Page 40 of Retribution

“Oh?” Cambridge said, seemingly concerned. “What has happened?”

Cleodora appeared distressed. “That beautiful scene on the skirt, the embroidery, has seen some unraveling and I fear that it must be tended to immediately before it becomes worse. Even more terrible, one of the angel sleeves has a tear in the seam. I do not believe I was careless with it, but the fabric is so fragile that it is starting to tear away. It must be seen to right away or I am afraid the entire sleeve will fall apart.”

Cambridge nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I spent a great deal of money on that dress and we do not want it damaged, so you may go. Sit here and speak with your father for a few moments whilst I find Langford and have a carriage sent around for you. Where is the dress now?”

“Filly is packing it up very carefully, my lord.”

“Good,” he said, standing up and heading for another exit that the servants used. “Sit with your father, my dear. I will return.”

Cleodora did. She sat next to Everald as Cambridge quit the chamber. When the man was gone, and there was no one else about, Everald turned to her.

“Tell me about this knight you met,” he said, his voice low. “The one who guards Edward.”

Cleodora looked at him, surprised by the question. Her father seemed quite serious about it, so she attempted to figure out what he meant. “You mean the one who saved my life from the robbers?” she said. “Did Cambridge tell you about that?”

“What robbers?”

“At Adelie’s,” she said. “The dressmaker. I was there and robbers threatened me. The knight saved my life.”

Everald regarded her as more information became clear. “Cambridge did not tell me that part of it,” he said. “He simply told me that you had made an acquaintance of a bodyguard of the king.”

“He is the bodyguard of Edward.”

“Cambridge also told me what he asked of you.”

Cleodora didn’t realize what he meant for a brief second, but when she did, her composure took a hit. Her expression flickered from a somewhat pleasant one to one of fear. “He told you…” She trailed off, unable to finish. “Did… did he tell you that he wants me to get close to the king?”

Everald sighed sharply. “Aye, he did,” he said, leaning forward and looking his daughter in the eye. “Whatever that man asks of you, you must do it. Do you understand me? If you do not, he will take it out on me.”

She looked at him, terrified. “Papa,” she whispered. “He asked me to kill the king. He wants me to get close enough to… to kill the man!”

“It is not that difficult,” Everald snapped. “You sup with him, seduce him, whatever you have to do to him, and then you slip poison into his wine. He drinks it and he is dead. I will live, you will live, and all will be well in our world.”

Tears welled in Cleodora’s eyes. “Oh, Papa,” she said, struggling not to sob. “You do not understand. I cannot do it. I do not know how!”

Everald grabbed her by the wrist, his fingers biting into her. “It is either Edward’s life or yours,” he spat. “Or mine. If Edward does not die, you and I will. I cannot be much plainer than that.”

“You are hurting me!”

That just made him squeeze harder. “Do not be stupid,” he said. “The only reason you and I have a pleasant life is because of Cambridge. If the man wants the moon, you go and get it. And if he wants you to rid him of an enemy, you do it or he will rid himself of you. Do you understand me?”

There were voices by the hall entry and Cleodora used the distraction to yank her arm away. Quickly, she stood up, away from her father so he couldn’t grab her again. Langford appeared in the entry door to inform her that a carriage was being brought around and that was all the encouragement she needed to rush from the chamber. Everald couldn’t get another word in because she was gone, but he hoped she’d gotten his message.

God help them both, he hoped so.

Their lives depended on it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

He was actually nervous.

Or maybe impatient was more like it. Whatever Aidric was feeling, it had him feeling jumpy. His stomach was in knots. Tucked away in a chamber at the end of Adelie’s shop where women would be fitted for their dresses, he had a perfect view of the street outside and the entry. He didn’t know when Cleodora was going to come, so he’d been at the shop since daybreak.

He didn’t want to chance missing her.

Adelie herself, an older woman with gray-streaked hair and bright eyes, had admitted him. He’d spoken to her the day before the feast when he’d brought his request for tunics, so she remembered him, and she was very apologetic that she hadn’t been able to honor his request. Aidric had brushed off her concern, assuring her that it wasn’t her fault but his, and then he told her he had a meeting with a young lady that day and required one of Adelie’s private dressing rooms for that purpose.

Because Adelie also knew that Aidric had been one of the men who had fought off the robbers, she was more than willing to supply him with the chamber. Aidric paid her for her discretion, of course, and she was happy to remain silent about it, especially when he told her whom he was there to see. The Archbishop of Cambridge might have been a good paying customer, but he also kept a beautiful young woman like a pet—and as the mother of a daughter herself, Adelie didn’t much like that.