“You look like one,” her maid snapped back.
Finn ignored them both. “So, my lady, may I ask what prompted your change o’ mind? Didn’t like the looks of him, after all?”
“As a matter of fact, I know him. That was Lord Gilbert de Fairbourne, who once came courting my sister. I’m quite sure he would have helped us if I’d chosen to ask.”
Finn cocked a brow and waited expectantly.
“He’s on his way to Lord Wimarc’s castle.”
That removed the contempt from Finn’s features. “What for?”
She lifted her chin with haughty disdain as she swept past him. “I didn’t inquire.”
As he hurried after her, Finn cursed himself for a fool. He’d been as peeved as a child who loses a friend when she’d told him what she was planning, silently condemning her for an ungrateful wench when he’d given up time and trouble to help her. God save him, he’d even been tempted to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and carry her into the woods.
Because unlike the lady, and even though she had the bearing, speech and manner of a noblewoman, he couldn’t believe anybody would simply take her word that she was Lady Elizabeth of Averette. They’d more likely think her a peasant who was trying to trick them, or perhaps a courtesan who’d fallen on hard times. Either way, they would treat her with disdain and disrespect.
Or worse. Once, when he was ten years old, he’d seen what soldiers might do to a peasant woman alone and unprotected on the road. A pack of wolves would be more merciful.
So in spite of knowing what a brave, spirited woman she was and that she could probably hold her own with any nobleman and get the respect and aid she deserved, he’d hidden and watched, ready to rush out to her defense again if necessary. He simply couldn’t abandon her to her fate, any more than he could leave Ryder to die in a dungeon.
And even if that made him a fool. “My lady, you’re going the wrong way!”
She halted and turned abruptly. Without a word, she marched past him, going back the way she’d come.
He hurried after her, leaving Garreth and the girl to follow. “So this Gilbert was going to Castle de Werre?” he asked, hoping to achieve some kind of truce.
“That’s what he said.”
“What sort of fellow is he?”
“Greedy. Arrogant. Like most men.”
“Then he might be allied with Wimarc if the man’s up to no good.”
“Perhaps. He’s ambitious, too.” She cut her eyes to Finn. “Gilbert came to Averette to court Adelaide—or Gillian, if Adelaide refused him, or me, if they didn’t want him, which they didn’t. He had the audacity to kiss me, too.”
She hadn’t enjoyed it, obviously. He was fairly certain he could kiss her in a way that would make her remember it with something other than contempt.
“He’s a pompous, arrogant fool,” she continued, yanking Finn back to the here and now. “I can believe he would turn traitor if he felt slighted or exploited. Perhaps Adelaide and Gillian were right to worry that John’s the sort of king who forces men to rebel because of his greed and lust.”
Finn had seen and heard enough at court to know how deep the hatred of John ran among the nobles. “Lots o’ the barons hate him. He’s not just taxed them for his wars, they’ve lost sons in his quest to get back his lands in France and he’s seduced their wives and daughters, too.”
“He may be a terrible man, but he is the king,” she replied, “and rebellion will only lead to more death and destruction.”
“You’ll get no argument from me there, my lady,” he said. “It’s always the poor who suffer most when the nobles go to war.”
Lady Elizabeth suddenly came to a dead halt and turned to him with the fire of resolve in her lovely eyes. “I’m not going to that convent. I’m going to help you get into Lord Wimarc’s castle.”
She couldn’t be serious—or else she didn’t appreciate the danger there.
“No, you’re not,” he replied with equal conviction, while her maid turned as white as washed fleece and Garreth’s mouth fell open. “I’m not going to let—”
“I’m not asking your permission,” the lady interrupted. “To protect my family and prevent war, I’ve got to find out what Wimarc’s up to. I’ll need some proof of his plans, too. He must have powerful allies if he thinks he can overthrow the king, so my word may not be enough to convict him or even have him arrested.”
She fixed Finn with her steadfast gaze. “You need to get into Wimarc’s castle to rescue your brother. Together, we can do both.”
He felt a surge of hope, until reality intruded. “Just like that, eh, my lady? We’ll just walk up to the gates and ask to be allowed to pass? You’ll demand to know what Wimarc’s planning, and I’ll go to the dungeon and order my brother freed. Then we’ll all saunter out the gates as easy as you please.”
Lizette drew herself up, not the least dissuaded by his mockery. “We won’t walk up to the gates. We’ll ride—if you can steal some horses. I hardly think Lord Gilbert and his wife would arrive on foot.”
As Finn stared at her, she continued, clearly growing more enamored of her harebrained notion. “Gilbert’s wife said they haven’t actually met Wimarc, so he doesn’t know what they look like. I know enough about Gilbert and Helewyse that we should be able to fool him.”
“It’s still daft and far too dangerous,” Finn declared. “Even if we could fool Wimarc, what about Gilbert’s escort? They’ll likely notice the difference.”
“Aye,” Garreth reluctantly agreed. “If it was just you and Finn—”
“Oh, my lady, you mustn’t! You’ll be killed!” Keldra wailed.
“You’ve no better plan, have you?” the lady countered, ignoring both Garreth and her maid. “As for their escort.”
She fell silent and as she puzzled over that problem and her plan, Finn was sure she would reconsider—until her eyes lit up like a torch bursting to life in the dark.
“You and Garreth can pretend to be a new escort sent from Wimarc. Tell Gilbert Wimarc doesn’t like any soldiers but his own on his estate. He should send his men home.”
“As if Gilbert would believe that!”
“If he’s on Wimarc’s land, why would he need his own soldiers? And we could say that Wimarc’s a suspicious fellow who doesn’t like unknown soldiers in his fortress. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
Finn blinked, amazed at the rapidity with which her mind worked, and the way she dealt with his rational objections … a way that just might be viable.
A nobleman and his wife. Without an escort … They could claim they’d been set upon by thieves and their escort … fled. The louts. He’d deal with them when he got home!
“If you aren’t willing to take the chance,” she said, interrupting his ruminations, her expression fiercely determined, “I shall find a way inside that castle by myself. No doubt Wimarc would welcome a pretty serving wench.”
“Aye, he would,” Finn retorted, horrified by that suggestion. “And when he’s done with you, he’ll pass you around to his men.”
Her gaze faltered for a moment, but then that stubborn, determined gleam returned to her