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With a sigh, she rested her chin on her hand. “My lady’s long maidenhood was…a combination of faults,” she said slowly. “The earl and countess enjoyed their eldest daughter, and did not want to lose her so soon. I will admit that Lady Elizabeth…flourished under the attention. Everyone thought there was plenty of time to marry. Her betrothed enjoyed life in London, and was also in no hurry. But now they’re all dead,” she said, her voice full of grief and even bitterness.

“I am sorry to hear that,” John said. He glanced at Philip to see his reaction, but his friend was pretending deep interest in his meal, giving her some measure of privacy.

Although John knew the rest of the story, he pretended otherwise. “So your mistress no longer has the protection of a betrothal?”

“Nay, the two families planned well.” She spoke tiredly now, as if it no longer mattered. “Lady Elizabeth is to marry the heir—whichever brother it is.”

“But surely she is sad at losing the man she thought she’d marry for so many years.”

With a sigh, she murmured, “I was often their chaperone. He was a romantic, handsome man, and his poetry made my lady happy.”

“Poetry?” John repeated, wondering how he was going to compete with such a memory. He already knew that his visage would never be as pleasing as William’s, especially now with the scar. But poetry? He was a man of armor and horse, of a traveling life since he had sixteen years. What did he know of the wants of noblewomen?

“The last brother is all that is left,” Anne continued. “He is in Normandy somewhere, and probably did not receive the letter she sent him months ago. He might not even know that he is betrothed!”

“Surely travel back to England takes time,” he said, hoping to comfort her. “He might very well be on his way.”

“There is that fear, too,” she said forlornly.

John stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“If he comes with an army, there might be bloodshed. Lady Elizabeth could not live if her people were hurt in defense of her.”

“How would she expect her betrothed to rescue her?”

“By marrying her, of course! By proving before all who he is. The Russell name is an old and honored one.”

Not anymore, he thought bitterly. Obviously no one here had yet heard of the neglect of Rame Castle. Once again, he remembered how betrayed he still felt by his elder brother. William had been the one who could do no wrong in the eyes of his parents. And now John was going to be tainted by his brother’s deeds. He had to make things right. How could he come to Lady Elizabeth only as a poor husband? His pride would not stand for it. King Henry would need proof that John would be capable of ruling such a vast estate.

And the proof would be in gathering Alderley’s soldiers and convincing them to follow him to aid their mistress, should it come to that. He was a man who knew how to command; he could lead men—but what if that turned Lady Elizabeth against him?

“Perhaps John Russell does not have the same honor as his elder brother had,” Anne said sadly. “After all, he hasn’t returned to England in many years. It is as if he forgot his family.”

John took a deep breath and tried to control his fury. This maid was ignorant of all that had occurred—as was poor Lady Elizabeth, trapped in her tower.

“Remember that Lord Russell is a third son,” John said, “who probably had no hopes for family property or wealth. Perhaps he had to earn it all on his own.”

She frowned, appearing undecided. Finally she stood up. “I will tell my mistress your words. Excuse me while I see to her.”

“Of course.”

When she had gone, Philip leaned toward him and whispered, “It sounds like Lady Elizabeth is ripe for rescue. At least you don’t have to worry about being unwelcome.”

“If only I could speak to Lady Elizabeth directly, to gauge the kind of woman she is.”

“Perhaps you should confide in her maid?”

John frowned in disbelief. “A woman I have only known for one day? She is already trapped in a dangerous situation. I will not give her knowledge that might endanger her—or us—further.”

John watched Anne leave the hall for the kitchens, and he noticed that he wasn’t the only one doing so. The bearded soldier would have to be dealt with.

Philip looked around the hall, wearing an expression of anticipation. “You know, the League could already be here.”

John rolled his eyes. “If there really is a League, rather than a few men who think themselves important.”

Philip gaped at him. “How can you doubt it?”

“Please don’t bring up your grandmother’s rescue again.”