by Jody Hedlund
“You’re above most women.”
“And you know how to flatter better than most men.”
“I’m not flattering you, Sabine.” The sincerity of his tone warmed me like a drink of spiced cider. “I was wrong to consider marrying you for your wealth. I didn’t want to. When my mother first presented me with the option, everything within me cautioned against using a woman for what she could give me. I knew I shouldn’t.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” I said, swiping at a glob of butter and cheese sliding off the edge of bread and licking it from my finger. “We both know that marriage arrangements usually have about as much beauty and love as a farmer purchasing a mate for his sow.”
“Even so, I abhor the thought of using a woman for my own gain.” He took another large bite of his cheese and bread, his brows furrowing in dark frustration.
I wanted to tell him that he didn’t strike me as the sort of man who was out for financial gain. But at the click of the pantry door, both of us jumped away from the table. For the first time since entering the storage room, I realized how inappropriate it was for me to be alone with him in this secluded place.
As if recognizing the same, Bennet crossed the cellar in two long strides and bounded up the steps, skipping several in his haste. He pushed against the door, but it held firmly in place. With a frown, he rattled the handle and then shoved it again.
“It is I, Sir Bennet,” he said through the door. “I’m in here. Please open.”
We both waited, unmoving. I strained to hear any noise on the other side. Was someone there?
Bennet tugged on the door again, but it didn’t budge. He pounded, called out, and barged into it with his shoulder. I nibbled at the last remains of my bread and cheese and watched his efforts.
Finally, he turned, his expression grave. “It would appear that we’ve been locked in.”
Chapter
10
I EXAMINED THE DOOR AGAIN. WAS THERE A WAY TO TAKE it apart from its hinges?
“If we’re to be locked up,” Sabine remarked between mouthfuls, “at least we won’t go hungry.”
I unsheathed my knife and stuck it through the crack in the door, attempting to wedge it open. I was puzzled by the whole incident. How could it have closed? And secondly, how could it be stuck? The door didn’t have a lock or latch.
Had someone intentionally barricaded me inside the pantry? And if so, why?
I poked my knife through at all possible angles, but the door didn’t move.
“I think we might as well resign ourselves to the fact that we’re imprisoned here,” Sabine said. She’d dipped her gloved finger into the crock of butter and proceeded to lift a dollop to her lips.
I watched her with humor. “I’m beginning to wonder if you planned this so that you could eat butter to your heart’s content.”
“How’d you guess?” She smiled and proceeded to lick the butter off her glove.
I still marveled that she’d forgiven me so readily. Most ladies I knew would have held a grudge, or at the very least made me suffer for as long as possible. Sabine was gracious and kindhearted. She might not have been the type of woman I gravitated toward under normal circumstances, but if I had to have an arranged marriage, she certainly would be a fair and interesting match.
I spun back to the door and put the thought quickly from my mind. After Sabine had left me this morning, I had spent all day thinking about what a louse I’d been to even consider marrying her for her dowry. The hurt in her features and the betrayal in her eyes had haunted me for hours. I’d been unable to rest, unable to think of little else but how I’d harmed her with my selfishness.
Letting guilt slap me in the face once more, I studied the door. Could I break it down? I rammed my shoulder against it hard, but it didn’t give.
“Is the thought of being shut in here with me so detestable that you’ll stop at nothing to escape?” Even though her voice was laced with humor, there was something that hinted at hurt.
The very question pierced me to the core. I hopped down the steps. “My lady,” I said, stopping before her. “In spite of our misunderstanding behind the purpose of your visit to Maidstone, I have never once had to pretend to enjoy your company.”
“You haven’t?” There was an insecurity in her tone I didn’t understand.
“I’ve enjoyed every second of every minute of our time together.”
One of her brows rose as though she doubted me.
“Truly.” I took her hand in mine, hoping she could feel my sincerity. “In fact, I’d consider it a great honor if you counted me as a friend. I feel as though we share so many interests, and it’s been a pure delight to finally find someone with whom I can speak freely, who understands me and enjoys the same type of conversations that I do.”
“Does that mean you’ll no longer be pursuing courtship? That you only want to be friends?”
As hard as it was to let go of the security of Maidstone, to face the real possibility of generating further animosity with Lord Pitt for the debts we owed him, I couldn’t marry Sabine—or any woman—for selfish reasons. “I give you my word.” I squeezed her hand through her glove, suddenly wishing I could feel her skin against mine instead of the linen she always wore. “I’d rather lose Maidstone than sacrifice my honor in how I treat a lady.”
She chewed another bite of bread slowly, regarding me as she did. I could see the questions flit through her speckled eyes—eyes that were always so expressive and alive. “So you don’t want to marry me anymore?”
Did I catch a flicker of disappointment? I hesitated in my response. “You deserve better than someone marrying you for your dowry.”
Her lashes fell to her cheeks, hiding her eyes, and somehow I sensed I hadn’t given her the answer she’d desired. But what did she want to hear from me? What more could I say?
“At least now you’re free to marry Lady Elaine.” She pried her hand out of mine and moved away from the table to perch on the edge of an upturned barrel.
“Lady Elaine? Why would I marry her?” I sat down on the barrel across from Sabine.
“Because she’s beautiful, graceful, and beautiful. Did I mention she’s beautiful?”
There was no doubt about it: Lady Elaine was lovely, almost as much as my mother. I couldn’t deny that I’d always noticed her flawless features. Nor could I deny that I’d admired them. I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter how pretty she is. I can’t marry her.”
“Why?” Sabine’s tone was suddenly hard. “Because she doesn’t have a large enough dowry?”
“True. As the younger daughter, she doesn’t have a large dowry,” I admitted. “But even if she had a sizeable one, I still wouldn’t be able to reconcile myself to a union with her.”
“How can you possibly resist her pretty face?” Sabine taunted as she swung her legs back and forth.
“I can resist just fine.”
“Is that why you stare at her nonstop and drool every time you’re in the same room?”
At the note in her voice, I grinned. “So you are jealous.”
Her feet came to a standstill. “Why would I be jealous?”
“Because you want my attention all for yourself.”
She gave a half snort and began to swing her feet again. “I’m perfectly happy without your attention. You can go ahead and marry her and have lots of very beautiful babies together.”
Sabine was jealous. I wasn’t sure why the thought warmed me, but it did. I also wasn’t sure why I suddenly felt obligated to tell Sabine my history with Lady Elaine. But for a reason I couldn’t explain, I wanted to reassure her.
“Lady Elaine is my sister-in-law,” I said, my mind returning to all that had happened to my brother in the past year.
Sabine’s eyes widened. “She’s married to your brother?”
“No. But her sister was.” Was. That word reverberated somberly in my soul.
“So Lady Elaine is related to you through marriage?”
&n
bsp; I nodded, picturing my brother in his large bed, alone, his eyes bloodshot, his breath rank with the stink of beer, his body sour from weeks without grooming. “I’ve known Lady Elaine for many years. And she’s always been like a sister to me.”
“She certainly doesn’t think of you as a brother.”
“Even if I liked her as a potential suitor—which I don’t—I could never consider marrying her. Her constant presence here would be a reminder to Aldric of his mistakes and all that he’s lost.”
Sabine’s expression softened, and her eyes rested upon me with understanding and patience, as though to say she wouldn’t push me to share more than I wanted, but she was here to listen.
Suddenly, I was overcome with a need to tell her everything. So I settled back onto the barrel, leaned against the wall, and began to share Aldric’s story. I hadn’t lived at Maidstone during the greater portion of recent years—not since I’d gone to live with the Duke of Rivenshire as a young boy. But I’d visited home on occasion, particularly for momentous occasions, such as the day my brother, the Baron of Hampton, had married Lady Elaine’s sister, Giselle.
Giselle had been just as beautiful as Elaine. My brother had been madly in love with her, had adored the very ground she’d walked upon. In his mind she could do no wrong, speak no ill, and want for nothing. At first Giselle had seemed to appreciate, even soak in, the avid devotion of her new husband. But eventually, as time wore on, she began to feel smothered by Aldric’s constant hovering. As she started to resist some of his attention, however, he’d only crowded closer.
From the way Mother had explained it to me, the more Giselle tried to flap her wings, the more Aldric had clipped them, until she had nowhere to go, nowhere to fly, no freedom to even flutter without Aldric there monitoring her.
Mother hadn’t defended Aldric. She’d only watched in sadness, praying for the newlyweds, knowing that sometimes marriages must endure difficulties in order to come out stronger in the end. After Giselle announced that she was with child, things had gotten better for a time. The two had reconciled—at the very least, Giselle had stopped fighting against Aldric’s overprotectiveness.
But then, as the time drew nearer for the baby to be born, Aldric hadn’t wanted to let Giselle out of his sight, hadn’t allowed her to go anywhere or do anything without him. Finally, one night, Mother overheard them fighting, and the next morning, when everyone awoke, Giselle was gone.
“She was gone?” Sabine leaned forward on the edge of her barrel.
I swallowed the ache that lodged in my throat whenever I replayed the tragedy. “She ran away during the night. The next day, Aldric was in a panic. He sent search parties everywhere.”
“Did they find her?”
“Not in time. She died giving birth to the baby.”
Sabine had the grace not to gasp or fall back in horror. Instead she reached across the span between us and gripped my hand.
I squeezed hers in return, grateful for her understanding. “She apparently made it to a deserted cave in the hill lands north of Maidstone, at least two days walk by foot. They said the baby was breech—that without help, Giselle couldn’t deliver it. She probably bled to death during labor.”
“And Aldric’s been grieving ever since?”
I nodded. “He blames himself. And rightly so. But nevertheless, he’s only made things worse—much worse—on the people who love him.”
“Then he’s the cause behind Maidstone’s financial woes?”
“In the past year since Giselle’s death, he’s gambled away every last piece of silver in Maidstone’s coffers and then accumulated an enormous debt.”
Sabine was quiet for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. I guessed she was finally figuring out why my family needed her fortune.
“The neighboring lords have grown tired of waiting for Aldric to pay what he owes. Lord Pitt is particularly ruthless. So Mother called me home to help her find a solution to the problem.”
“And the solution was to marry a wealthy woman?”
“Unfortunately, it’s the only option—at least that we could see.” I was glad for Sabine’s hand in mine. For a reason I couldn’t explain, the solidness of her hold and her intelligence brought me a fresh measure of relief and comfort. I felt as though I wasn’t alone anymore, that I had a new friend, someone I could unburden my heart to, someone who would listen and understand.
“Why doesn’t Aldric marry a rich woman?” she asked. “If he caused the problems, why not make him do the dirty deed?”
“It’s not a dirty deed,” I said. “At least not with you. He’s not worthy of you.”
“And you are?” The teasing lilt returned to her voice.
“No, I’m not worthy either.” I intertwined my fingers through hers, liking the way her long ones fit with mine. If only her glove wasn’t in the way of our skin meshing.
“I’m just jesting,” she said softly. “You’re a good man. You’ll make a fine husband to some fortunate lady one day.”
Just not to her, I thought with strange sadness. I hadn’t planned on feeling this way about the prospect of not being able to marry Sabine. Even if she would have me, my ulterior motive for needing her wealth would linger at the edges of our relationship. She would always wonder if I’d married her for what I could gain. And I would too.
The truth was I could never marry Sabine. She’d never be able to completely trust me. And I didn’t want to live the rest of my life in her debt. I didn’t want her to know me as a weak man who’d had to grovel for her wealth in order to save my family rather than rely on my own strength and ingenuity to save Maidstone.
We were both silent, our hands still intertwined. Neither of us seemed inclined to break the connection. The only sound was the scuttle of a mouse in the dark corner of a shelf somewhere. Finally, Sabine spoke. “Even if we don’t get married, I can still help your family.”
“I won’t accept your money,” I started.
“Then let me buy some of the pieces of artwork—”
“No.” I released her hand and rose from the barrel.
“Just a few—”
“No.” My voice rose. I stalked away, every muscle tensing at the thought of parting ways with the family heirlooms that had been in our safeguard for generations. “I won’t sell them off to people who don’t know their value or care about their worth.”
“I told you, I’ll pay you more than what’s fair.”
“It’s not just the value I’m concerned about.” I heaved a frustrated sigh. “It’s that I don’t think anyone will ever be able to cherish and take care of them the way my family has.”
Sabine didn’t say anything, and I was afraid that perhaps I’d offended her. I turned to face her and offer an apology, but before I could say anything, she spoke. “You’re right.”
My mouth stalled around my next words.
She continued. “As much as I want to buy some of the pieces to add to my collection, I have to reluctantly agree with you. They should stay here at Maidstone.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her right.
“It’s clear how much you love every item and how much they mean to your family. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, your family has been given the task of preserving the rare works so that future generations will be able to appreciate them as well.”
Her words summed up exactly how I felt. “Thank you for understanding.” I let the tension ease from my shoulders.
“I might understand, but that doesn’t mean I like it or that I’ll stop pestering you about it.” Her lips quirked into a half smile. “And don’t be surprised if I pout now and then or even throw myself on the ground kicking and screaming in protest.”
“Then how about if I give you an open invitation to visit Maidstone whenever you feel a temper tantrum coming on?”
“Perhaps I shall take up permanent residence in the art room.”
“I won’t prevent it.” My words came out more flirtatious than I’d intended. As h
er lashes fell against her cheeks, I silently berated myself. I wasn’t here to seduce her. I needed to act honorably toward her.
I started again toward the door, knowing I had to get us out of the pantry before anyone discovered us here together alone. We’d already spent too much time by ourselves as it was. If we were together much longer, we’d raise suspicions.
I climbed the steps. At the landing, I paused, studied the door, then rattled it again.
“If you aren’t trying to escape from me,” she asked, “why are you so intent on breaking down the door?”
“I’m hoping to preserve your reputation, my lady.” I jerked on the handle. “If we spend the whole night together in here without a chaperone, people are bound to think that I’ve compromised you.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
I didn’t respond. I knew as well as she did that due to our noble position we had to care what people thought. As an unmarried young woman, she had a great deal to lose. If her reputation was tarnished, her task of finding a husband would become nigh impossible, and I had no wish to become the cause of such an ill fate.
For some time, I banged and rattled and pried at the door again, but to no avail. Finally working myself into a sweat, I turned to find her watching me with amusement. “You might as well admit you have limits to your strength. There are things even the noblest of knights in the land simply cannot do. It’s a shock to you, I know. But better you learn this lesson now than later, when you’re truly in danger.”
Even though I could tell she was attempting to lighten the mood, I didn’t like this situation in the least. And I was frustrated that I couldn’t use my strength to free us.
She patted the barrel I’d deserted. “Come on. Sit down. Let’s make the most of our predicament.”
I glanced to the door again.
“I promise I’ll even let you regale me with the history behind the painting of Saint Thomas of Aquinas, which I know you’re dying to do.”
Her smile was too inviting to resist. I reluctantly stepped away from the landing and prayed that in the morning I wouldn’t regret not trying harder to free us from the room.
