"Why would you worry about that?"
"I suppose I was being foolish. But I feared that Luke might have second thoughts about the wisdom of marrying me. It is not the most prudent of matches, after all. I am older than he is, my liaison with Gervase was known throughout Winchester, and I may not be the most fertile of wives. I have gotten with child only twice, and both times I miscarried of the babe. How could I blame Luke if he had qualms about the marriage?"
"Wisdom has naught to do with it. The man is besotted with you. He told me so last night."
"Did he… truly?" This time her smile was blinding. "He can be sparing with the words… except in bed, of course," she added, with a low laugh. "But what you men say in bed is not always gospel, is it?"
Justin laughed, too. "You do not really expect me to answer that?"
She shook her head, still laughing, and Justin found himself hoping that Luke did indeed mean to marry her. He'd sounded sincere, but Justin knew there were men who hunted for the thrill of the chase, losing interest once their quarry was brought to bay. For Aldith's sake, he hoped that Luke was not one of them.
Aldith's moods were as changeable as those blue-green eyes of hers. No longer playful, she was regarding Justin pensively. "Do you truly think that one of Gervase's own family plotted his death?"
Justin was not surprised that Luke had confided in Aldith. From what he'd seen of the deputy in action, Luke followed his instincts, caring little if rules were broken in the process. "I think someone did, but I cannot say if it was a family member, not yet. You probably know them better than I do, Mistress Aldith. If you had to choose, who would seem most likely to you?"
"I cannot say that I know them well. Mainly, I saw them through Gervase's eyes. If I had to pick, though, I'd say Thomas."
"Interesting. Edwin is convinced that Jonet and Miles are the culprits."
"What say you, Justin? Who do you suspect?"
"Guy." Justin smiled, without humor. "I might as well flip a coin. It is all conjecture and suspicion, cobwebs and smoke. Unless I can prove — "
He stopped so abruptly that Aldith looked at him in surprise. He was staring over her shoulder, so intently that she turned to look, too. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she started to ask, "Is something wrong?" But by then Justin was gone.
Justin shoved his way through the crowd, heedless of the complaints and curses trailing in his wake. His quarry had darted around the peddler's cart. Hearing the footsteps behind him, he ducked into an alley and turned his back, like a man seeking a place to relieve himself. Justin followed, grabbed his shoulder, and swung him around.
Durand showed an aplomb that was glazed in ice; he didn't even blink. "What do you want?" His lip curled. "If you're begging, I have nothing to spare. A man able bodied ought to work for his bread or do without. And if you've robbery in mind, you'd best be ready to die unshriven."
"My mistake," Justin said, stepping aside. With the most disagreeable smile he had ever seen, Durand brushed past him. Justin waited until he'd reached the alley entrance. "My mistake," he repeated, with a disdainful smile of his own. "I confused you with a blustering knave called Durand."
The other man's sangfroid was capable of being shaken, after all, at least briefly, for the look he gave Justin was murderous. After he'd gone, Justin slowly unclenched his fist from the hilt of his sword. He'd acted on impulse and was beginning to regret it. Durand had been spying on him, but why? He could think of only one person who'd have put the knight on his trail. It was that troubling realization which had fueled his anger; he'd turned on Durand the fury he could not let loose upon the queen's son.
He'd not deny the confrontation had given him some satisfaction. For a few moments, he'd not felt like a pawn, a cat's-paw in a conspiracy of kings. Now, though, he wondered if he'd been too rash. Was it ever wise to challenge John outright? Starting back toward High Street, he felt as if he'd blundered into a labyrinth, murky and serpentine, for that was how he envisioned the workings of John's brain. What was Durand's mission? Could it be more sinister than mere spying? And what would John do now that his man had been found out? But was Durand likely to tell John that he'd been outwitted?
The peddler was no longer selling his wares. Instead, he was embroiled in a shouting match with an angry youth, surrounded by an interested audience. Aldith was standing on the edge of the crowd and moved quickly to intercept Justin as he drew near. "What happened? Where in the world did you go?"
"I thought I saw someone I knew." To head off further questions, Justin pointed toward the men. "What is that all about… a disgruntled customer?"
"No, a rival. The lad is from the apothecary shop across the way and wants the peddler to move on ere they lose all their customers."
Justin had no interest in a territorial dispute between merchants. "May I escort you home, Mistress Aldith?" he offered. "It is the least I can do after dashing off with nary a word to you."
She smiled and let him take her arm. He suspected that she'd be flirting with the priest on her deathbed; in that, she reminded him of the dark-eyed Claudine. They were threading their way through the crowd when people began to move aside in haste. Pointing toward the approaching horsemen, the apothecary's apprentice cried out triumphantly, "We sent to the castle to fetch the under-sheriff. You'll be on your way soon enough now, old man, with your tail tucked between your legs!"
The peddler spat an obscenity, then elbowed the youth aside so he could be the first to tell his side to the sheriff's deputy. Luke was mounted on a sorrel stallion. Reining in, he signaled a halt to his flanking serjeants, his eyes taking in the scene, lingering longest upon Justin and Aldith, standing together in the street.
Dismounting, Luke was assailed by competing voices, all eager to enlighten him about the cause of this public disturbance. The noise did not abate until he shouted for silence. It did not take him long to resolve the dispute, finding in the apothecary's favor. The peddler was resentful, but shrewd enough to realize this was a fight he could not win, and he agreed to move on. Luke wasted no further time on them, striding over to Aldith and Justin.
He greeted Aldith by pressing a quick kiss into her palm. It was a simple act, but done in public, it took on symbolic significance, and Aldith glowed. When he suggested that she buy him some candied quince before the peddler packed up, she tactfully pretended to believe he had a sudden craving for sweets. Luke then jerked his head away from the peddler's customers and Justin followed.
"Well?" the deputy demanded. "What happened at the goldsmithy? Did they buzz about when you jabbed your stick into their hive?"
"They took it badly, which was to be expected. Were they all as innocent as God's own angels, they'd still be dismayed by the news I brought. By the time I was done speaking, they'd gone from bereaved to suspect. Even Miles saw that quick enough. But Guy seemed well and truly stricken. When I said we'd be digging into Gervase's past, he turned the color of curdled milk and fled to the closest alehouse."
"Did he now? Men who try to drink away their troubles can drown in them, too. And when they start flailing about, they give up the truth more often than not. I think I'll pay a visit to Master Guy this noon."
Justin nodded approvingly. "How goes the hunt for Gilbert the Fleming? Have you had any luck yet?"
"I might have a lead later this afternoon. But I can deal with only one crime at a time. Murder or poaching — which shall it be, de Quincy?"