with surprise and then they glowed with mischief.
“Evan! Evan, come out at once before I throttle yer bones, and ye know I will.”
The boy put a finger to his lips, his eyes wide and playful.
Madeleine started to rise but he placed a hand upon her wrist and tugged her back down.
“Evan, ’tis the last time I take ye anywhere with me. Oh, go hop in the water and swim away with the mermaids, for all I care.”
The boy burst out laughing at her words and, immediately, a petite woman leaped from around the corner. She took a step back when she saw Madeleine crouched there. Then she spotted her son.
“Evan, me boy, ye are the bane of me existence. If I could give ye back to God in His heavens, I would. I’d say to Him, ‘Mister God, me Lord, sir, ye’ve made a dreadful mistake. Ye meant to give me a good boy, I’m sure, but somehow me good lad was replaced. Instead, I’ve got the silliest rascal, a tyke descended from elves, no doubt. Could ye please let me return this imp?’ And Mister God will say to me, ‘Now, Gwenith, I only give ye what ye deserve.’ So of course, I’d say back to Him, ‘Mister God, I . . .”
The boy squealed, throwing himself into his mother’s arms.
“There, now,” she cooed to him. “Maybe God didn’t make such a mistake after all.”
Madeleine watched all this in bewilderment. She rose, wiping her tears, then blurted the first thought that entered her mind. “You’ve got the most gorgeous hair!”
The woman before her laughed heartily. “I’m delighted to find out ye like this red mop of mine. Gwenith’s me name.”
Madeleine smiled at her. “I am Madeleine Bouchard.”
Gwenith grinned at her. “Pleased to meet ye, Madeleine Bouchard.” She poked Evan in the ribs.
“Pleased to meet ye,” the young boy echoed. “Mama, can we go now? Ye said ’twas a nasty place here.”
“Then why’d ye run off from me, lad?” Gwenith scolded.
Evan considered this. “Why, to protect ye, of course. To keep all the bad ’un’s away.”
Gwenith’s rich laughter tinkled musically. “Ye are a scamp, me little one. A charming one, but a scamp, nonetheless.” She squeezed his shoulder affectionately as she glanced across at Madeleine.
“Well, we must be off.” Gwenith began to turn as a tear slowly trickled down Madeleine’s cheek.
Gwenith peered at her with concern. “Are ye lost, Maddie? Did ye fight with yer Mister Bouchard?”
“No,” Madeleine said hastily. “Mister Bouchard is . . . well . . . he’s . . .” Her voice trailed off and suddenly her tears began flowing freely.
“There, there, me girl,” the young woman said, and placed an arm around Madeleine’s waist as she balanced the squirming boy in the other. “Ye look like ye could use a friend, love.” She gave Madeleine a squeeze.
“’Tis a long story.” Madeleine sighed. “I find my plans have . . . changed. I’m not sure what to do, and I don’t know London very well.”
“Some things are not even worth discussing,” Gwenith told her, looking Madeleine square in the eyes. She paused a moment, and Madeleine saw she was sizing her up.
“I’m a mummer,” Gwenith shared. “Evan and me, we travel all around the south performing our little plays. Sometimes,” she confided, “being on the road is the perfect way to forget yer troubles. Would ye care to join us? Can ye act or sing a bit?”
Madeleine’s thoughts were in a swirl. She had nowhere to go, not a friend in all of England. She also had no way of escaping to France, at least not at the moment. Impulsively, she said, “I do sing and play the lute.”
Gwenith looked about and frowned. “Have ye a lute?”
Madeleine shook her head, feeling a flare of anger heat her cheeks, knowing her lute was in Lord Montayne’s hands.
“If ye’ve money to buy one, then let’s do it and be off. We must meet up with Farley tonight, for we leave in the morning. Are ye game, Maddie Bouchard?”
Madeleine smiled at her wearily, then said a silent thank you to the Living Christ. Things were beginning to look up.
Chapter Five
Garrett pulled his new cloak about him as the wind suddenly gusted. The April day was gray and bleak, much like his mood. The overcast skies were threatening London with rain at any moment. He nudged Ebony lightly, spurring the horse on before the coming storm soaked them.
He guided the steed through the tight streets that already teemed with people,