The Lily and the Lion by Catherine A. Wilson, Catherine T Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

him look sinister or ill-intending – quite the opposite in fact. His countenance was open and friendly and I instantly felt sorry that this mark had so altered what would have been a handsome face.
    â€˜Yes, M’lord, and might I begin by apologising for the secrecy? You see, I have much to lose and no one to trust,’ I whispered, lowering my gaze to the floor.
    â€˜You may trust me, gentle lady,’ he replied, ‘for I have not come to harm you, only to inquire what you could need of me.’
    â€˜Thank you, Lord Moleyns. I am hoping you can provide me with information concerning the family who lives at Broughton.’
    â€˜Broughton?’ His eyebrows arched. Seating himself upon a barrel, his gaze slid scrupulously over me. ‘May I ask who you are?’
    â€˜M’lord, that is precisely what I am attempting to ascertain. I was, until recently, of the belief that I was orphaned, raised instead by a kindly family in Cambridgeshire, who gave as much as they could but whose wealth was limited. I have since discovered that I may have a connection to a family at Broughton and am hoping to discover if there is any truth in this.’
    â€˜I do not know that I will be of any help to you.’ A wry smile appeared on his lips, ‘for I barely know the Holland family.’
    My heart skipped a beat for here was the connection between the two.
    â€˜Any information you have will be most gratefully received,’ I added, in the hope that I would appear convincing.
    â€˜I see,’ he began. His hand, resting neatly upon his thigh, opened to reveal a strange sight, his first and second fingers joined together as one. It was as though he had four fingers and not five, the others connected by a thin membrane of skin, much like the tail of a fish. ‘All information is worth something, is it not?’ It would appear that the greatest of noblemen are no different from those found begging on the street, for Anaïs knew immediately his meaning and, stepping forward, placed a gold coin into his malformed palm.
    â€˜The family of Holland, Thomas, Earl of Kent, and his wife, Joan, reside at Broughton, a demesne northeast of Salisbury in Hampshire. They have a large family, three of each, sons and daughters. The Lady Joan is a beautiful woman and much admired at court. I am unaware of any wards they may have in their care but should you have any connection to that estate, be it even as a child of one of their many workers, I am sure the Earl would happily find a place for you there, or perhaps in a convent nearby, for you seem quite pious,’ he smirked.
    â€˜M’lord, I wish to thank you for your help.’
    â€˜I am only too glad to assist, although I must say you appear almost too finely bred …’
    â€˜I must ask you, Sir, to keep our meeting most private,’ I quickly interjected, fearing that Lord Moleyns’ assumptions were about to reveal a deeply rooted truth. ‘I would not wish to bring ill repute to an innocent family, should my inquiries reveal little or no connection to the Earl.’
    â€˜Of course.’ His hand once again opened in the hope of receiving a payment for silence. This time I nodded to Anaïs and she slipped the best part of our small reserve to the nobleman as he rose from the barrel.
    â€˜I hope that was worth it,’ stated Anaïs as we watched the figure retreat.
    â€˜I believe it was.’ I would have parted with any amount of gold for what I had learned.
    One week later Gillet de Bellegarde returned. He was not alone.
    Summoned to our communal eating room I was greeted by a harried Gillet, the depth of his concern very much in evidence.
    â€˜After much consideration I decided to call upon an old friend for assistance,’ he began, seating himself opposite me at the long table. ‘Lord Wexford has agreed to remain in England with you whilst I return to Paris and ascertain what must be done with your