A Dishonorable Knight Read Online Free

was used to.
    "I know not what you are talking
about," Elena said in a voice that sounded tight and brittle to her own
ears.
    "Be not coy, Elena. We all know
that you have been planning to marry Lord Edgeford.”
    Elena ground her teeth. How dare
these women speculate on her plans? "Perhaps you had best return to your
tea leaves, Margaret. I care not a bit for Edgeford. We are merely
acquaintances."
    "Elena, few women are ever
pleased by political marriages. They are almost always to doddering old men we
know nothing about. Can you not admit you are frightened?" Margaret asked.
"Think of Princess Elizabeth. Rumor says His Majesty is considering
wedding her and he is her uncle! Think what worries she must be faced with
being the most important political pawn in the country."
    "She would be queen, how worrisome
can that be? You are just trying to frighten me. ‘Tis just what you would like
to see, is it not? Me sobbing into my cups over some man. Well, I shall not give you the satisfaction," Elena said sharply.
    With a shake of her head, Margaret
turned away and curtsied as Princess Elizabeth approached.
    Elena cast a speculative glance at
the king’s niece. If the rumor Margaret mentioned was true, the princess might
be sympathetic to Elena’s wanting to avoid a distasteful marriage and could be
persuaded to argue her case before the king. Smiling her warmest smile, Elena
offered Elizabeth her seat and a glass of wine.

Chapter 2
     
    Gareth watched the King's niece draw
the Lady Elena down beside her, speaking with great
animation as Elena stared into space. He could not help but laugh. There was
justice in the world. He had no doubt that she had set her cap for the tall fop
she had maneuvered to dance with. 'Tis what she deserves, he thought, as he
doubted that cold woman could have loved such a foolish man—or any man
for that matter. Still, if her only interest was a title, she should look a
sight happier at catching an earl. With a shrug, he looked around for Cynan and
Bryant and saw them standing with a small group of men who gathered at the back
of the great hall, talking quietly amongst themselves.
    As he started across the room, a
serving maid stumbled in front of him, falling on the ground and dropping a
pile of empty trays. Gareth quickly helped the young woman up, brushing off her
worn skirt before he knelt to retrieve the trays.
    "Thank you, milord," the
maid said timidly, a shy smile touching her mouth.
    "Be careful. God only knows the
last time these rushes were changed," Gareth said, nodding to the floor.
"Were you to fall again, we may not be so lucky as to find you," he
teased.
    The young woman nodded, obviously
amazed that the knight had not cursed or yelled or simply stepped right over
her. When Gareth chucked her gently under the chin, she blushed bright pink and
stared after him with adoration as he continued on his way.
    "Tis not a rumor, I tell
you," a short man of sturdy build was saying as Gareth joined his friends
at the back of the hall. "And Henry Tudor has just as much claim to the
throne as Richard does."
    "More so, I say, since Henry has
not killed innocent boys for it!" answered a broad-shouldered man with
iron-grey hair. The men stopped talking when they noticed Gareth, but Cynan
spoke up.
    "’Tis all right. Gareth is Welsh
and bears no great love for Richard."
    Gareth frowned and glanced around at
the men gathered in the shadows. Several of them he knew as knights, men at
arms. A couple he’d not seen before but could tell by the cut of their cloth
they were noblemen, landholders.
    “Aye, and it’s Welsh blood that will put Henry Tudor on the throne,” said a man whose accent
clearly bespoke his lineage, though Gareth did not recognize him.
    “But ‘tis not his Welsh blood that
grants him the right to the throne,” hissed one of the noblemen.
    Though Gareth’s knowledge of Henry
Tudor’s ancestry was sketchy at best, he knew the man to be a direct descendant
of John of Gaunt, the