“I need a bath.”
Emeline shook her head. It was not what she had expected him to say. “We can’t allow any servants in here to set up the tub. Nor carry buckets up all this way to the attic.”
“I might smuggle you down the back stairs, empty all our relatives out from the ladies’ bedchamber, get the tub set up in there, and settle to a long hot frolic.”
“So you don’t mean you need a bath. You mean I need one.”
He laughed. “I imagine we both do. I’ve had only one bath since spending two weeks in the saddle, or on flea ridden pallets in lice ridden taverns. You’ve been playing saint in a village rife with contagion. I’d say that points to a good delousing and a hot soak as imperative.”
“So really, you just want something to do while you wait for Adrian. You find sitting around doing nothing as difficult as a small child forced to stay indoors.”
Nicholas laughed again. “Yes, if I choose to blame Adrian. Which I might as well. The wretched man is late. I expected him this morning. Now it’s well nigh evening.”
“What hour does the sun set in late May?”
“The sun sets late. The moon rises early. And I shall make love to my wife, since she is not sick, nor even tired, having done almost nothing all day.”
Emeline was tired, though the headache which had earlier troubled her, had passed. She rested against him, her arm around his waist. “It’s fresh air I need, and to walk in the sunshine.” She was still in his arms when they heard the horses on the cobbles outside, the call for the ostlers, the neighing of horses and the squeak of saddles as men dismounted.
Nicholas looked up, eyes bright. Emeline groaned. He traced very slowly down her cheek with the ball of his thumb, following the gentle swell of her smile, slipping his fingers around beneath her ear to the back of her neck, caressing where the long thick hair curled and fell across her shoulders. Then he bent and kissed her, eyes open, breath warm. “Shall I go?” he whispered. “Or stay, and show my wife that I love her?”
The bed curtains, a limp flutter of dyed linen, swung back as Emeline sat up, wedging herself on one elbow. “Love me? If you stay, you’ll be thinking of Adrian, proving you love adventure more.”
Jerrid had also heard the late arrival. Nicholas, part dressed and dishevelled from bed, stood beside his uncle. The clattering faded as the horses were taken into the stables, their saddles thrown off, their bridles unbuckled, and finally led to water, oats and hay. Adrian’s five henchmen, stocky and thickset, followed the horses. Adrian strolled across the cobbles to the sudden torchlight in the hostelry doorway where Jerrid and Nicholas lounged, watching his approach. He was surprised. “You, cousin? And my uncle, not seen for months. And all here at such a time? I settled my sister and your lady here some days back, Nicholas, but didn’t expect to see you here as well.”
“Presumably not. I arrived shortly after you left.” Nicholas smiled. “And quickly discovered I’ve an urgent desire to see you. Not reciprocated, no doubt. No matter. You must be tired. Come and have some wine.”
“You’re lucky not to find my brother waiting for you too, m’boy,” Jerrid added. “For Symond’s here as well. And Lady Wrotham. Together with your sister, and my sister Lizzie, ’tis a cosy family reunion, which lacked only your good self. And now complete.”
Adrian frowned. “Something’s wrong? Another death? Why such a gathering, and way out here, so far from Westminster?”
They wandered into the parlour where supper had been served earlier. A sleepy eyed scullion poked his head around the door. “My lords? We’re closed for service, for most is already in their beds. It’s late, my lords.”
“Then bring us a couple of jugs of wine, boy,” Jerrid said. “Then go back to bed and we’ll serve ourselves.”
Adrian said, “I’m ready for bed myself, sir. Too many hours in the saddle, and it’s two hours I’ve been dreaming of a chance to sleep undisturbed.”
Nicholas sat on the long bench, leaned back against the wall behind, swung one leg to the table, and continued to smile. But his eyes, heavy lidded, remained cold. “If we entertain you sufficiently, cousin, perhaps you’ll stay awake long enough to entertain us in return. We’ve been waiting for you, you see. Avid anticipation, indeed. You should feel thoroughly flattered.”
“Nonsense, Nicholas.” Adrian sat, frowning at his cousin. “Such florid and pointless chatter. If you simply mean you wish to thank me for saving your lady three – no four days gone – then naturally I accept your gratitude. But there’s no need for this display. I did only what anyone else would have done in such a situation.”
Nicholas nodded placidly. “Anyone except myself, I presume,” he said, “since I would have been far too busy trying to save myself.”
“Even you would have stepped in to help, Nicholas.”
“No need for gratitude then. How convenient. Especially since,” Nicholas added, “were thanks obligatory, I should be in debt to your two friends, who have not returned with you, I see. How, I wonder, do I extend my gratitude to them?”
A slow suspicion glimmered in the back of Adrian’s light blue eyes. He smiled quickly. “Ah yes, but no matter. They took ship for Flanders three days back, and I’ve no idea when I’ll see them again. But they were – pleased to help at the time.”
“Especially, perhaps, the genial Christopher Urswick?” suggested Jerrid.
The pause was barely noticeable. “Who?” Adrian shook his head. “You have the name wrong, uncle. Christopher Browne, and Francis Prophet were my friends. Traders I’ve done business with before, trying to make a little money since I have no lands of my own. I imagine my sister, or one of the other ladies, has mistaken the name.”
Nicholas smiled more widely. “Trade. How – interesting, Adrian. Tell me, trading in what, exactly?”
The wine was brought, three cups and two flagons. Then the boy scuttled off and Jerrid poured the wine. “No shame in a little trade on the side,” he said, passing the cup. “We all welcome some additional funds on the side. So what trade is it, Adrian lad? Wool, perhaps? Copper?” He drank deeply, then looked up, his mouth stained Burgundy. “Or,” he smiled, “perhaps information?”
Adrian drank, taking time. “You’re insinuating something, uncle, though I cannot imagine why. And you too, Nicholas. But I’ve no idea what, and I’m tired. The trade is dyed woollen cloth, and fairly lucrative as you must know. But I’ve no intention of discussing my finances with you, both of you as rich as Solomon without the wisdom. So I thank you for the wine,” he drained his cup, and stood slowly, “but I’m in need of my bed.”
“Well, you’ll find my father in it,” grinned Nicholas. “When he turned up here, there was limited space, so it’s one chamber for the ladies, and one for the Chatwyn men. I’m up in the attic for reasons of my own. So go snuggle up with whomever you wish, cousin, but careful how you stretch your elbows,”
“I need sleep,” Adrian shrugged, “and have no objections to sharing a bed.” He placed his cup back on the table and turned towards the doorway.
“We’re all tired, I think.” Jerrid stood, wandering over to door, which was closed. He leaned against the jam, benign and casual, as though simply discovering a place of comfort. “But just a few words first, I think, before we all find out beds again.”
“Since you’re blocking the way, uncle, I presume those words are important?”
Nicholas swung his leg back to the floor tiles and sat forwards. The long bench creaked. “Important? Perhaps, cousin. You see, I know exactly who Christopher Urswick is, and exactly why he was here. When I asked about your companions, I hoped you’d convince me of an old friendship, or some coincidental and innocent encounter. Instead you denied him. Unwise, Adrian.”