An Uncertain Choice(51)

“We need more than assumptions,” the duke said.

“You know as well as I do that Sir Derrick is already close to censure for all of the accidents regarding his friends Sir Bennet and Sir Collin,” the abbot replied.

I sat forward to the edge of my seat in surprise. I’d known the sheriff had questioned Derrick, but I hadn’t known the lawman was seriously considering Derrick as a suspect.

“He’s in no way to blame for the murder attempts,” the duke countered calmly, although his eyes and nose flared with barely concealed anger. “He’s one of my most trusted men. I would put my life into his hands. And I know they would do so for each other. They aren’t capable of perpetrating what you say.”

I glanced to where Sir Bennet and Sir Collin stood. Their faces were as hard as their leader’s, eyes flashing with resentment directed at the abbot. They obviously didn’t accuse Sir Derrick either.

“But the circumstances are quite unusual, are they not?” The abbot’s brow lifted and crinkled against the ring of hair that surrounded his bald head. “Since when have your men had to compete against one another for the most desirable woman in the land?”

“We may be competing with each other” — ?Sir Collin pushed away from the wall — ?“but we would never seek to harm one another.”

“I’ve seen the discord between you,” the abbot said. “We all have.”

I thought back to the dance, when the men had almost come to blows with one another.

“No matter the tensions we’ve experienced this month,” Sir Collin spoke again, “we aren’t murderers.”

“Perhaps that’s true of you and Sir Bennet, who both have land and wealth to speak of,” the abbot said. “But since Sir Derrick has none, he has much more to gain in the union.”

Derrick stood immobile, his back stiff, his chin held high. Why would he not rise to his own defense? Surely he could say something to deflect the abbot’s condemnation . . .

Unless he was guilty.

As soon as the thought came, I thrust it aside. I cared about him too much to think him guilty even if all the evidence said otherwise.

“My knight would never harm his friends,” the duke insisted. “They’re like his brothers. And he has no reason to hurt them, not when he’s capable of winning Lady Rosemarie’s heart without resorting to such methods.”


The abbot shook his head. “One of my servants overheard Sir Derrick telling her ladyship that he didn’t consider himself worthy enough for her. Perhaps he thought his only hope was to eliminate his competition.”

I couldn’t keep from thinking back to the innocent comments both the duke and Derrick had made concerning his jealousy. Derrick had said he couldn’t guarantee the safety of the other two knights if I spent any more time with them. And the duke had said he was glad I’d chosen Derrick because he was afraid Derrick would harm his friends with his jealousy.

I’d believed them to be jesting. But what if Sir Derrick was more reckless than I’d imagined?

The abbot cleared his throat and spoke again. “Can you explain why these unfortunate accidents have happened only to Sir Collin and Sir Bennet — ?first the shooting and poisoning, and then the fallen tent and the horse losing its shoe? Why have both of them suffered such attempts and not Sir Derrick?”

Sir Bennet had stepped next to Sir Collin, and his dark gaze narrowed on the abbot. “Perhaps Sir Derrick is being set up by one who doesn’t wish him to win Lady Rosemarie’s heart, especially since he appears to be succeeding at it.”

The abbot’s eyebrow rose again. “Are you laying claim to the misdeeds then, Sir Bennet?”

“You know that I’m not.” His voice was rigid and his glare narrow. “I believe there is one who has greater motivation —?”

The duke stopped Sir Bennet with a touch to his arm.

Sir Bennet clamped his lips closed, but his chest was puffed with the words he apparently wanted to speak.

“Of course you’ll want to defend your friend,” the abbot said in the measured, calm tone he always used. “But now, with all the evidence of the sheriff’s murder pointing directly at Sir Derrick, we have no choice but to lock him up.”

Sir Collin’s and Sir Bennet’s protests echoed through the Great Hall.

“If not for your safety, sirs,” the abbot said, “then for her ladyship’s? You surely would not wish to see any harm befall her? Would you?”

Suddenly, Derrick stepped forward, his gray eyes blazing like the white heat of a hearth fire. “She had better not get hurt.” His voice was ragged.

Only then did the abbot look at Derrick, holding his gaze for a long moment. “If you wish your friends and her ladyship to be free of danger, then I think it best that you hand yourself over. Don’t you agree?”

Beneath the layers of my gown, my legs trembled in fear for Derrick, of what would befall him. He was being accused of murdering the sheriff and treachery against his companions. And there seemed no way to refute the evidence.

As if coming to the same conclusion, the duke finally nodded at Derrick, as though trying to reassure him, before turning to the abbot. “Very well, Father Abbot. If you must lock up Sir Derrick, I ask that it be in one of the chambers.”

“I concur,” I said. “We can post a guard outside his door.”