Unveiling Lady Clare. Carol Townend

will depend on Count Henry, ma dame. Rest assured, I shall inform him of Clare’s disappearance. I shall also inform Lord d’Aveyron.’

      Nicola’s head came up in a way that reminded Arthur of her son. ‘Thank you, sir, but there’s no need to speak to Lord d’Aveyron.’

      Clare had mentioned that Nicola was unaware of the trouble Geoffrey had embroiled himself in before his death. Was it wise to leave her in ignorance? If, as he suspected, Clare had been bullied out of Troyes by a gang of outlaws—might they take their revenge out on Nicola and the child? He must speak with Count Henry again.

      In the meantime, he didn’t want to worry Nicola more than was necessary. He smiled. ‘Ma dame, in my judgement Count Lucien would wish to know that Clare has left Troyes. He was Geoffrey’s liege lord and he has your welfare at heart. I will also send a manservant from the castle to assist you. Good day.’

      Nicola looked at him before sinking back into her pillows—the exchange had exhausted her. ‘Thank you, Sir Arthur. Good day.’

      * * *

      Back at Troyes Castle, Count Henry admitted him at once. During Arthur’s absence, the parchments and scrolls seemed to have trebled in number.

      ‘Well?’ Count Henry demanded, setting his quill aside and flexing inky fingers. He looked past Arthur and scowled at the empty doorway. ‘Where is she?’

      ‘Mon seigneur, I am afraid I missed her, she has left Troyes.’ Arthur delved in his pouch for the letter. ‘This was waiting for me at the gatehouse.’

      Count Henry skimmed the message before handing it back. ‘Pity. I wonder where she went. Any ideas?’

      ‘No, my lord. I have spoken to the woman she shares lodgings with, but she wasn’t able to help.’

      ‘I take it she—?’

      ‘Her name is Clare.’

      Count Henry’s gaze sharpened. ‘Clare. I assume Clare is ignorant of the identity of her possible sire?’

      ‘I believe she is, my lord.’

      Count Henry looked thoughtfully at the solar window, before waving Arthur to the stool. ‘Sit, man, for heaven’s sake. Do you really believe this woman could be Myrrdin’s daughter?’

      ‘My lord, I’d be uneasy swearing to it. All I can say is that only once have I seen eyes like that and they belonged to Count Myrrdin de Fontaine. I’d like your permission to find her and bring her back to Troyes. She cannot be safe wandering abroad.’

      Count Henry picked up a fresh quill and began toying with it. Already his thoughts were straying back to his account books. ‘Very well, you may find her, she can’t have got far.’

      Arthur rose. ‘Shall I bring her to meet you?’

      ‘Heavens, no, I’ve had second thoughts on that score. What would I do with the girl? When you find her, you can take her straight to Count Myrrdin in Brittany.’

      Take her straight to Count Myrrdin in Brittany?

      Arthur felt his jaw drop. ‘Take her to Fontaine? But, my lord—’

      ‘Myrrdin will know if she’s his daughter, he can decide what’s to be done with her.’ Count Henry picked up a knife and started trimming the quill.

      Arthur’s guts were cold. ‘My lord?’

      ‘There’s a problem, Captain?’

      ‘This...’ Arthur cleared his throat ‘...this commission may take some weeks to complete.’

      ‘So?’

      ‘Are the Guardians to go uncaptained for all that time? Mon seigneur, I urge you to reconsider. Wouldn’t it be better to bring her here, when I find her? We might then send word to Fontaine.’

      Count Henry scowled at his quill, tossed it aside and selected another. ‘No, no, you are my best man—who better to escort Myrrdin’s daughter to Fontaine? Sir Raphael can stand in as Captain of the Guardians until your return. The boy shows promise, it will do him good to be given real responsibility.’

      Arthur ground his teeth together. Not Raphael, dear God, not Raphael. Sir Raphael de Reims was everything Arthur would never be—the younger son of an old and ancient line. Arthur Ferrer, as everyone in Troyes knew, had not a drop of noble blood flowing in his veins.

      Arthur had hoped that Count Henry valued a man for his deeds and not his ancestry. I am the son of an armourer. Illegitimate. Raphael is the son of a count. What chance do I have against the son of a count? Is this Count Henry’s way of telling me I have lost my captaincy?

      Count Henry scrawled on a piece of vellum and handed it to him. ‘Take this to the treasury. You will be given money to cover your expenses. God speed, Captain.’ He glanced at the window. ‘It’ll be dusk before we know it. You had best hurry, if you intend to catch up with her tonight.’