Page 3 of Wed By Proxy

“Only if it seems safe,” added Robin heavily.

“You have the purse of money I gave you—”

“Yes, yes,” said Willard. “Stop fussing and go! All will be well. I’ll get a hiding no doubt, but I daresay it won’t be my last.” He uttered this with such sanguinity, that Mathilde’s bosom was filled with admiration for her brave young friend. Truly, he was the role model she should take for her boyish ideal.

“I will never forget this, Will,” she promised as Robin grabbed her wrist and started to pull her from the room. “I am forever in your debt.”

“Oh aye,” agreed Willard with a yawn. “And you said I could keep the knife, mark you!” He turned onto his side and tucked a hand under his cheek, his eyes drifting shut, as Mathilde quietly pulled the door to behind them.

“He can’t truly be feeling sleepy,” Mathilde marveled, as she and Robin crept along the shadowy lesser-used corridors on a tortuous route down to the south gate of the castle. He must have been dissembling for her benefit. After all, she felt like her own wildly beating heart would leap out of her chest given any excuse.

Rob snorted. “He could sleep the night before his hanging, that one,” he murmured.

“Don’t say that!”

Rob’s hand closed tightly around her own. “Don’t forget his uncle’s a bishop,” he reminded her. “He won’t come to any harm. Besides, he’ll tell them you made him do it. Like we planned, remember?”

“That’s true enough,” she consoled herself.

“Ho! You boys!” She and Robin both stiffened and turned to face a rather tipsy-looking courtier dressed in a virulent shade of puce. He beckoned imperiously, and Rob started forward. “Not you,” frowned the young man, rocking back on his heels. “That one.” He pointed at Mathilde. “A look of innocence still clings to his features. My lady-love may be softened by it,” he added sentimentally. Rob opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, Mathilde hurried forward and stood before the young man. He blinked down at her a moment owlishly. “Have you ever been in love, m’boy?” he asked with a hiccup.

“Nay my lord,” she answered truthfully. Then coughed. Should she have tried to lower her voice? It sounded sadly girlish.

“A pure high treble,” he sighed with a sad smile. “Tell me, do you sing in the king’s choir?” She shook her head. “A pity.” He lapsed into melancholy silence as Mathilde gazed up at him expectantly.

“You have some commission for us, sir?” prompted Robin with an edge to his voice.

The young man gave a start and looked at Rob with disfavor. “Do you know who I am?” he asked his gaze returning to Mathilde thoughtfully.

She hesitated. “I think… Are you connected with the Woodcote family?” He looked familiar and she had a notion she had seen him about court with Viscount Woodcote and his cronies.

He nodded, looking pleased. “A quick-witted boy! I am Sir Edgar Hill, Viscount Woodcote’s heir.” Mathilde bowed, pleased with her improvisation. She was starting to enjoy herself. Sir Edgar Hill returned her bow with a flourish, and then drew a folded paper from his doublet. “I would like you to deliver this letter, unto the Lady Elizabeth Coton.” He spoke the name with reverence, though he had lowered his voice and cast a furtive look around. “You must not let it fall into the hands of her kinsfolk at any cost. Do you understand?” He shot her an anxious look. She nodded. Then he withdrew a silver coin from his cuff. “This is for you, young master. For your pains and your discretion,” he added meaningfully. “By the by,” he said, reaching out and catching her chin in his gloved hand. “Who are your people?” he screwed up his eyes. “I do not recall seeing you hereabouts? I should surely remember such a pretty boy.”

Mathilde’s eyes widened. Pretty? Then his words sank in. “M-my people?” she stammered.

Rob cleared his throat. “My young friend is an associate of the de Courcey family.”

Sir Edgar’s expression cleared. “Ah, I see.” He clicked his tongue. “How oft does vice take the guise of virtue,” he said regretfully. “I doubt the bloom of innocence will last long on that cheek. Not with that lineage.”

“We’ll take our leave of you,” added Rob with meaning, and Mathilde dropped back to join him.

Sir Edgar waved a gloved hand, and Robin tugged Mathilde down a side servant stair.

“Should we be in here?” she whispered as they descended the perilously steep staircase.

“It won’t signify,” Rob muttered.

“What did you mean by claiming I was an associate of the de Courceys?” she asked curiously.

“De Courcey has a notorious amount of bastards.”

“Oh!” She blushed faintly in the darkness.

“When you say that,” Rob added, gruffly apologetic. “People tend to stop asking questions.”

“That was very clever of you,” said Mathilde, without rancor. “I had thought of a false name to travel under,” she admitted. “But it was not a court name.”

“No you wouldn’t want a court name for the road,” Robin agreed, without much interest.