Scoundrel of Dunborough by Margaret Moore Page A

was like a mother to you.”
    “This woman enabled the former steward of Dunborough to steal from the estate while he blamed me for the loss.”
    That gave Celeste a moment’s pause. Stealing was a very serious offense. But the woman was still in dire need, whatever she had done. “Even so, for mercy’s sake—”
    “Verdan!” Gerrard called out.
    A soldier rode forward.
    “Take charge of the patrol.”
    “Aye!” Verdan raised his hand and led the group of mounted men past them.
    With more gentleness than she expected, and no hint that he found Eua repulsive, Gerrard reached down to help the sobbing old woman to her feet.
    “For mercy’s sake and Sister Augustine’s, you can stay one night in the castle,” he said to the trembling Eua, “but then you must be on your way.”
    “Gerrard, surely—” Celeste started to protest.
    The look he gave her silenced her, at least on that one point. But she had something else to say to him and might never have another chance. “Thank you for the guards, Gerrard, and Lizabet, too. I feel safer for their presence.”
    His eyes lit up in a way that made her blush, and his lips curved in a grin that wasn’t mocking or insolent. It was as if time had not wrought so very great a change, and he was again the Gerrard she’d admired so long ago.
    Until he muttered a quiet curse, for Eua was sidling down the alley away from them. He darted after her and once more gently gripped her arm. “Come along, Eua, and be a good woman, as I was your good boy once. You can have something to eat and a warm bed for the night.”
    She made no further protest.
    “Good day, Sister,” Gerrard said with great politeness before they started toward the castle.
    “Good day, Gerrard,” she murmured as she watched him lead the old woman and his snow-white horse away.
    Leaving her to wonder what else had changed while she was far from home.
    * * *
    “Oh, that’s lovely, that is!” Lizabet said when Celeste returned with the meat for the stew. “Ben must like you.”
    Celeste doubted that very much, yet didn’t say so. “Have you ever heard tell of a servant called Eua at the castle?” she asked while Lizabet fetched a bowl and some flour.
    Lizabet started to cut the meat into smaller pieces. “She was here when Lady Mavis come, but not for long.”
    “Lady Mavis sent her away?”
    “Aye. She didn’t have much choice, really. Eua was disrespectful and made it no secret that she thought Gerrard ought to have Dunborough, not Roland, no matter who was born first or what their father wanted. We was all glad to see the back of Eua. What a tongue that woman had!
    “And then it turns out she was helping Dalfrid—he was the steward—to steal. Gerrard found her in York with Dalfrid and his mistress and realized what she’d done.”
    “So he brought her back here to face justice?”
    “Lord love you, no,” Lizabet said as she put some fat into one of the pots and swung it over the fire. When it began to sizzle, she dropped the flour-coated meat into it. “He let her stay in York with the mistress.”
    “I met her in the village today. She’s in a wretched state, starving and in rags.”
    Lizabet didn’t look particularly sympathetic. “Why she’d come back here, I don’t know. Maybe Dalfrid’s leman got tired of her nasty tongue, too.”
    “I thought she might have come back to seek help from Gerrard. She was always good to him and he was generous to her.”
    “Until that Dalfrid made out it was Gerrard costing the estate, when it was him stealing, and Eua knew it. Dalfrid paid her to keep quiet.”
    No wonder Gerrard had been so stiff and cold toward Eua. How it must have hurt him to find out the woman he loved like a mother was willing to betray him for money. Yet he had offered Eua food and shelter. “He’s letting her stay the night in the castle.”
    Stirring the beef, Lizabet didn’t appear surprised. “All the beggars that come to the village can stay a night in the