The Apothecary Rose

The Apothecary Rose by Candace Robb Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: The Apothecary Rose by Candace Robb Read Free Book Online
Authors: Candace Robb
ears and began to yap, digging its paws into the dirt of the path. Lady Jocelyn glanced back, gave a little wave when she saw Owen, and then inexplicably picked up the yapping dog and hurried into the maze.
    Owen halted, perplexed. Had she for some reason changed her mind about granting an interview? Had he misunderstood? Had she misunderstood? His scar was pulling, and the chill made standing still unpleasant. Sleeping off the aftershocks of the ale seemed a better idea all he time. But should he give up so easily? Per haps he would walk to the entrance of the maze and call her name. If she did not answer, he would turn round and indulge himself.
    As he approached, the dog resumed its yapping, farther and farther into the maze. Lady Jocelyn was not waiting for him at the entrance. He almost turned back. What good was it to call to her? He would hardly be heard over the yapping dog. But he must question the lady sometime.
    Owen stepped through the sentinel yews and came face to face with the angry eyes of Lord March. He looked much larger in his fur-lined cloak and draped fur hat.
    'Are you following Lady March?' he demanded. His voice had a most impressive resonance.
    'Following? It was not my purpose, Lord March, but seeing her tugging at the little beast, I thought I might lend a hand.'
    The face was getting closer. Owen did not like its colour. Too red for reason. 'You would follow a young woman into the privacy of the maze unchaperoned?'
    Owen wanted to laugh. The dog would hardly allow for much dalliance. But he groped instead for a calming comment. It was at such times that he cursed himself for not pursuing his original plan, connecting himself to an Italian noble as a mercenary. That life would not have involved verbal duels. Perhaps humility was what Lord March desired. Owen made a little bow. 'Forgive me. I see how it appeared to you. I did not mean to insult Lady Jocelyn's virtue in any way.'
    Lord March grew redder. His beady eyes were now so close to Owen's face that he could see the red trails of last night's brandywine. 'You spoke with her at table last night.'
    Dear God, here it came. The truth just might get him out of this if it weren't about Lady Jocelyn's dead lover. Owen thought quickly. 'Last night. Aye. To be honest, it was that I wanted to apologize for. You see, my mates dared me to seek a word with her, the lovely new lady-in-waiting. They fortified me with ale and sent me off with the lie that she was unmarried. She soon set me straight about that. This morning I feel a fool.'
    'So you thought to dally with my lady, did you?'
    A fist met Owen's face. He couldn't believe it. Lord March had come out here for a brawl? His punch had grazed Owen's chin. Now he seemed to be aiming for his patch. Owen caught the arm that was raised to him and punched Lord March in the mouth. That set him back long enough to give Owen a chance to feel his jaw and reassure himself that any bruising would be hidden by his beard. He disliked the idea of travelling with signs of a recent brawl. One did not get good service at the inn with bruises and an eye patch. Lord March turned back for another go. Owen grabbed the man's arms and was embarrassed by how easily he held him still.
    'I do not wish to continue this, my lord. I assure you that you have no cause to fight me. I have not injured your name in any way.'
    The beady eyes smouldered with resentment. What cursed luck. Owen had hoped to learn enough about Fitzwilliam in this company that he might satisfy Thoresby without journeying north. Now he would have to leave without much to go on, for surely he had sufficiently insulted Lord March with his superior strength that the man would make it his business to get Owen killed. Or at least seriously injured.
    'You are Thoresby's man, I hear,' Lord March said. 'Get you back to London and away from my lady, or I'll have you torn limb from limb.'
    Owen gingerly let go the man's arms and backed up a few steps, bowed, and tried once

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