Gilby shook his head. “No need,” he said. “I welcome the solitude.”
“Very well. We shall see you tomorrow, then.”
The old man glanced at him, something of curiosity and disapproval in his eyes. “Do you plan on staying here? I would advise against it.”
“So noted.”
Gilby moved close to him. “The Chapel of St. Peter. One hour.”
“That is sooner than expected.”
“There is much to discuss.”
Sean simply nodded and the old physician shuffled out of the antechamber, closing the door softly behind him.
The time was upon them. He could feel it.
*
“She has beencavorting with de Lara since nearly the day we arrived,” Neely was obviously drunk. “We have all tried to explain to her the evils of the man, but she will not listen.”
Jocelin sat across the table from the captain of the St. James guard. He had known the man for twenty years. Henry St. James treated him like a son, but that was never what Neely wanted. He wanted to be the son-in-law. It was not because of the wealth and power of the St. James clan; that much was certain. It was because of a deep and abiding affection he held for Sheridan. He’d become quite adept at controlling himself where she was concerned. Now, with disappointment, jealousy and liquor, the dam of control he had worked so hard to maintain had finally sprung a leak.
“Infatuated women are irrational creatures,” Jocelin said quietly.
“They are indeed,” Neely took another large swallow of the ale. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “De Lara knows who she is. And there is little doubt that the king sent him to charm her to see what he could draw out of her. There is no telling what she is divulged to him, and in turn, to John’s cause.”
“Are you telling me that she is untrustworthy?”
Neely’s dark eyes clouded with uncertainty. “I am not. I am merely… speculating.”
“Are you sure that it is not your jealousy talking?”
Neely pursed his lips as if to bitterly retort, but he took another drink instead. When it became clear that he would not answer, Jocelin took the bottle of ale away and stood up. He set the jug upon the nearest shelf of his small, modest accommodations near the chapel.
“Why do you come to me with this, de Moreville?” he asked. “What would you have me do?”
“Stop her. Tell her that de Lara only means her harm.”
Jocelin wriggled his eyebrows. “Were it only that simple. Do you not know of women, Neely? The more you try to discourage them, the more they will do whatever it is that you are attempting to discourage them from.”
Neely nodded or swayed; Jocelin could not be sure. He had been drinking long before he had ever sought out the bishop. Now he was down to the bare bones of emotions and shame.
“I tried to tell her,” Neely muttered. “She would not listen.”
Jocelin scratched his chin, thinking on all of the implications that clandestine communication with Sean de Lara could have. The long-term results, for both sides, could be immeasurable. He didn’t like it at all.
“Sheridan may as well have taken up games with a viper,” he said. “And this viper will kill her more swiftly than any reptilian creature. This viper has a brain and a heart, courage unparalleled and a skill beyond compare. To keep her away from him, we must be more cunning and more skillful than he is.”
“Do you really think he is trying to draw information out of her about the resistance?” Neely was close to falling out his chair by now. It would not be long before he was passed out completely. “I cannot imagine what other purpose he may have. Surely he would not attempt to court her.”
Jocelin frowned at him. “Court her? Of course not. Men like Sean de Lara do not court women. Their life and their loves are war and politics.”
Neely tried to stand up, making a bad attempt of it. “Then you must speak to Lady Sheridan before she does something she regrets. Tell her… tell her to stay away from de Lara. Tell her that he only means her harm”
Jocelin steadied him and forced him to sit back down in the chair. “We may not have to worry over it much longer.”
“Why?”