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didn’t either. After all, he died only a few short months ago, and yet you haven’t once worn black to mourn him.”
    “You know I can’t see colors,” she reminded him. “For all I know, the gown I’m wearing is black.”
    “Your handmaiden dresses you every day, my lady, and she can see colors, so I don’t think that excuse will work.”
    “Then I’ll have to send my handmaiden to the stocks when I return to Worcester for her insolence, won’t I?”
    Lovell e knew damned well she wasn’t wearing black. And while it was true she couldn’t see colors at nighttime, and only barely during the day, that wasn’t why she wasn’t in mourning. She never liked the old goat whom she’d been betrothed and married to, and that was really the only reason. And when he died in his sleep from naught more than age, she thanked God silently rather than to have to ever couple with the man again.
    “No need to harm the young maiden,” said the guard. “As I don’t believe the man was worth mourning over anyway.”
    “That is the late Baron of Worcestershire you’re speaking of, if I must remind you,” she said, with the expected behavior of a lady. “And if I also must remind you, you now answer only to me until the king finds me a new husband.”
    Weldon settled himself next to her and motioned for a serving wench to bring wine. After the wench did so, he gave her a coin and sent her away.
    “Of course, Baroness,” he answered. “But deciding to take this journey now wouldn’t by any chance be to escape the new husband the king decides to send you, does it?”
    “I will abide by any decision my king makes, and I’ll not have you saying anything differently.” She held the wooden cup up to her lips and took a sip of wine.
    “Of course, my lady, please forgive me. It’s just that . . . ”
    “No more about that. Now, we have a job to do. This woman named Fenella not only killed my father, but she stole something from my mother that day that was very precious and cannot be replaced. I am here now to collect it.”
    “You mean the emerald ring your father gave her.”
    “No, not that, though I plan on collecting that as well. What I’m speaking of is something much more valuable and also dangerous in the wrong hands.”
    “What is it, my lady? You can tell me.”
    “It is . . . a book,” she answered. “A very valuable book. And my mother probably wouldn’t have even told me about it had not her health been faltering quickly lately. I need to find and return this item to assure she does not die from an addled mind.”
    “Forgiv e me for speaking freely, but it almost sounds as if you think there is something that can actually cure an addlepated mind. There is no such thing, my lady.” The guard chuckled. “Unless you are looking for a witch’s book of spells or something of the sort.”
    “How can you say that when you , of all people, knew how religious my father was?”
    “You are right. Please accept my apology and I will learn to hold my tongue.”
    “Apology accepted,” she said, taking a sip of wine. Oh, if the man only knew how close he was to the truth. But no one would suspect anything of the sort once the item she was looking for came out of hiding. After all, her mother had seen to it that her secret had stayed hidden when she hired someone to write those potion spells and medicinal charms into a book of prayer and devotion – the Book of Hours.
    But now, h er answer lie with the man named Onyx, she was sure of it. Because even if she never found the book, this man being the demon they say he is, may just know a spell or two that would help to clear her mother’s muddled mind and bring her back to normal.
    She pushed up from the table so quickly, that her gloves slipped from her lap and fell to the soiled rushes of the floor.
    “My lady, where are you going?” asked Weldon, scooping them up in one motion, and standing at her side. Her other guards were on their feet as well.
    “Sit