“We can’t leave…” she repeated, sharper, “because if you’re right, they won’t let us leave.”

The earl froze midstep, more alarmed than ever. “We must take that chance. Son, make as little noise at this as possible. Discretion is our only ally now. We go one by one, and leave what we can. If anyone hears we are trying to depart, Wendenal may expedite whatever plans he has for us.”

“I can help,” Arable said, rising to action. She could move about the castle as she wished, and could safely burn whatever few bridges she still had here. “Just tell me what you need.”

Margery’s eyes flared wide, drilling into her. She said nothing, just continued with that crazed withering stare Arable could not understand. The earl looked and sighed. “God’s mercy.”

“What is it?” Arable asked.

Margery signaled to her son to do something, but Arable could not tell what. “We cannot let you go, girl, surely you see that.”

For a moment, Arable wasn’t sure Margery was addressing her at all. She had not called her girl since their first meeting. “Let me go? Why would I go? I’m here to help.”

“Don’t play coy, you’re Wendenal’s whore.”

Arable gasped.

“You’ve been playing me all along, part of whatever plan this is. You’ve known about this letter for a month, and said nothing! I offered to take you in. What a fool I was to trust you, but that is a mistake I can correct now.”

This wasn’t supposed to happen. They had to understand she had nothing to do with this. Except she had, she had lied to Lady Margery. Lied about the letter.

“No, that’s not true,” she stammered. “William and I are over, you have to take me with you. Please, you don’t understand.”

Lady Margery curled her lips back, showing her teeth. “Don’t you cry at me, you insipid little cunt. You appealed to my feminine softness once with that appalling act and I assure you that it will not work again. I think perhaps I’ll cut your tongue out. I’m sure its loss will be mourned by half the men in Nottingham.”

All of Arable’s words rushed away, she choked and keeled down to her knees, gasping for air. Lady Margery knelt, her face suddenly terribly close and wretched.

“Now then, what do you suppose we are to do with you, Miss Burel?”

“We don’t have time for this, Mother.”

“If we leave, she’ll go straight to Wendenal.”

“I won’t,” Arable said, but it bubbled and caught in her throat.

“Just pack your things,” the captain took control. “I’ll handle the girl.”