Page 56 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

T evin had told her not to go near the smithy shack, but Cantia wasn’t so sure that she was inclined to obey him.

After he had told her of Gillywiss’ appearance and the subsequent unveiling of a dying Louisa, Cantia had moved from the realm of disbelief and shock to one of complete astonishment.

She could hardly believe what she was hearing, torn between bewilderment and jealousy.

But that didn’t compare to what Tevin was feeling.

So she pushed aside her emotions to comfort Tevin, who seemed truly shaken and bordering on despondence.

It wasn’t so much for himself but for his daughter, and he and Cantia and Val had spent two solid hours attempting to determine how to tell the young woman that her mother, on her deathbed, had returned.

It was a touchy and understandably emotional subject, with Tevin feeling quite protective of his daughter, wanting to shield her from the woman who had hurt her so badly.

But he ultimately decided that he had to, in good conscience, tell her, and Tevin and Val went to Arabel’s room to inform her of Louisa’s arrival.

That was the last Cantia had seen of them.

As the afternoon waned into shades of purple dusk, Cantia stood at the window overlooking the north portion of Rochester’s bailey, her gaze on the smithy shacks all lined up against the outer wall.

She knew Louisa was in one of them and, unlike the rest of the family, had no previous emotional investment in the woman. She was deeply curious.

Rubbing her belly as the baby kicked, she turned away from the window and headed down the steep spiral stairs to see how the evening meal was progressing.

Clad in a rich, heavy brocade coat of emerald silk and a feather-soft shift the color of eggshells beneath it, she was warm and richly dressed, looking elegant and radiant, and every inch an earl’s wife.

Cantia passed the level that contained Arabel and Hunt’s chambers, pausing to peek into her son’s room.

Hunt was on the floor with the dog lying close by, playing with little toy soldiers made from sticks of wood.

The past several months had been an adjustment for him with both his father and grandfather gone, but he had adapted.

All Hunt knew of Charles’ absence was that his grandfather had gone on an extended journey and he had accepted the explanation as it had been carefully delivered by Tevin, but the truth was that he really wasn’t particularly lonely.

Now he had Arabel to play with and the two of them were very companionable.

Arabel wasn’t with him today, however, so he played alone.

When he caught sight of his mother, he jumped up and ran to her.

“Mam,” he grabbed her hand. “I am hungry. Isth it time to eat yet?”

She smiled at her little boy. “It is,” she said. “Would you like to come with me to the kitchens?”

He nodded eagerly, pulling her from the chamber but easing up by the time they hit the stairs.

He had been repeatedly reminded, and warned, of his mother’s pregnancy and was properly careful, at least as much as a five year old could be.

He ended up trying to help his mother down the last few steps, being a gentleman, but the moment she was off the stairs, he was yanking her from the keep.

Cantia fought off a grin as she allowed her eager son to tow her out into the yard.

She found herself looking about, trying to catch a glimpse of Tevin or Val or even Myles, but everyone seemed to have vanished.

Not particularly concerned, she returned her attention to Hunt only to catch a glimpse of the smithy shacks off to her right.

They lingered in a cluster, run down, and somewhat foreboding.

There was darkness there. Her curiosity had the better of her and she let go of Hunt’s hand.

“Go into the kitchen and tell Cook that you would like some bread,” she instructed. “Tell her I will be there in a moment.”

Hunt cocked his head curiously. “Where are you going?”

Cantia answered indirectly. “I will be there shortly. Go, now. Do as I say.”

Hunt watched his mother head off towards a collection of seldom used stalls, but that was as far as his curiosity went. His rumbling belly had him turning for the kitchen and the alluring smell of fresh baked bread.

Cantia approached the shelters, her pace slowing.

She grew more wary with each passing step, glancing around to make sure Tevin wasn’t somewhere nearby.

She knew he would become angry at her for disobeying him, but she felt an inexplicable pull to see the woman he had married.

She understood clearly that the woman was dying and, in a small way, perhaps Cantia wanted to see for herself.

She wanted to see this woman who had birthed Arabel and then had abandoned her family.

Beyond that, she really wasn’t sure why she wanted to see her, only that she did.

Something strong and unseen was pulling her in that direction.

Two of the shacks were empty but she could hear movement in the third.

Cantia paused, listening to the low hum of conversation, wondering if she should come back another time.

As lady of Rochester, however, she had every right to know who was within her castle, or at least she told herself that.

She had every right to be here. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the rickety old door.

The old physic was inside along with a serving woman from the kitchens. Cantia recognized her. Both of them turned to look at the lady of Rochester standing regally in the door opening.

“My lady,” the physic greeted. “What are you doing here? You should not be jeopardizing the child so in the same room as a sick woman.”

Cantia’s eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness as she stepped into the doorway, her gaze moving across the dim chamber until she came to rest on a lumpy jumble in the corner. It smelled old and dank, mingling with the sharp scent of vinegar.

“I heard about this woman and came to see her,” she said, wondering how much the physic knew about the identity of his patient. “Is she really dying?”

The physic glanced over his shoulder at the body in the corner. “She is,” he replied. “A few days at most, maybe hours.”

“Has she awakened? I was told she was unconscious.”

The physic nodded. “She awakened a short time ago and we were able to feed her some broth,” he replied, returning his attention to Cantia. “Does the earl know you are here? I cannot imagine he would let you come here and risk your health.”

Cantia tore her gaze off the supine bundle, her eyes flashing as she looked at the physic.

“You will mind your own business,” she snapped. “If you tell him I was here, I will make sure you are thrown out on your ear.”

The physic lifted a hand in supplication and returned his attention to whatever he had been doing when she had entered the hut.

Cantia, however, was unforgiving. She didn’t want an audience for what she was about to do.

She didn’t want anyone witnessing what was likely to be a very emotional moment, gossip fodder to be spread throughout Rochester.

“Get out,” she commanded. “Get out this instant.”

The physic set his implements down and, without question, vacated the shack. The serving wench quickly followed. When the door swung shut behind them, Cantia returned her attention to the woman in the corner.

What am I doing here? The thought kept rolling around in Cantia’s head as she approached the bed.

She still didn’t really know. As sunlight streamed in between the gaps in the walls, filtering in through the musty shadows, she came to a halt next to the straw mattress, gazing down at the partially-covered face.

The woman was breathing heavily. She could hear it.

A wet cloth covered her nose and mouth, and Cantia reached down, gingerly took a corner, and pulled it off.

The features of the woman were fair, if not somewhat plain, but she could see Arabel in the shape of the face.

There was also a big dimple in the woman’s chin, just like her daughter.

Aye, the more Cantia stared, the more she could see the resemblance. Her heart began to pound.

“Louisa?” she whispered, paused, then whispered loudly. “Lady Louisa? Can you hear me?”

The woman twitched, drawing in a deep breath that brought rowels from her chest. Cantia stood back somewhat, not wanting to get too close, but she made sure she was close enough that the woman could see her. She tried again.

“Lady Louisa,” she said in a normal speaking tone. “Can you hear me? Please awaken.”

The woman twitched again. It took two more tries from Cantia to rouse the woman until, finally, the eyelids lifted. The eyes were only slightly open, however, and Cantia bent down so she could meet the woman’s muddled gaze. Dark eyes finally fixed on her.

“Lady Louisa?” she said, more gently. “Are you Lady Louisa?”

The woman just stared at her. Then, she shifted slightly, trying to lift her head when she realized a very beautiful pregnant woman in fine garments was speaking to her.

But she was so very, very weak, her life all but drained from her by the disease that was swiftly consuming her.

All she could do was lay upon the straw and gaze, weakly, at the very fine lady.

“Qui vous est?” she rasped.

Who are you? Cantia replied to her in French. “My name is the Lady Cantia Penden,” she replied. “I am the Lady of Rochester Castle, and you have been brought to us. Are you Louisa of Hesse?”

The woman continued to stare at her. Cantia waited, with bated breath, for a response, but none was immediately forthcoming.

It was evident that the woman was too weak to carry on a conversation.

Finally, the dark eyes closed. Cantia waited a nominal amount of time before realizing she might not receive an answer.

As she debated on whether or not to leave, the woman spoke.