“He met Lord Rudby, who attacked him. My brother would not defend himself, and so was thrust through the body. Armstrong brought him to our house, and the doctor says he cannot be moved for a month at least.”
“Why was I not informed of this?”
“I did not know where to find you.”
“You, wench, surely did not know where to find me; but your brother knew that a message to his nearest superior would find me.”
“My brother, I have told you, was dangerously wounded, and had but one thing in his mind.”
“What was that? Lord Rudby’s daughter, most like.”
The rich colour mounted in the cheeks of Frances, but she answered slowly: “It was to have done with the task you had set upon him.”
“He committed it to your hands then?”
“He did.”
“What was the task I set him?”