When at last Isabella was ready to go downstairs, all of her maids went with her, leaving Jocelin and Alyx alone with Elizabeth Chatworth.
“You did well,” Elizabeth said. “You have a magnificent voice, and unless I miss my guess you are well trained.”
“I have spent some time with a few teachers,” Alyx said modestly.
Elizabeth’s eyes fixed on Jocelin in a piercing gaze. “I have seen you before. Where?”
“I knew your sister-in-law, Alice,” he answered softly.
Elizabeth’s eyes turned hard. “Yes,” she said, with a brief, insolent look up and down Joss’s form. “You would be her type. Or perhaps any man with the proper equipment is pleasing to her.”
Jocelin had an expression on his face Alyx had never seen before. She wished he’d say no more. After all, it was Joss who’d killed Edmund Chatworth, Elizabeth’s brother.
“And how are your brothers?” Joss asked, and there was challenge in his voice.
For a long moment Elizabeth’s eyes bored into his, and Alyx held her breath, praying Elizabeth would not know who Joss was.
“My brother Brian has left my home,” she said quietly, “and we do not know where he is. There is rumor that he is held by one of the filthy Montgomerys.”
Jocelin’s hand clamped down on Alyx’s shoulder brutally. “And Roger?” he asked.
“Roger . . . has changed. Now!” she said smartly. “If we are through discussing my family, I am sure you are wanted below.” With that, she swept from the room.
“Filthy!” Alyx yelled before the door was closed. “Her brother kills my Raine’s sister and she dares call us filthy!”
“Alyx, calm yourself. You cannot take on a woman like Elizabeth Chatworth. She’d eat you alive. You don’t know what kind of brother she grew up around. Edmund was mean, vicious, and I’ve seen Elizabeth stand up to him at times when even Roger backed down. And she adores her brother Brian. If she thought the Montgomerys caused him to be taken from her home, she’d be full of hate.”
“But she has no right! It was the Chatworths’ fault.”
“Quiet! and let’s go downstairs.” He eyed her sharply. “And none of your tricks of writing songs about feuds. Do you understand me?”
She nodded once, but she didn’t like making such a promise.
* * *
It was late at night, and most of the guests were lying drunken on the floor or sprawled across the tables when a servant whispered to the man sitting in the corner. With a smile, the man rose and went outside to greet these newly arrived guests.
“You’ll never believe who is here,” the man said to the one dismounting.
“What! no greeting?” he asked sarcastically. “No concern for my safety? Come, John, you’re letting your teeth show.”
“I have remained sober to tell you this. That should be enough.”
“True, that is a great sacrifice.” He gave the reins of his horse to a waiting servant. “Now, what is so important that it can’t wait until I’ve had some wine myself?”
“Ah, Pagnell, you’re too impatient. Remember that little songbird this winter? The one who knocked you over the head?”
Pagnell stiffened, glaring at John. It was all he could do to keep from fingering the ugly scar on his forehead. He’d had headaches ever since that night, and although he’d tortured to death some of the people from her town, no one would tell him where she was. Every time a pain shot through his head, he vowed he’d see her burn for what she’d done to him. “Where is she?”
John laughed deep in his throat. “Inside and swelled out with a brat. She’s traveling with a pretty lad and the two of them are singin’ as pretty as you please.”
“Now? I thought everyone would be asleep.”
“They are, but I marked where the lad and the songbird stretched out.”
Pagnell stood still for a moment, contemplating his next move. When he and his friends had gone over the town wall looking for Alyx, he’d been drunk and so had bungled the job. Now he mustn’t make that mistake again.
“If she cried out,” Pagnell said, “would she receive help?”