Gerard made his way over to where Sean was seated. “Because our king is mulling over the possibility of razing Lansdown Castle on your way to the Marches.”
Sean stopped sharpening. He stared at Gerard, struggling not to overtly respond. “Why would he do that?”
“Why not?”
Sean held Gerard’s gaze a moment longer, trying to read him. But the man’s expression was characteristically stupid. He slowly went back to his blade. “Then he’d better send me with a large army. Lansdown is nearly impenetrable.”
Gerard lingered around the chair for the moment. Sean could feel him breathing down his neck. He wasn’t so sure why the man was being so solicitous, but he didn’t like it. He was suspicious. The blade in his hand suddenly ended up at Gerard’s throat.
D’Athée threw his hands up in response to the threatening action. There was a glimmer of humor in his dark eyes.
“Not me, my friend,” he said with a smile. “I am not your enemy.”
Sean’s clear blue eyes were laced with venom. “Tell me everything you have heard and tell me why you feel the need to be so solicitous.”
Gerard continued to grin at him in the hopes of infuriating Sean. It didn’t work. After a moment, his smug grin faded.
“He had me follow you this afternoon,” he rumbled. “He wanted to see where you took the St. James girl. I followed you to the physic and back to the St. James apartments. Then I followed you back to the physic again, where you sent the man back to the St. James’ chambers. And now, here we are, cozy comrades.”
Sean had the point of the blade aimed right at his major artery. One flick and the man would bleed to death right in front of him. They both knew that it was not out of the realm of possibility; they’d both seen Sean do far worse.
“Why did he have you follow me?” Sean’s tone was as deadly as the wicked gleam of the blade.
“Because you stopped him from having his way with the red-haired girl. You have never done that before.”
A split-second of uncertainty crossed Sean’s eyes, but Gerard was too dense to see it. “I told him why. There is no mystery to it.”
Gerard shook his head, rubbing his neck against the blade. Spots of blood appeared. “But you took her to the physic and escorted her home.”
Sean lifted an eyebrow. “I have done that before, too, and well you know it. In fact, you have accompanied me on such outings. I did nothing with the St. James woman that I haven’t done before.”
“Except stopped the king from taking her. You know as well as I do that no one does that and escapes his wrath, or his suspicions.”
“So what has he sent you to do? Watch every move I make? Kill me as I sleep?”
Gerard shook his head, carefully. “No, my friend. Nothing so drastic. You are a favorite of our king. But you placed doubt in his mind with your actions. He will demand a show of your loyalty now.”
Sean could see where he was leading. “To destroy Lansdown?”
“To prove you are more loyal to him than to the House of St. James.”
With a hiss, Sean dropped the knife and turned away. “So that’s it,” he said. “He needs affirmation of my fealty.”
“Aye.”
Sean turned to him. “Does he really think I have loyalties to the opposition? For Christ’s sake, I have spent nine years in his personal service. Does he really believe I would jeopardize my standing for a stupid wench hardly out of swaddling clothes?”
Gerard shrugged. “All I know is what I have heard. He has not told me anything directly. I would expect he would do that, to you, very shortly.”
Sean’s jaw was ticking, a million thoughts rolling through his mind. “He wants me out of London and off to the wilds,” he muttered to himself. There was tremendous irony in his voice as he slowly shook his head. “Oh, sweet mercy.”
Gerard left him alone. Sean didn’t know where the man went, but he suspected it was to tell the king of their conversation. Of that, he was unconcerned. But he was deeply concerned with the course the last few minutes had taken.
So he would be ordered to ride to Kington, destroying Lansdown along the way. It didn’t even matter that Lansdownwould be his own when he married Sheridan. It had nothing to do with that. What mattered was making sure Sheridan was safe before he left, and there was no doubt he would go. He had to. Nine years had come to this point and he would not risk everything, at least not now.
Everything now hinged on the attack on London. It had to be before he left for the Marches so that he did not have to go. He would undoubtedly be required to stay and protect the city. Consequently, he had to get Sheridan out of London now and send her home for her own safety. However, if the attack on London was delayed and he found himself mobilizing for the Marches with Lansdown in his path, then he would find himself attacking the castle with Sheridan within its walls.
It was an appalling prospect.