by Gayle Callen
“For now, hauling masonry. We’re repairing the castle walls.”
“But—”
“Do not protest, or I’ll set you to scrubbing privies.”
He nodded hastily. “Might I return to my bedchamber now?”
“You may,” Edmund said, watching as the man hurried from sight, followed by the guard.
Gwyneth was waiting for her husband when he came down to the morning meal. She gave him an easy smile and sat down at his elbow as if he had not upset her last night. She made some casual remarks about their journey to Richmond, hesitated, and then finally took a deep breath.
“Edmund, I received a letter from my family yesterday, the first since I’ve been here.”
“You must have been relieved to hear from them.”
“At first, yes. But I am so worried about them—especially for their future. My father’s health is not good, although he always insists he is fine.” She tried not to let her stinging eyes give way to tears. She was a failure as a wife and she did not want to be so as a daughter. “Edmund, might I ask you a favor?”
When he nodded, she wet her lips. “My sisters and I never had luck finding husbands because my father could offer no dowry. Well, that is not quite true, because there was a merchant interested in me.”
He frowned. “You had a suitor?”
“He was as old as my father and felt he could use our noble connections to make his business more prosperous. He even offered money to my family.”
“And the Langstons took this away from you.”
She touched his arm and leaned toward him. “No, Edmund, you misunderstand. I didn’t want to marry him. He only wanted me because of the earl and for my work in his shop and for—” She broke off, knowing she was blushing, but unable to stop herself. “And in his bed,” she continued in a softer voice. “I almost married him for my family.”
“And instead you were forced into a marriage with me.”
“But I chose to accept,” she said, seeing how remote his expression had become. “I was fortunate. That is why I’m asking for your help. If you could see your way to offering a small dowry to each of my sisters, then they, too, might have a chance to have good lives.”
A few moments passed before he spoke. “Gwyneth, believe me when I say that if I could help, I would.”
She felt her stomach clench, and the last of her hopes began to fade.
“But the only money I have is your dowry, and I have already spent most of it on the castle. The remainder I’ve set aside to help my people survive the winter.”
“But…you’ve had this castle for several years. Why is there no other money?”
His expression hardened. “There was—once. And I trusted my steward with it. I thought he would want what was best for the future of the estate. But while Elizabeth was my wife, unbeknownst to me the Langstons controlled the steward.”
“You mean Martin Fitzjames. You had Geoff replace him.” She was almost afraid to talk, for fear he wouldn’t explain.
He nodded. “Last year they funneled two years’ worth of profits through him to their daughter. They pitied her, since she was married to me. By the time I returned from France, she had already spent it. I was forced to continue my mercenary work to keep the villagers fed after several years of bad harvests. The next time I returned, she was dead.”
“And you were injured.”
“Aye. And now I can do nothing but be a landowner and hope that the harvest is good.”
Another part of the mystery of her husband was revealed, and it frightened her. She looked into his cold face, his remote eyes, saw the way his hands were clenched where they rested on the table. “Do you wish you could still fight?” she whispered, feeling the hatred inside him as a physical presence in the room.
“Every day. ’Tis all I know. ’Tis what I excel at.”
“You’ve done good things here, Edmund,” she said, taking one of his fists between her hands. “And you’ve done it all without violence. You just have to be patient. I know you’ll succeed.”
He looked down at their clasped hands, then back into her face.
“Perhaps your faith is misplaced,” he said. “I cannot help your sisters.”
“Aye, but you are already helping everyone here. Did not Mrs. Haskell and a few of the maids spend the night? ’Tis a good sign.”
“But staying here still put them in danger. Your cousin was found chasing Nell through the castle.”
“Harold? Edmund, you don’t mean—how could he possibly—”
“He claims he thought she was attracted to him. I told him the rules he must abide by, and he apologized to the girl. In fact, since he has not made an appearance, I shall have to roust him out of bed.”
“Perhaps he has already risen and is hard at work.”
He only grunted his response.
She smiled at him, then returned to a thought she’d had earlier. “What about Martin Fitzjames?”
“I asked him to leave, but he claims to have nowhere to go. Where Elizabeth was concerned, he says the Langstons threatened to kill him, so he had no choice but to follow their orders. Now he claims that if he leaves the safety of my lands, they’ll follow through on their threat.”
“You are generous to allow him to stay, even though he seemed angry about losing his steward position to Geoffrey.”
“He was, which seems foolish, considering I could have banished him. But I put him in charge of organizing the foodstuffs and supplies that are already within the castle. He seems content.”
“Seems?”
“I find it hard to believe that losing such a position of power is so easy for him.”
Edmund listened to his own banter, the way he was delaying having to leave Gwyneth. He had barely slept the previous night. No matter how he resisted trusting her, he realized that he no longer believed she knew anything about the earl’s plots. The revelation eased something deep inside him. She was a genuine, loving woman, and he didn’t like seeing her sick with worry over her family. She was picking at her food absently, and when she looked at him, she seemed distant and preoccupied.
And the thought of her married to someone else had suddenly seemed intolerable. He was actually jealous of a man in her past. He could never send her back to London, where she’d once again be under the earl’s control. He put away his notions of annulling this marriage, of finding another wife. He would defeat the earl another way, perhaps by exposing him for what he was when the old man finally revealed his intentions.
Gwyneth would remain married to him.
“Gwyneth?”
It took her a moment to focus on him, but when she did, her smile warmed him. “Aye?”
“I cannot help your sisters with money, but I could help another way. If your father is ill, he will not be able to work much longer, will he?”
Her smile faltered and her eyes glistened. “He’ll do what he needs to. And my sisters and my mother are very strong.”
“If they are anything like you, then I have no doubt of that.”
She was watching him closely now.
“Ask them to come here,” he said simply.
The eyes he could lose himself in now went wide and uncomprehending—then full of so much hope that it was painful to watch.
“You—you want them to visit us? You would not mind?”
“They could live here permanently, if you would like them to. I could send several of the soldiers to deliver your letter and escort your family back here.”
Her tears spilled over, and with a glad cry she flung her arms around his neck. Edmund sat back in his chair and let himself enjoy her body pressed so tightly to his. He patted her back awkwardly when he heard her breath catch on a sob and then tightened his arms about her.
“I have been so worried about them,” she whispered against his neck.
“Then worry no more. When your letter is written, my men will be ready to leave.”
Immediately she pushed herself to her feet.
“I shall be finished in less than an hour.”
He laughed. “I think it might take them a bit longer than that to prepare.”
Pointing to the door, she said, “Then go tell them!” She clapped a hand to her cheek. “We’re starting to harvest the kitchen garden today—but we’ll need to prepare chambers for my family. There is so much to do!”
She gave him a swift kiss and ran out of the room.
After she’d gone, the cold reality of what he’d done hit him. Was he putting her in danger by keeping her with him? Surely if he let himself fall in love with her, the earl would use her against him. He couldn’t let that soft emotion touch him. It was better for her—and him.
As Gwyneth walked quickly through the great hall on her way to the kitchen, she took a moment to enjoy her wonder at Edmund’s change of heart. She had begun to fear he would never banish the ghosts of the Langstons that seemed to hover between them. It was such a wonderful sign that he wanted her family to join them. Surely he was beginning to trust her at last.
And the relief of knowing that her parents and sisters would never know hunger or uncertainty again made tears of gratitude spill from her eyes. She wiped them away, feeling as if the shadows that had lurked around every corner were now banished. Castle Wintering was coming to life again.
If Edmund had any worries about experiencing tender feelings for his bride over the next fortnight, they were quickly dispelled. He only saw her at supper, when she was so tired she sometimes fell asleep with her head on her arm. She was opening up chambers that hadn’t been touched in decades, since more and more of the servants needed rooms. She had them all busy preparing the castle for new residents. A constant hunt was on for furniture and more often than not, she was full of dirt and cobwebs from her searches through the undercroft below the main floor of the castle.
Edmund spent his days in the orchards overseeing the harvesting, and his nights frustratingly awake, trying to tell himself that if he actually managed to sleep with his wife, he wouldn’t fall in love with her, that he wouldn’t be the cause of even a moment of suffering for her.
At least the harvest was progressing on schedule, and he was pleasantly surprised at how well Harold Langston had begun to blend in. The accusations from Nell seemed to have changed him for the better, as if he’d never thought of his own arrogance before.
When a cold spell threatened and Edmund moved all the workers to the orchard, he often found Langston in the highest branches of an apple tree, doing the hardest, most dangerous work. He’d developed a legion of admirers, girls who probably liked his courtly manners and the proper way he talked. When dinner was called, he had companions on both sides of him.
Geoff informed him that Langston had even asked to spend a few hours training with the soldiers when he was able to find the time. With a sigh, Edmund allowed him an hour here and there.
While the harvest continued, Geoff occasionally took a few men out to explore every parcel of Edmund’s land, searching for opportunities before winter arrived. Farther up in the Pennines, other landowners had discovered that mining could enrich a castle’s coffers, and there was a chance Castle Wintering could benefit from the same.
Edmund wished he could enjoy the land’s resurgence, but always he felt the need for vigilance. He made certain Geoff was training the soldiers harder than ever. They could not afford to be unprepared for an attack by Earl Langston.
It had begun, and there was no returning to safety. Being a traitor made one feel as if everyone were watching. Sir Edmund and Lady Blackwell had been the most generous of souls, and their repayment would be betrayal. The guilt was almost too much to bear and made the nights long and sleepless. But it was too late to stop—too dangerous to stop. The earl’s instructions outlined the plan, and all that was left to do was follow it, but the fear was crippling and the risk of discovery ever nearer. Things were going to get worse.
On Sunday morning, when her family was due to arrive any day, Gwyneth persuaded Edmund to go to church with her. Mrs. Haskell had told her that there was to be a celebration on the village green afterward to give everyone a rest from the hard work of harvest. Gwyneth thought it would be good for her husband to make an appearance—and she convinced him of the same. She had realized that in her excitement over her parents’ pending arrival she’d neglected him. Her plan to seduce him had given way to exhaustion, something she wasn’t proud of.
The villagers stared in surprise when he limped into the church, but Gwyneth held his arm and smiled at all her new friends as they found their pew. After the service, everyone adjourned to the village green, where trestle tables and benches were being set up. The musicians were tuning their viols, the brewer was setting up a table to sell his ale, and another long table was turned into a banquet, the best dishes from every house in Swintongate.
Gwyneth had Edmund bring her basket from where she’d left it tied to Star.
He watched dourly as she pulled out pies and cakes. “I should have known you had something planned.”
She smiled and patted his arm. “I only had plans for amusement. And is this not enjoyable?”
She slid her hand in his arm and gave him a little squeeze, leaning her head against him for a moment.
“Hmm,” was all he said.
She looked around and was glad to see that the villagers were watching their intimate conversation with interest. She would make her husband a popular man by any means possible.
When the music started up, she stood at Edmund’s side and clapped her hands. When he frowned down at her, she only grinned. “My mother taught me to dance, but I’ll admit I have never done so except with my own sisters. They did say I was exceptionally talented at it.”
She thought he would laugh, but his mood seemed to darken, and he swallowed a rather large mouthful of ale before giving her a short bow and walking away. Her gaze followed him, but she didn’t allow her worry to show. If it was dancing that worried him, she would convince him later that night that a limp mattered little to her.
Gwyneth gladly accepted Geoffrey’s offer to dance, and soon she was traded from one partner to the next song after song. When even Martin Fitzjames, the old steward, claimed her for a dance, and then her cousin Harold, she hoped Edmund was watching. Maybe he would see that his people were learning to put the past behind them.
When she finally sat out a dance, she saw her husband standing at the brewer’s table, listening to something Prudence Atwater was saying. Gwyneth wished she could hear what was going on, especially when the merry widow gave an angry toss of her head and walked away. Gwyneth couldn’t help being curious, but she would not have Edmund think less of her by questioning him. But when Geoffrey sauntered over to Edmund and they both turned to watch the widow’s departure, Gwyneth allowed herself to wander closer under the guise of examining the peddler’s wares.
Edmund was shrugging. “I know not what she was thinking, Geoff. As if I would dance with her when I will not dance with my own wife.”
“But now she’s angry,” Geoffrey said, smiling as he accepted a tankard of beer.
“I’ve angered her before.”
“And you didn’t feel the need to share it with me?”
“’Tis not something you need to know.” Edmund drained his tankard and reached for another.
Gwyneth strolled away, relieved about Prudence but worried by how much her husband was drinking. She had hoped he would be drawn in by a country party, but still he kept himself on the fringes, talking little and wearing his ferocious frown. He wasn’t going to make friends with the villagers like that.
Hugh Ludlow, the soldier Lucy had befriended, wasn’t helping either, as he stood with a group of villagers. Gwyneth saw him deliberately turn his back to avoid having to talk to Edmund, and then when Edmund passed by, he seemed to be whispering something to his friends. Gwyneth strolled over to stand in their midst, and at least Hugh had the decency to seem embarrassed. After a moment of awkwardness, she pulled Lucy aside.
“Milady?” Lucy said uncertainly.
“Can you tell me what is going on with your Mr. Ludlow?”
“My Mr. Ludlow?”
“Is he saying unkind things about Edmund? If he is still angry that Geoffrey was promoted over him, I do so wish he would not involve the villagers.”
“I swear to you, milady, that I’m makin’ him see reason. And it is workin’. Just give me more time.”
Gwyneth studied her friend’s pale face. “Of course, Lucy. Thank you for your help.”
But she watched her walk away and could not stop her nagging sense of worry. Was Hugh perhaps not the man Lucy should be with? Surely the girl would tell her if he were harming her in some way?
That evening, the servants all remained in Swintongate. Geoffrey and Harold disappeared rather quickly, leaving Gwyneth alone with Edmund in the great hall. She watched suspiciously as he swayed before the hearth. She’d never seen him overcome by drink before.
Walking up to his side, she slid her arm through his and looked up. “Edmund, I could teach you to dance. No one would care that you had to limp.”
He smiled and shook his head. “I already know how to dance. I used to be quite good.”
“Really?” she asked with delight, knowing he had to be drunk to compliment himself like that.
He arched a brow. “Do you doubt me?”
He caught her about the waist and whirled her out into the center of the great hall. Though his lame leg was awkward, his grace in fencing carried over into dance.
When they stumbled to a halt, she laughed and clutched his waist.
“I cannot do the leaps with a leg that won’t bend,” he said ruefully. “Such things were probably strange from a man my size anyway.”
“I would have liked to have seen it,” she said softly, not releasing him. She was thankful that he didn’t seem too depressed by the party. In fact, he hadn’t even pushed her away, which started her thinking about a drunken man’s lack of inhibitions.
When he staggered and clutched the table for support, she said, “Let me help you to your bedchamber.”
