A Knight to Remember Read Free Page B

tone that made her want to pound him senseless. “You always were spirited.”
    “I am not your Edlyn.” Then to Wharton, “And I am not in the habit of betraying anyone who comes to me for succor or sanctuary.” With a final glare at both the speechless servant and his amused master, she turned on her heel and stalked to the closed door.
    She swung it open on its leather hinges and stepped into the garden just as Lady Blanche and her toady of a servant approached the door.
    “Lady Edlyn! Lady Edlyn!” Lady Blanche’ssqueaky voice matched her diminutive height. “We need some syrup of poppies at once. We have a noble lord in pain.”
    Once, long ago when Edlyn had been the greatest lady in the neighborhood and the patroness of Eastbury Abbey, Lady Blanche’s rosy apple cheeks and bow-mouthed smile had pleased her. She had thought Lady Blanche to be a dear, sweet nun dedicated to the fulfillment of her holy vows.
    She knew better now. “Do you speak of Baron Sadynton?”
    Lady Blanche stopped in the path. Adda halted behind her. Their identical glares made Edlyn aware, once again, of their shared heritage. “Are you questioning my judgment?” Lady Blanche demanded.
    “Never.” Edlyn lied smoothly. “Nevertheless, the noble lord will have to suffer, I fear.” She pulled the door shut behind her. “As I told you yester morn, we have used all our syrup of poppies.”
    “Tut, tut, my dear.” Lady Blanche trotted forward, pressing too close to Edlyn for comfort. “We know you keep a reserve for emergencies, and this is an emergency.”
    “But I am glad you and your servant came by.” Edlyn nodded at the woman who stood behind Lady Blanche. “I need someone to carry firewood for me.”
    If anything could have chased Lady Blanche from the premises, it should have been this threat. Adda devoted her life to creating comfort for Lady Blanche, and Lady Blanche insisted Adda reserve her strength for just that purpose.
    To Edlyn’s surprise and dismay, Lady Blanche only nodded genially. “Help Lady Edlyn, Adda.”
    Adda’s glare might have shriveled a lesser woman, but Edlyn had more to worry about than a simple scowl.
    Like a wounded man stretched out on the floor of the dispensary.
    Like a knife-happy Wharton.
    Like the scandal Lady Blanche longed to perpetuate in Edlyn’s name.
    “Let me show you the wood I require,” Edlyn said, stalling for time.
    “Wood is wood.” Lady Blanche took Edlyn’s arm and tried to lead her toward the dispensary while Adda walked with dragging feet toward the woodpile.
    Edlyn had frequently mourned her lack of height, but she was taller than Lady Blanche and she dug in her heels now. “Wood is not just wood,” she answered. “Not to me. Oak burns slow and sure. Pine burns quick and hot. Walnut burns—”
    “I know,” Lady Blanche said sharply. “What has that to do with anything?”
    “An herbalist must prepare her tonics at just the right temperature.”
    “Please, Lady Edlyn, don’t pretend with me.” Lady Blanche’s mouth formed a deprecating moue. “We both know you’re not an herbalist. You’re only a dispossessed noblewoman living on the abbey’s charity.”
    Edlyn’s fury, already stirred by Wharton, easily ignited again. “I endowed this abbey.”
    Lady Blanche began to tremble like an ash leaf in the wind of indignation. “A fine endowment that requires such a payback. You bring the taint of your treason here to stain our reputation. If I were abbess here—”
    “Lady Corliss is abbess here, and long may she endure.” Edlyn’s devout prayer came from the heart. Never had Lady Corliss uttered a reproach when Edlyn had fallen from patroness to supplicant. She had been the vessel that had carried Edlyn through the turbulent seas of despair, and Edlyn worshiped the abbess.
    As did Lady Blanche. Her pursed lips softened as she echoed, “Long may she endure.” Then her small eyes, pressed like raisins into the dumplings of her cheeks, sharpened.