Page 27 of The Earl

Chapter 12

If she had thought the journey from Bradon Moor to Dromsley difficult, this one was much more so. It was warmer, aye, and the sun had been out for most of the day. But she and the other ladies had not accounted for the pronounced dearth of women in Conrad’s retinue.

Still, she had not yet been noticed among the servants, not even when she snuck off during their midday rest to relieve herself. It had been only one of many narrow escapes that day.

She could ride as easily as the men. Her brothers had ensured that, Rory being an expert horseman, even more so than Terric. The hose and surcoat she wore as a disguise were much preferable to a riding gown, so comfort was not a concern.

Keeping her hood raised and her mouth shut, however, was more difficult. She’d had to ignore every order or question thrown her way, and “simpleton” was the nicest of the epithets that had been tossed her way.

Conrad’s men, it turned out, used quite colorful language when not in the company of women.

According to Roysa, who had learned of Conrad’s plan from Terric, they would camp along the road this night before arriving at Valence Castle the following eve. Once they did stop, she would reveal herself. It was the moment she’d been dreading, and wishing for, all day.

How would Conrad react? Would she be able to convince him to let her stay?

Finally, it happened. Conrad yelled for the men to halt and their party stopped for the night.

Cait tied off her mare, disappeared once more into the thick woods, and hid her belongings before joining the others. Sitting back from the fire now, she waited for the right moment. She only hoped it would not throw Conrad into a fit of anger.

His father had indulged in them quite often. Conrad did not, but it was a constant battle.

Cait nibbled on the provisions Idalia had secured just for her, the hard bread a welcome refreshment. As more and more men joined the one large fire in the center of camp, she thought back to one of Conrad’s letters, the contents of which she had long since memorized.

By God’s body, you will not hang my nephew. You’ll see two hundred lanced knights on your land before you hang him!” Those were the words my father once spoke against the king, and this, while he was still one of his advisors. Later, when King Henry put the case up for trial, my father appeared in court with two hundred knights, just as he’d promised. A bold move, even for an earl. But my cousin did not hang. And I think the king respected him more for it, for a time at least.

Ofttimes I wish to be as cool and collected as your brother, but others, when I see spittle coming from my father’s mouth in a fit of rage, I wish to inherit that fire but perhaps without the brimstone.

It was hard to imagine him angry, just now. He sat casually atop a log between his squire and his marshal, the boy’s father. She’d heard there was some disagreement between them earlier, but you would never know it at this moment.

They laughed as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Conrad looked younger when he smiled, the white of his teeth evident even from this distance. His surcoat abandoned, his linen shirt rolled to his elbows, he looked more relaxed than he had since she’d arrived at Licheford.

Perhaps it was because he thought he’d left her behind . . .

“Move off, boy.”

With a hard shove, Cait was pushed off the flat rock she’d found behind the rest of the camp. Before realizing she’d done so, Cait let out a sound, startled.

A very ladylike sound.

“Is that . . . are you . . . ?”

She had no time to react before her hood was tossed down. The churl who’d done it, and who had pushed her from the rock, looked as surprised as she felt.

A bushy auburn beard covered so much of his face, Cait focused on his eyes instead. Blue. Very blue. And extremely confused.

“A woman?”

She dared not look at Conrad. By now, the man’s accusation had attracted the attention of the men closest to them. It would only be a matter of time before he came over. So be it. Cait had known she would be discovered before too long. The plan had always been to tell him before it was time to sleep. A woman alone among over fifty men? Nay, she wouldn’t risk it.

With the crowd that had gathered around her, she could not see him coming. But that voice was easily recognizable.

“What the devil?”

They parted to allow him a closer look.

At the woman. Disguised—poorly—as a boy. Idalia had braided her hair, but Cait had relied on the hood to keep her hidden. Without it, she was very much on display.

“Cait?”