9
Peering through the diamond-shaped panes of the upper gallery window, Jaime winced each time she saw Malcolm’s body shift in the approaching cart. She could see the physician upbraiding the carter each time his human cargo jounced, but from the vacant expression on the driver’s face, Master Graves’s words hardly seemed to be penetrating the thick-necked man’s bald head.
“Go slower,” she said quietly, unaware of the auburn-haired woman coming up behind her. “There’s a hole ahead. Go to the right of the lane. Don’t you see it? Go to the...Oh! By the Virgin, are you trying to kill him?”
“Aren’t they doing a satisfactory job of it, Jaime?” the countess of Surrey asked, looking out the window as the cart lurched out of view beneath them.
Jaime blushed crimson, embarrassed at having forgot
