Page 10
Story: Knights, Knaves, and Kilts
W hat have I done?
Delaina kept asking herself that question as the carriage bumped and lurched down the quiet London streets, heading for Haydon Square.
London was dark at this time of night, with an occasional light emitting from a window and voices now and again.
The world was quiet and the night was still, and thoughts of Magnus de Wolfe wouldn’t leave her.
If her affairs were none of his business, then why did she feel as if she’d just done something terribly wrong?
As if she’d just chased away someone who was, perhaps, legitimately honorable?
That was rare in her world. Honorable men were mostly a myth as far as she was concerned, though she knew some existed.
Somewhere, they did. Perhaps she’d had one in front of her all along and failed to notice the air of nobility all around him.
Perhaps she’d mistaken it for royal arrogance and knightly ambition.
She knew that Magnus was from one of the finest families in England, a family with a long and respected history, but her natural defensiveness when it came to men had prevented her from accepting his generosity and the nature in which it was intended.
Try as she might to stave off regret, she couldn’t seem to. She was beginning to bask in it.
So she travelled back to Haydon Square in brooding silence, her thoughts lingering on Magnus when she should have been focusing on what lay ahead.
The moment she reached the Daventry town home, she would be compelled to report the death to Lord Daventry’s majordomo, and the man would send out the necessary notifications, which would include Jerome de Staverton.
God, how she even hated to think that name.
Delaina knew the moment that Jerome received the notification, he would come flying back to Haydon Square with the air of a conquering hero.
For a man who had spent the bulk of his adult life gambling and trying to squeeze money out of his father one way or the other, this would be a moment of triumph for him.
She did not want to be part of his spoils of war.
Therefore, she had to get out as soon as possible.
Given that she brought her wealth with her to any position, it was a complicated issue because her wealth was spread out.
Coinage and jewels were kept with her closely, but things like horses and properties, of course, were mostly in other areas.
Swan’s Landing was no longer hers with Daventry’s death, and she had kept her four fine horses there, but at the moment, she might have to sacrifice them simply to get away.
She couldn’t stay at Swan’s Landing because that would be the first place Jerome looked, so that lovely home and those beautiful horses would have to be let go.
But the coinage and jewels would come with her.
She was lingering on just how to pack her valuables when Haydon Square came into view.
It was an enormous, fortress-like home toward the Aldersgate of London’s wall.
It was situated on a corner, an intersection of two streets, and it stood out like the prow of a massive cog—big, square, and imposing.
The moment she laid eyes upon the brick structure, her heart began to race.
She had to plan what she needed to do and how quickly she needed to do it.
As far as finding lodgings for the night, Delaina wasn’t exactly aware of any because she hadn’t spent any time in the ones around London, but she was confident she could find some.
They would more than likely have space for her if she were to offer them a generous fee.
She could pack her possessions on her own, but she would have to see if she could pay a couple of Daventry’s men to help her transport her belongings.
However, she rejected that idea almost as quickly as she considered it because she was afraid if they knew where she had gone, Jerome would be told.
The last thing she wanted was for that bastard to know her whereabouts.
She could only take what she could carry.
The gatehouse of Haydon Square was a three-story monstrosity with living quarters over the gate itself.
As the party approached, there was a good deal of shouting, and she could hear the sentries calling to the men in the escort.
She heard the answers to their queries, including the news that Lord Daventry had been brought home as a corpse.
That caused the gates, massive iron and wood panels, to crank open at an alarmingly fast rate.
Now, the moment she had been dreading was upon her.
As the party entered the gates, the entry to the manse opened and people begin spilling out into the darkened ward.
This included the majordomo, a man born in Bremen whom Lord Daventry had hired long ago.
He was big and loud, and he spoke with a heavy accent, but he was quite efficient in running the household.
Delaina had no feeling toward the man one way or the other, however.
He had never been cruel to her, but he had never been warm, either.
Warmth simply wasn’t in his nature. However, he was extremely protective of Lord Daventry, and there had been some shouting matches between him and Daventry’s son from time to time, even in the short time she’d been with Lord Daventry.
Delaina could only imagine what kind of shouting matches were going to take place tonight once Jerome arrived.
Whatever they were, she wasn’t going to be here.
As her carriage lurched to a halt, she opened the door herself and climbed out before anybody could help her.
She was halfway across the bailey when Eustace von Vechta came toward her, a shocked expression upon his face.
Delaina could hardly look at the man, far more concerned with herself and her immediate future to spare him much time.
“What happened?” Von Vechta demanded in his heavy accent. “What happened to our lord?”
Delaina paused long enough to answer his question.
“We were at the feast and he excused himself to the privy,” she said steadily.
“He was found not long after, dead. You will make the arrangements to bury him, von Vechta, for I will not. It has been a troubling evening, and I must… retire.” She didn’t want to tell him more than that for fear he might try to prevent her from leaving.
She rushed past him, and he stood there a moment, dumbfounded, before turning to the carriage with the body on it. He rushed toward it, forgetting all about Delaina as she made herself scarce.
Lord Daventry had a suite of rooms toward the back of the manse, massive chambers that took up the entire rear of the home.
The windows overlooked a garden with a towering wall, but beyond the wall was more of the city.
Delaina had never been fond of the view, with walls and other homes and the smoke that would hang heavily in the morning when the breeze from the Thames was still.
She had a key to the door that opened the suite, the only person to have one other than Lord Daventry and von Vechta, but once she was inside, she threw the bolt and knew she was safe for the moment.
Not even the big Germanic majordomo could break through that bolt.
Rushing into her chamber, she went to work.
The white gossamer clothing began to come off, carefully laid upon the bed that was covered in embroidered silk linens.
Her chamber adjoined Lord Daventry’s larger chamber, with a connecting door that she could lock on her side.
Although she was the man’s courtesan and, by the accepted rules of the day, he could do as he wished with her—and when he wished—Lord Daventry didn’t insist that they share a bed.
Sometimes, he would ask her to climb into bed with him when the nights were cold and his blood wasn’t circulating, but even then she was no more than a glorified warming pan.
He’d never bedded her.
Not that he probably hadn’t thought about it.
Even Delaina knew that. But he’d never made demands of her, and as she passed the open door that led into his chamber, she paused a moment, regretting the death of the man.
This position had been such an easy one for her because of the lack of expectations.
The old man had simply wanted a companion.
But as she’d told Magnus, this was the last position she would ever have as a courtesan, a companion, or a concubine, because any debt her father had used her for those years ago had long been paid.
The man was dead, and she was no longer obligated to uphold any deal he’d ever made.
But time was of the essence. She couldn’t stand there and reflect on memories—Von Vechta was probably already preparing to send word to Jerome—so she rushed to her wardrobe and began to carefully remove only the things she had brought with her when she had come into Lord Daventry’s possession.
She pulled out two rather large satchels, opened them up, and hurriedly shoved items into them.
Shifts, robes, surcoats—everything she’d brought with her.
Unfortunately, she knew there wasn’t going to be enough room in the satchels for everything, because when she came to Daventry, she’d also brought four big trunks.
But she couldn’t worry about that. She certainly couldn’t send for them once she got settled, so she’d simply have to take what she could carry plus the box that contained her fortune.
It was heavy with coinage, but that couldn’t be helped.
Using a key she kept hidden in a wall niche under her bed, she opened the secret panel in the wardrobe and pulled forth the coin box. It went into one of the satchels, buried beneath her clothing.
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