopold said. “You were lucky to have a nice girl tonight. Bine was crazy.”
“Yes,” I said, unable to stop the faintest smile from touching my mouth. “So it would seem.”
The duke gave me a curt nod, then took his son by the arm and steered him toward the door.
Leopold limped after him, still muttering about servants, respect, and his ruined nose.
When the door closed behind them, I remained perfectly still until their footsteps faded down the hall.
Then I leaned back in my chair and looked at the folded report.
Laurel had broken his nose.
My smile spread despite every effort to stop it.
I ought to have been concerned. She had attacked the son of a duke, and if Leopold had understood even half of what had happened, he would have demanded punishment far worse than a written complaint.
This could become dangerous if his father pressed the matter, and I would need to navigate it carefully, particularly where the duke was the one holding King Richard.
But in a rush of pure selfishness, I let myself enjoy the moment. I had been forced to watch Leopold try to win Laurel over all evening and watch Laurel smile at a man I wanted to punch squarely in the nose, then swallow my anger along with that secret message that I could still taste.
Then Laurel had punched Leopold for me, and I loved her even more for it.
I unfolded the report again and read over my notes, my smile returning when I reached the line about the imaginary club and three large accomplices. Then, because I could not help myself, I laughed.