Page 134 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
“Paul and I met in Italy. We were lovers. Then he went off to France. I had you. I left you with friends while I worked. When he found out, he confronted me. I could not care for you and work also, and it was a precarious time everywhere. I had an uncle in Cornwall, and Paul took you to him. I did not know that his daughter, my cousin, would steal my lover, but that is what happened. Paul met Sela and,” she waved a dismissive hand “married her, and with Shaldon’s help, set her up in that cottage.”
Had it been another one of Shaldon’s arranged marriages, with her as a pawn?
“You and he just gave me away?”
Fil shrugged. “It was war. You did not go hungry. No French pigs came to your door to rape you. Your house was not blown up by cannons. Did she…did she not care for you?”
Had she?
Her mother had been a gentle woman, not given to violent tempers, but so inwardly drawn it had been hard for Paulette to really know her. Had she accepted her lot—an absent husband and a child who was not her own?
She studied the face of the woman claiming to be her mother and wondered what answer would hurt her the most.
No.Hurting her was not the answer. There’d been enough lies all around. “She kept me safe. She showed me love. Her lies were ones of omission.”
Filomena grimaced. “There are always lies. Are there not, Kincaid? Behold, Paulette, your father’s half-brother.”
Kincaid cast the woman a baleful look.
“Why am I not surprised?” She looked from face to face. “Tell me. What is it truly I’m supposed to have? What is this letter from my father?”
Filomena chuckled, and Kincaid glared at her again.
“There was no letter from the French,” Fil said. “Only a clever counterfeit that allowed me to bleed the man for a bit. You knew that, did you not, Lord of Spies? But as for what your father sent to you, Paulette? Why, money of course. A ransom to the French. Agruen stole it from the French, Paul stole it back again, brought it to England, and decided to keep it. Is that not true, your Lordship?”
Shaldon seated himself on a wooden chair. “Agruen thought it was true, but we don’t know. It could as well be that the money is scattered across Spain. It was, as Fil says, a ransom for one of our people. When it went missing, when Agruen stole it, the French wanted it replaced. If Heardwyn took it, it was because he knew a replacement had been arranged.” He shrugged. “Like all spies, your father could be enterprising at times.”
In other words, her father could lie and steal. “And so you, Mother, and you, Uncle, let me be the lure for a villain chasing money you don’t even know exists.”
“We were not working together,” Fil said. “I am not without hope that the money exists. The cause of restoring the constitution of Spain can use that money.”
“Aye, the crown would like the money also, but it was never about money for me,” Kincaid said. “It was about stopping a traitor and uncovering his web. And I would never let you be hurt, lass.”
“But she was hurt,” Bink growled. “You couldn’t just scoop Agruen up and torture him?”
“This is England,” Shaldon said. “Not France. Paulette, Agruen’s pursuit of you was inevitable. He was getting desperate, and we knew he’d go after you long before your trust was dissolved on your twenty-fifth birthday. We feared he might even appear at your cottage and try to force you to marry him.”
Her breath caught. “He admitted he killed his wife.”
Shaldon grimaced. “With or without our involvement, Agruen was drawn to you. So we came up with a plan. Your uncle insisted you not be unprotected. The matchmaking scheme was his, and a brilliant match it is.”
Bink stiffened and her heart lifted. He hadn’t been part of this plotting. He’d been as much a victim as she was. Except…
“You matched me with the man who killed my father?”
Kincaid cleared his throat. “We matched you with a man of courage and heart and loyalty, a man who would defend the defenseless, protect women and children, and put his life on the line for his fellows. And yes, we knew he had beaten Paul, but it wasn’t him who killed him. That was Agruen, finishing the job a few days later.”
She turned to face Bink, and the hand she touched him with came back wet. It was covered with blood, and his face was a grim, grey mask, his eyes, tiny points of light.
“Bink.Bink,” she shouted. “He’s bleeding.” She jumped from his lap and tore open his coat. “Help him.”
