Tori Phillips by Midsummer's Knight Page A

ass-licking curs! When I gave them my custom, they were happy enough to extend my credit twice over. The name Fitzhugh was well-known among the tailors and jewelers of London Bridge. My business was their boundless pleasure.” He poured himself more wine.
    Tod stuffed handfuls of gold chains into the toes of Scantling’s white satin dancing slippers. Just one of those chains would have fed Tod’s brothers and sisters for a year or more. “You have always had good taste in fashion, my lord,” he murmured.
    “Aye, and now, thanks to the news of my aunt’s marriage flying about the city, I shall be reduced to rags and tatters.”
    When hell freezes over. Tod ground his teeth as he rolled up one silken pair of hose after another. The spoiled son of Lady Kat’s dead sister had never known a minute of want, thanks to the good lady’s tender heart for taking in the sniveling boy.
    “Did my lady stop your line of credit at the goldsmith’s?” Tod ventured to ask. He knew he might get another cuff on the head for the impertinence of the question, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
    “Not yet, but my creditors have decided not to wait. They want payment in full now, before Cavendish wraps his grasping hands around Kat’s estate, and stops all my payments cold as coffin nails.” Scantling sipped his wine as he drummed his fingers on his knee. “One of the fat-lipped churls even insinuated that my days of spending have come to an end.”
    And then there will be the devil to pay. Tod shuddered inwardly at the thought. He piled Scantling’s velvet bonnets one on top of the other, expertly curling the feathers of one inside the crown of the next in the stack.
    Sir Fenton pulled on his lower lip—a habit that indicated deep thought. “It appears that my plan to sour this pernicious nuptial between the bride and groom has missed its intended mark. I had hoped one or the other of the couple would have taken my advice to heart, and would have persuaded the king to change his mind. Instead, I have news from Bodiam that both parties find each other pleasing.” Leaning forward, he skewered Tod with the pinpoints of his hard dark eyes. “‘Tis not pleasing at all to me. God rot Kat’s soul! Aye, and Cavendish’s too! I will not be made a fool’s hat stand by either of them. Nor do I intend to be dealt out of my uncle’s inheritance. ’Tis mine!”
    Tod hunched over the saddlebags and whispered a quick prayer to mend the terrible curse of his master. Lady Kat was too kind. If Tod possessed half her spark and fiber, he would leave this monster’s service immediately. But Tod knew himself to be a coward. As vile as Sir Fenton could be on occasion, he still gave Tod a far better living than the boy would have had as the third son of a pig farmer.
    “You have a plan, my lord?” he asked, struggling to buckle up the bulging pack.
    “Aye. We will steal out this night, and ride for Bodiam. Don’t turn your mouth down at me, boy, or I’ll do you a turn that will leave you more thankful to walk instead of ride. There are only a few hours of darkness these nights, and I know the way well. Once there, I will speak with honey words to my aunt, expressing my desire for her happiness and my concern about the tedious management of her estate.
    “On my way back to the barge, I stopped at the Inns of Court, and had one of those watery-eyed students draw me up a paper of guardianship. ‘Tis a bastard piece of composition, but ’twill suffice. If Kat is as besotted as my sources tell me she is, she will sign the paper in a twink, then return to the arms of her lover. After that, I care not a fig if she swells up with a bellyful of brats. The estate, the lands and the rents will be in my care. Cavendish can whistle up the chimney!”
    Hoisting the first pack over his shoulder, Tod sagged under its weight. He dropped it in the corner, then returned to fill the second.
    Sir Fenton rose from his seat, then