A Defiant Maiden's Knight
highlight_author
Melissa Oliver
highlight_reads
18.3K
highlight_chapters
21
HarlequinChapter One
Sir Warin de Talmont tugged his hood over his head and followed the man whom he had been trailing through the myriad of London’s narrow lanes leading to the bustling thoroughfare of Westcheap. He caught the eye of Nicholas d’Amberly—a fellow member of a small select group calling themselves the Knights Fortitude of the Order of the Sword. Pro Rex. Pro Deus. Pro fide. Pro honoris.
Their motto was an apt reminder that they put King and country at the heart of everything they held sacred, unlike many other religious orders of the day. This they did foremost by working tirelessly to uncover and quash plots against the Crown of England.
Nicholas passed by him and made a single nod, which Warin returned. He continued to follow the man through the cobbled street famed for its row upon row of stalls of hustling market traders, selling their wares, giving Westcheap its distinctive vibrant spirit.
Completing their triumvirate was Savaric Fitz Leonard, who would be, at that very moment, manning nearby Ludgate, waiting to finally spy this man with any other possible conspirators he might happen to meet. This was what they were all waiting on before apprehending the man and finding out who it was that he was working for.
It had all been meticulously planned. And after weeks of uncertainty about the threat against the Crown, they had managed to gain this one lead to exploit. This one weak point that might be the very key they needed that could finally unlock the plot masterminded by an elusive group of traitors. Traitors known only by their insignia of the two entwined serpents or Duo Dracones.
Warin followed the man weaving his way through the crowds gathered around the market sellers and stalls where mercers sold silk, linen and fustian cloth and silver trinkets on one side of the street and the stretch of cordwainers, stitching and moulding soft leather deftly into footwear around wooden stumps, on the other. The smell of leather fused with that of livestock being sold in nearby Cattle Street and pails of milk and other dairy goods as well as barrels of ale in Milk Street, giving the air a distinct, pungent odour that mingled with the sweat and toil. But this was what Warin loved about London—the hustle and graft of a working city. A city he was determined to keep safe. A vulnerable Crown that had to be protected above anything.
The man he was following stopped abruptly and spoke to the cordwainer at the last stall, who nodded and retrieved a pouch from inside the sleeve of his cape, dropping it into his hand. The man then tucked this on his person and continued to mill his way through, this time with a little more urgency than before. Warin pursued the man, who turned into the noisy cobbled Bread Street where trade was seemingly busy that morning, with all types of warm baked breads, rolls and small crusty meat pies being sold along the long, narrow road.
Warin kept his eyes peeled on the man as he quickened his pace, glad that his towering height allowed him to follow the man expediently. But it was just at that very moment as the man slipped down a narrow alleyway between a wooden arched doorway when Warin heard a piercing scream on the other side of the road along Honey Lane, making him spin around on his heel and take in the scene before him. A group was gathering around a young woman who had fallen to the ground and, on her hands and knees, was groping around in the dirt and muck. A young woman Warin recognised instantly. Joan Lovent—the younger sister of the Knights Fortitude’s leader, Thomas Lovent.
Damn!
He glanced back around at the retreating shadow of the man he had been pursuing for the better part of that morning and muttered another oath, cursing his bad luck. The blasted mission was about to end in disaster and for a moment Warin questioned whether to pursue the man or go to the aid of the woman who had just blundered into this mission.
He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, knowing all that would be lost here and how the others in the Order might hold him accountable for letting the man go. But there was no question of what was expected of him—of what he had to do. Warin opened his eyes and turned in resignation, making his way towards the entrance of Honey Lane and the small crowd of bystanders huddled around the woman. Why in god’s name was she even here, in this busy part of the city, seemingly alone? Especially with her brother away from London and on Crown business.
In truth, before Thomas Lovent had left London, he had asked him to look out for his unruly sister but Warin had thought he had meant to make a few courtesy visits, which he had yet to do. But never this—finding Joan Lovent unattended, friendless and sprawled on a dirty London road. He expelled an irritated sigh as he made his way through and knelt beside her.
‘Are you hurt, Mistress Joan? What happened here?’
The young woman’s head snapped up and she blinked several times, her eyes darting in every direction, not truly focusing on him.
‘Sir Warin de Talmont?’ Her dark strawberry-blonde brows furrowed in the middle as she absently rubbed her forehead, smudging a line of dirt across it, making him want to reach out and wipe it off for her. ‘You are here?’
‘I am and happy to be of service to you. Allow me, mistress.’ Warin stood, reaching for her hand and pulling her up to stand in front of him. The contact shot a sudden warmth through his veins, which he dismissed, irritably. He dropped his hand as the small crowd began to disperse.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No, I thank you, sir. I am perfect well.’ She brushed her hands down the length of the stained brown apron tied around the waist of her kirtle.
‘Good, because the pertinent question, mistress, is why you are here. Would you care explaining?’
She laughed softly. ‘Ah, I see that you believe I should?’
‘I do.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘It is not safe for a maiden such as yourself to be here, in this part of London.’
‘A maiden such as me?’ Joan’s back seemed to straighten as she tilted her head up. ‘Heavens, but what could you possibly mean?’ Her voice seemed to drip with disdain. He groaned to himself, knowing he had offended the woman.
Joan Lovent might be a notable beauty, with her creamy skin, delicate features and long russet and strawberry-blonde hair tucked beneath a dishevelled linen veil, which in truth made her lovelier and far more endearing. However, she also had failing eyesight that would one day lead to permanent darkness, once the blindness claimed her vision. And yet with Joan Lovent, Warin felt compromised between feeling empathy for her situation and annoyance since the woman was always such a damn nuisance.
The first time he had ever met her was two summers ago when Thomas Lovent had given him the responsibility of escorting his young sister at a perilous time for the man and, even then, she had made Warin feel wary. Since then, he had only seen her a handful of times and spoken to her even less. Yet he still felt the same about Joan Lovent. She was not only a nuisance but there was something far too perceptive about her that made him uneasy—that somehow managed to grate on him—as though she could see right through to his broken soul. Which was why he tried to avoid the woman as much as possible.
He picked up her wooden staff and passed it to her. ‘I hope you know that I intended no ill will, mistress. Only that a lady of your standing should not be on a jaunt to this part of London. It is not safe here.’ He leant forward, whispering in her ear, ‘Especially when you consider who your brother is.’
She smiled brightly. ‘I thank you for coming to my aid just now, Sir Warin—however, my “jaunt” here can really be of no concern to you.’
He reached out and picked a twig that was stuck to her veil, tossing it to the ground. ‘I beg to differ, Joan, and by and by I came to your aid because of the very fact that you found yourself in need of a knight.’
‘You think so, do you?’
‘Naturally.’ He nodded. ‘You screamed—I came.’
‘You are excessively obliging, sir.’ She turned to go. ‘And are of great service to us foolish maidens who traipse on jaunts all over the wrong parts of the city. Now I really must go. Despite what you might believe, I did not come here alone and my young page will arrive with the provisions I acquired. Good day to you, Sir Warin, and thank you again.’
The woman spoke with such a light sing-song lilt to her voice that it seemed incongruent that she had been in such an aggrieved state only moments ago.
His hand reached out and cupped her elbow, stilling her. ‘Not so swiftly, mistress. You have not still divulged to me the reason why you are here or even the cause of your distress that induced that...scream.’
She laughed softly again. ‘I did not realise I had to disclose any such thing to you, sir.’
‘Of course not, but in the absence of your brother, it behoves me to enquire as it does to ensure your safety.’
‘So gallant of you, Sir Warin. You are an embodiment of brotherly concern.’ It somehow irked him, the manner in which Joan Lovent boldly said the word ‘brotherly’. There was no doubt that he was nothing of the sort. His gaze fell to where his hand cupped Joan’s elbow and he exhaled through his teeth, nettled that once again his notice of Joan was wholly inappropriate. He was a man who would never again be attached to a woman. No, once was enough and that had ended in heartache and pain. ‘But if you must know, Sir Warin, I had been at the All Hallows Church where my patronage is hugely appreciated, enabling the good that can be done for the poor and sick of that small parish.’
‘That is very commendable. I’m heartily impressed. It seems that you are all kindness and benevolence, mistress.’
She shrugged. ‘It seems that way, does it not?’
‘And I suppose your brother is aware that you come all this distance within the city gates to help at All Hallows?’
‘Of course.’ She bit her bottom lip, looking away.
He frowned, shaking his head at her. ‘You know it is a sin to lie, Joan. And it is sadly just as I thought—Thomas Lovent is not aware of your jaunts,’ he muttered. ‘And since he is not here in London you thought to leave the safe confines of your home?’
They meandered through Honey Lane, which traded in exotic spices as well as food stalls just as in Milk and Bread Streets. His hold of her tightened, safeguarding her movements as they walked along the narrow path, making sure that she would not fall down to the ground.
‘Again I must wonder at how my movements can be of interest to you, sir?’ she asked softly.
‘Since your brother expressly asked me to look out for you, mistress, and as it happens your movements seem to undermine your safety.’ Not to mention his mission, which had all but ended in disaster because of her. Not that Joan Lovent could know any of it. But it had been a great misfortune that their paths had crossed on this day. Yet, if they had not, the woman might have found herself in a more precarious situation than she already had.
‘I thank you, but there is really no need. And I trust we shall keep this between us, sir.’ She flashed him a warm smile. ‘My brother, nor should I add my sister by marriage, really need to know about any of this, do they?’
Warin stopped abruptly and watched her for a moment, as he folded his arms across his chest, knowing he could make no such promises. And yet the concern furrowed on her brows made him soften a little.
He sighed. ‘As long as you make an oath that this will be your last jaunt here without their knowledge.’
She huffed and continued to move down the busy cobbled road. ‘But I do not know what I shall do with myself.’
‘I am sure you will think of another cause. Somewhere far safer and far closer to your home.’ Warin followed her and wrapped his hand around her shoulder, gently guiding her away, as she almost lost her footing on the uneven cobble path. ‘What say you, mistress? Do you have an answer for me?’
She did not immediately respond, making him push her further on this salient point. With an unknown threat against the Crown, and with the woman’s own brother away from London, it now annoyingly fell to him to keep her safe—and he would do it by having her as far away from him, his work and the machinations of Court as possible. Especially since Joan Lovent might become an impediment to all that he was trying to achieve.
‘In fact, you need not do anything other than seek your own comfort within the safety of your house, away from the city, mistress.’
‘How well you know me,’ she muttered sardonically. ‘In truth, I find I detest sitting idly by in the bower, spinning at the loom. Instead, I’d rather seek something worthwhile to occupy myself.’
His lips twitched. No, from their short acquaintance he was certain that was something Joan Lovent could not be described as, despite her limitations. ‘I would never envisage you to be idle, but I am all agog that you cannot find a worthwhile occupation at home.’
‘Sadly, I have not. I only seem to be good at being a benefactor and giving my patronage to a small insignificant church such as All Hallows and assisting them where I can. I dare say it gives me a purpose. But I suppose you would rather those poor souls seek another wealthy benefactor.’
‘I do. But you have yet to explain what happened here for you to be crawling around in the dirt?’
‘Well, in the interest of brotherly concern, I’m embarrassed to say that a scoundrel took advantage of me.’
‘What?’ He exhaled harshly. ‘Hell’s teeth, woman, why did you not say anything before!’
‘There seemed so much more to say regarding where I had gone and why I was here.’
‘This is no jesting matter, Joan. You could have been hurt. Tell me what happened.’
‘You are right, Sir Warin. Truly I am fine and I only screamed out of frustration as the brigand snatched my gold necklace—snapped it clean off my neck!’
Hell’s teeth.
‘I am very sorry to hear this.’
‘Oh, there is really no need.’ She waved her hand dismissively. ‘I feel rather indifferently about the necklace itself, but the little painted wooden cross that he tossed to the ground—for me that is worth all the silver in the land. And the reason I was on my hands and knees searching for it, but, alas, I could not find it.’
He frowned, not understanding her as he gently guided away from a group of rowdy young men walking towards them. ‘What is so precious about it?’
‘It’s just a worthless trinket, really. But of great value to me.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘You see, my younger sister gave it to me, after painstakingly painting it for me, and...well, it is all I have left of her.’
Warin knew her story. He knew it well. And it was as marred by the same heartache and loss that he had experienced himself after the deaths of his beloved wife and child many years ago. It had left an unbearable pain that he still felt after all this time.
For Joan it had been a different heartache when she had survived a horrific fire that claimed her home, her family and everything she held dear—including, it seemed, her beloved mother and young sister. It was after much time had passed before her brother, Thomas, returned from Aquitaine and felt the burden of responsibility of what had happened as well as the fate of his only living sister. God only knew what the man would say now if he knew about her coming to this part of London essentially alone.
‘I will find it for you, Joan.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said I will find it for you. On my honour.’
She raised her brows in surprise. ‘You would do that for me?’
He looked down at her and sighed. ‘I would, mistress, but only on one condition.’
She shook her head. ‘Of course, there would be conditions attached.’
‘Naturally.’ He smiled. ‘And it is this—if I happen to find this wooden cross of yours—’
‘Don’t forget that it is painted red, yellow and white,’ she interrupted, ‘although it’s now a little dirty, I suppose.’
‘If I find it,’ he tried again, ‘I want you to promise that you will cease coming to this part of London, however important the cause might be.’
He watched her intently as every emotion darted across her face before she exhaled a frustrated air of resignation. ‘Only if you find it, Sir Warin.’
‘Good, and you would swear an oath to that?’
‘Must I?’
‘I am afraid so,’ he said softly. ‘And by and by, I advise that you become involved with something else that might provide you with purpose.’
Her shoulders dropped, but Warin would not be affected. He must not. This was for her own good. ‘Do I have your agreement?’
‘There is a pertinent word to describe what you’re doing, but very well. Now I really must take my leave of you.’ She looked straight ahead, her head held high, without turning to acknowledging him. It was clear that she was not happy with this and had difficulty hiding her displeasure. No matter, Warin could live with that.
He dipped his head. ‘Allow me to escort you home.’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Certainly, but if you decline then I’ll just have to follow you, mistress, so that I can be satisfied of your safety back home.’
She made a single nod as she moved with the aid of the wooden staff she used to meet the page who was waiting to assist her.
God’s breath, but it was ridiculous that the woman had even ventured to this notorious part of London at all. Warin would have to make certain that he found this wooden cross of hers only to ensure that she never returned.
