Читать книгу Bride for a Knight - Margaret Moore, Paul Hammerness - Страница 11
ОглавлениеLater that evening, Roland strode across the muddy yard to the stable. His wife had retired after an excellent meal of beef stew with warm, soft rolls of dough floating atop that she called “lumplings.” Apparently she had shown Elrod’s wife how to make them, and they did indeed help to stretch out the portions of stew.
Not that he had said anything to Mavis about the lumplings, or the meal. He saw at once how tired she was and felt guilty that he hadn’t prevented her from wearying herself even more in the kitchen. However, he had not, and there was nothing to be done except eat as swiftly as possible, so she could retire all the sooner, as she had. And that meant without conversing.
He pushed open the door to the stable and went to the stall holding Hephaestus. His horse neighed a greeting, while nearby, Mavis’s mare shifted nervously. Sweetling was indeed a pretty creature, a fitting mount for such a beautiful woman.
An exciting, passionate woman who could make him forget everything except desire when he held her in his arms.
“Oh, it’s you, my lord!” the leader of the escort cried, popping up like a hound on the scent from behind the wall of the stall. Roland suspected he’d been sleeping there. “All’s well, my lord,” he assured Roland, who hadn’t asked.
Roland stroked his stallion’s soft muzzle. The animal nudged his hand, making him shake his head. “No, I don’t have an apple for you now.”
“Greedy, is he?” the soldier whose name, Roland thought, was Arnhelm, replied with a broad grin. “My lady’s Sweetling is just the same.”
The soldier went to the mare’s stall and, grinning rather weakly, kicked at something in the straw. Another soldier—shorter and stockier—rose, yawning. He snapped to attention when he saw Roland. “My lord!”
“You are taking care of my lady’s horse, I assume,” Roland calmly remarked.
“Aye, m’lord.”
“And you are?”
“Verdan, my lord.”
Roland noted their somewhat similar features, despite the difference in their builds. “Are you two related?”
“Brothers, my lord,” Arnhelm answered.
Brothers. That no doubt explained the kick.
He was about to dismiss them when he realized he had an opportunity he might want to take advantage of, and not only to delay going to the chamber he would be sharing with his wife. “Lord DeLac seems to have a good eye for horses.”
Verdan and Arnhelm exchanged glances, then Arnhelm answered. “Aye, m’lord. We never thought Lord DeLac would let my lady take her, even though she’s been my lady’s mare since my lady were fifteen.”
“And she is now...?”
“Nearly twenty, my lord, so past time she was married, so everybody said,” Verdan replied. “Lady Mavis had the boys buzzing around her from when she was just a lass, and with good reason. Pretty and pleasing, that’s our lady. A man could go far and not find another like her, so when we found out she was to be married, we all—”
Arnhelm shoved his brother with his shoulder, a censorious motion that Roland was also all too familiar with. Unlike Gerrard, however, Verdan seemed to appreciate that he should, perhaps, be quiet. “We all wished her joy,” he finished rather feebly.
“No doubt,” Roland said. “You two are sleeping here, I take it?”
“Aye, my lord, to guard the horses and the dowry,” Arnhelm answered. “I’m on first watch.”
“See that you stay awake, then,” Roland replied as he abandoned hopes for some time alone. He gave Hephaestus another pat on his nose, and left the stable.
As he crossed the yard, he paused a moment to look up at the window of the chamber where his wife had gone. The shutter was closed, but the slats allowed a little bit of light to shine through. His wife was still awake.
He was tempted to bed down in the stables with the soldiers on watch. He’d slept in the stables at home often enough, trying to avoid his father and brothers.
But then he’d been a lad fearful of his father’s fists and older brother’s slaps, strangleholds and punches, not a lord with men under his command. He knew full well what gossips soldiers could be. He wasn’t about to let rumors spread that Sir Roland of Dunborough did not sleep with his lovely young wife. He could imagine the speculation that would follow. At the very least, they would probably say that she had barred the door.
As he continued across the yard, he wondered about the other men who’d wanted Mavis. Well, any man who saw her would want her. But had she wanted any of them? She’d said she’d married him because she’d wished to; that didn’t mean there hadn’t been others before him whom she might have considered, too.
It didn’t matter what had happened in the past. She was his wife now. He need not be jealous of those other, unknown men.
He marched through the taproom, acknowledging the soldiers bedding down there with a nod before he mounted the steps and entered the bedchamber.
To find Mavis in the bed, with the covers up to her chin as if to shield herself from attack.
In spite of his determination to keep his distance, his heart sank. Nevertheless, he would maintain his dignity. He went over to the small table in the corner bearing a cup and pitcher. After pouring himself some water, he downed it in a gulp.
When he turned back, his wife was no longer in the bed. She stood beside it, wearing only a shift, her golden hair loose about her shoulders. She had her arms clasped in front of her and looked like an angel, while his thoughts were far from pure.
But he would resist the lust of his body. He would ignore the desire coursing through him like waters at the flood. He would not remember their wedding night or that afternoon beneath the tree, except for the shame he’d felt afterward. He wasn’t like his father. Or his brothers.
He must remember, too, that only that morning she had been weeping, so her smiles and her willingness to share his bed might only be for show. “Go back to bed, Mavis.”
She nodded and obeyed, but her expression...it was like seeing a flame snuffed out. It took all his resolve to go to the bed, take a pillow and pull off a blanket. “I shall sleep on the floor,” he said, regarding her steadily, watching for a flicker of relief.
Instead, she lifted the covers in a gesture of invitation. “You need not, my lord.”
Every particle of his being urged him to join her, to share her body and her bed, to believe that this exceptional woman wished to be his wife.
And yet he dare not give in, not if he would prove to himself that he was different from his family. “You are weary, my lady, and should rest.”
“So should you, and it need not be on the floor.”
He was not going to admit that she tempted him beyond all reason, or that he’d seen her crying. “I will sleep where I choose, my lady,” he replied.
Without another word, she turned onto her side and faced the wall.
That was for the best, he thought as he made his simple bed, lest she continue to try to persuade him and he prove too weak to resist.
* * *
The next morning, Mavis awoke to the sound of birds singing. The chamber was dim, for the shutters were still closed. It was bright enough to see that she was alone, however, and a pillow and folded blanket were on the end of the bed.
Rising, she sighed with both weariness and dismay. It had been a long, anxious night, half of it spent waiting to see if Roland would join her in the bed.
He did not.
She tried not to feel hurt or disappointed, although he had to realize now that making love wasn’t painful for her. And even if he didn’t want to make love with her, there was no need for him to sleep on the floor.
A soft knock sounded on the door and, after her response, Polly entered with a ewer of steaming water in one hand and linens in the other. “Beg pardon, my lady, but Sir Roland asked me to bring you water and linen to wash. He wants to leave as soon as you’ve dressed and had a bite to eat.”
That was more than he’d said to her. “Thank you.”
Polly set the ewer on the washstand. “Elrod’s still talking about them lumplings, my lady.”
“I’m glad he liked them.”
Polly grinned. “He likes that they’re cheap. I like that they’re easy. Your husband must be some proud of you, my lady.”
“I hope so,” she replied. “I can wash and dress without assistance, Polly. I’m sure you’re needed in the kitchen.”
“As a matter of fact, my lady, I am. Ylda could burn boiling water,” she said with a grateful grin before she bobbed a curtsy and hurried from the room.
Mavis watched her go with a sigh, then washed, combed her hair and put on her traveling gown. She picked up her cloak and made her way to the taproom.
Roland wasn’t there, either. Nor were any of the men. Elrod was, though, beaming at her as if she were the light of his life. “Ah, my lady! Here you are and looking lovelier than ever!”
The man would have done very well at court. “Thank you. Where is my husband?”
“In the yard overseeing your men saddling the horses and getting the ox into the yoke.”
Polly came into the room carrying a tray bearing a bowl, slices of thick bread, a smaller vessel covered with waxed cloth and two mugs. “Don’t stand there boring the poor woman, Elrod! Go out and see if you can help.”
As he started to obey, she set the tray down before Mavis. “Here’s porridge and bread and honey, and mead or ale if you like, my lady. Eat hearty now. It’s warm and the day’s cold, and I hear you’ve got a long journey ahead of you.”
A long, lonely journey, Mavis thought, unless Roland—
“It’s time to leave, my lady,” Roland declared from the door leading to the yard before Elrod reached it.
She rose immediately, as an obedient wife should. “As you wish, my lord.”
“She has to have something to eat, my lord,” Polly protested.
Although Roland nodded his agreement, he didn’t sit down. He stayed standing, his gaze upon her. Mavis quickly ate a slice of bread, sipped some mead, then got to her feet. “I’m ready, my lord.”
He nodded once again before reaching into his belt and pulling out a small leather purse. “For you, innkeeper,” he said, tossing it to Elrod, who deftly caught it. “With our thanks,” he added before he took Mavis’s arm to lead her into the chilly yard where the escort and horses waited.
Walking beside him, Mavis glanced at the sky. She was glad that there were no dark clouds today. She was also aware that the men were watching, and so were Elrod and Polly at the door, so she made sure that she smiled.
“Godspeed, my lord!” Elrod called out.
“God bless you, my lady!” his wife added.
After Roland helped Mavis onto her horse, she waved a farewell, wondering how soon she might travel back this way to visit DeLac or Cwm Bron. Roland, meanwhile, mounted Hephaestus, raised his hand, and once again the cortege started on the journey to Yorkshire.
* * *
This time, when they stopped to water the horses, Roland stayed with the soldiers, although keeping a little apart from them.
Nor was her husband any more inclined to speak to her as they traveled along the road. He was again riding several paces ahead, making it clear he had no wish for conversation.
What was she to make of this, and him? That he did indeed crave only her body? That she had been wrong to think there was more to his longing than lust? That she had only imagined that wistful look in his dark eyes? That she had been completely wrong about him?
Yet if he only lusted after her, surely she would have known it from the first, and especially on their wedding night. And he would be forcing his way into their bed, not sleeping on the floor.
He was a mystery, an enigma she was beginning to fear she might never understand.
One thing was different today, though. He sent Arnhelm and Verdan on ahead. She could think of a few reasons why: that he feared danger (which she truly hoped was not the reason) or to send word to Dunborough that he was on the way home, or to seek a place to stop for the night. She hoped it was the latter, but nevertheless prepared herself for another long day in the saddle. Fortunately, the right answer was indeed the last. They stopped much earlier at an inn, and it appeared the host was waiting for them.
Unfortunately, this inn was not quite so prosperous looking as Elrod’s. The main building was rather small, the yard untidy, the wall missing several stones. The host was a thin, sallow fellow, and none of the servants who came to help with the horses and the wagon seemed any healthier or more robust.
The taproom was dim, for the shutters were open only a little. Nevertheless, she could see that it wasn’t as clean as Elrod’s establishment. At least there was a good fire blazing in the hearth.
She joined Roland there, removing her gloves and tucking them into her belt, then holding out her hands to warm them.
She hadn’t intended to speak to Roland, but silence was not her natural state. “It seems we were expected, my lord. Was that why you sent Arnhelm and Verdan on ahead?”
“Yes,” he replied, looking around. “Elrod suggested we stop here. I begin to doubt his recommendation.”
“We can ride on and seek another,” she offered, and despite her fatigue.
He slid her a sidelong glance. “No. You are too tired.”
Mavis didn’t disagree nor did she say anything else. She sat quietly by the fire, waiting for wine and refreshment, while Roland sat just as silently beside her, staring grimly at the fire.
* * *
“He don’t look pleased,” Verdan said to Arnhelm as they entered the taproom along with the rest of the men after seeing to the horses.
They took their places on benches some distance from the hearth. It was colder there, but they didn’t want to get too close to Sir Roland.
Looking around, Arnhelm spoke quietly, so that only his brother could hear. “I’ve stayed in worse, and we could have found worse.”
Verdan nodded his agreement as the innkeeper—a reed of a fellow who’d been only too happy to have such a large company and for even less than the last innkeeper—hurried toward the keg that had caught Arnhelm’s eye the moment he’d walked in.
“Here, Halldie!” the innkeeper called out to a not-so-young serving wench who scurried into the room like a squirrel on the hunt for nuts for the winter. She had a pitcher in her hand and two goblets that she set in front of Lady Mavis and Sir Roland before she faced the innkeeper.
“Bring mugs for these men,” he ordered.
As she hurried to fetch them, the innkeeper addressed Verdan and Arnhelm. “So, where are you from?”
“Castle DeLac,” Arnhelm replied.
“That’s his lordship’s daughter, newly wed,” Verdan added.
“DeLac? You’re a ways from home,” the innkeeper replied as the serving wench returned with a tray full of clay mugs.
“We’re her escort to Dunborough.”
The tray of mugs crashed to the floor. The serving woman’s face flushed and her whole body began to shake, while the innkeeper regarded Roland with a glare of hate. “And who might he be, then?” he demanded.
Before Arnhelm or Verdan could answer, Sir Roland slowly got to his feet. “I am Sir Roland, Lord of Dunborough.”
The innkeeper straightened his slender shoulders. “Your men should have said who you were. You aren’t welcome here, neither you nor your wife nor your men!”
Lady Mavis turned as pale as snow while the stony visage of Sir Roland didn’t alter by so much as a wrinkle.
“Aye! Go! Get out!” the serving wench cried, pointing at the door.
Arnhelm rose and motioned for the other men to join him as he sidled toward the door, his gaze darting from Lady Mavis to Sir Roland, who did not move, to the innkeeper and the serving woman. “I am willing to pay—” Sir Roland began.
“I don’t give a tinker’s damn how much you’ll pay,” the innkeeper exclaimed. “We know the kind of man you are.”
“Aye!” the woman cried again. “Your father and your brother showed us! They stayed here, and played their disgusting games with my sister, a poor simple creature who’d never harm a fly. She’s with the holy sisters now, and likely to stay there for the rest of her life, thanks to them! So get out, all of you! I’d rather starve than take your money! Get out, get out, get out!”
Arnhelm quickly led the men outside. “Get the horses and the wagon,” he ordered, but he held his brother back. “There’s goin’ to be hell to pay now. We should have—”
“Sssh!” Verdan hissed as Sir Roland, grim as death, and Lady Mavis, white to the lips, came out into the yard.
“Let’s go see to the ox,” Arnhelm muttered, but before he could, Sir Roland called out his name.
“Heaven preserve me,” he murmured under his breath. There was no help for it, though. He had to face the wrath of the lord of Dunborough.
“Aye,” Verdan whispered as he followed his brother, ready to share the blame and take the punishment with him, too, whatever it might be, as they faced the irate nobleman.
“You didn’t tell the fellow who I was?”
Arnhelm kept his gaze focused somewhere over Sir Roland’s left shoulder as he answered. “I said I was looking for lodgings for a lord and his lady and their escort, my lord. He didn’t ask me your name or where you was from.”
Arnhelm waited, trembling, for he knew not what—but he didn’t expect Sir Roland to simply say, “Ride on to the next inn and see if there’s room for us. And this time, Arnhelm, make sure you tell them it is Sir Roland of Dunborough who seeks lodging there.”
Nearly fainting with relief, Arnhelm glanced at his brother before replying. “Yes, my lord. And Verdan?”
The nobleman regarded his brother coldly. “What of him?”
“Well, my lord, there might be thieves and outlaws on the road, and a man alone—”
“Take him, then. Just be quick about it.”
“Aye, my lord!” Arnhelm replied, turning smartly and hurrying to the stable with Verdan at his heels.
“That was a close one,” Verdan said after they entered the stable.
“Aye, and we’d best make sure we find a better place,” Arnhelm replied. “If there’s one who’ll take him.”
* * *
When the cortege left the inn yard, it was Mavis who didn’t want to talk. She’d been aware that Roland’s family was not held in high esteem and with good reason, yet the vehemence of the innkeeper and that serving woman’s reaction disturbed her greatly. Now she was glad that Roland rode ahead as she tried to decide what she would do if such a thing happened again.
But before they had gone very far, Roland came back to ride beside her.
Even more unexpectedly, he spoke. “Given my family’s reputation, I should have considered such a thing might happen. I would have spared you that humiliation.”
The admission was more than she’d expected from him. “Elrod was glad to have our custom.”
“We were closer to DeLac.”
That was true, and yet... “It wasn’t your fault, my lord, any more than your father’s reputation is your fault. In time, reputations can be changed, if good deeds replace the bad.”
“Do you truly believe that, my lady?”
“Indeed I do, my lord.”
He said no more, and neither did she as they continued for some distance, until Mavis wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit in the saddle. She was about to propose they stop, even if it meant making camp at the side of the road—not something to be wished at this time of year, even if it didn’t rain—when Arnhelm and Verdan appeared in the distance, riding back toward them.
“At last,” Roland muttered.
Unfortunately, as the two soldiers got closer, it was apparent from their expressions that they didn’t have good news.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Arnhelm said as he reined in, his expression as mournful as his brother’s, “but there’s no inn for the next ten miles willing to have you...us, for any amount of money.”
It seemed word had already spread about the cortege and who led it. Given their slower pace because of the wagon and the ox, a swift rider or even a fast lad on foot could have taken the news from that other tavern ahead of them.
Another glance at the sky confirmed that if they didn’t find a place to sleep soon, they would be benighted on the road.
Nor were the rest of the men pleased, judging by the few muttered remarks that reached her ears until a sharp look from Arnhelm silenced them.
If Roland heard, he gave no sign, although he was sitting even more stiff and upright in the saddle. “Join the rest of the men,” he said to Arnhelm and Verdan, then he motioned the cortege to begin moving forward again.
“What are we to do, my lord? Make camp at the side of the road?” Mavis asked, trying not to sound dismayed. “We can’t go much farther before nightfall.”
“No wife of mine will sleep out like a gypsy,” he grimly replied. “There is a manor nearby. I passed it on my way to DeLac. We shall seek shelter there.”
Mavis was too tired and too worried to voice any doubts or protest, but what if the lord of the manor didn’t want them, either?
They rounded a corner of the road and there before them lay what had to be the manor of a well-to-do farmer or minor nobleman. The low walls surrounding the manor house were made of stone, as was the house, and it had a slate roof. Several chickens clucked in the cobbled yard, and there was a stable and a good-sized barn, as well. A sprawling kitchen garden was at one side, and on the other, a pen holding six cows. In another meadow farther away, a herd of sheep grazed and bleated.
A young woman carrying buckets on a yoke from what might be the dairy toward a back door of the house paused and stared when Roland rode into the yard and dismounted. “Whose holding is this?” he asked.
“S-sir Melvin de Courcellet,” the girl stammered, the buckets swinging beside her.
“Tell him he has guests.”
“Y-yes, my lord,” she replied, setting down the yoke and running into the house.
“We will spend the night here,” Roland announced just before a plump man dressed in a long robe, his round face slightly greasy and with a chicken leg in his hand, came barreling out of the main door. “Who is this who dares to—”
He skittered to a halt and fell silent as his gaze took in Roland, the soldiers and Mavis. He tossed the chicken leg away and wiped his hands on his tunic. “Greetings, my lord. Who might you be?”
“I am Sir Roland of Dunborough,” her husband replied, “and we seek shelter for the night.”
“Roland of...” Sir Melvin cleared his throat and looked a little sick. “Dunborough, you said?”
“Yes. And this is my wife, Lady Mavis, the daughter of Lord Simon DeLac.”
Roland had never mentioned her father anywhere else, so this had to be an attempt to make the man more amenable. He might have done better to speak with less force and authority. From his tone, it sounded as if he was ordering Sir Melvin to take them in.
“DeLac, eh? His daughter, is it?” Sir Melvin said, running a nervous hand around the neck of his tunic. “Of course you’re welcome to stay, my lord. And your lady, too, and your escort. Just, ahem, allow me a moment to tell my wife how fortunate we are. If you’ll excuse me...” He hurried back inside.
“Perhaps, my lord, you should have asked, not demanded,” Mavis said.
“My wife will not sleep rough on the road.”
Behind them, Arnhelm and Verdan gave each other a wary look.
Roland went to help her down, but Mavis shook her head. “I’ll wait until I’m sure we’re welcome.”
“As you wish,” he replied, turning to look at the manor.
She noticed that the back of his neck and tips of his ears were red. Was he ashamed of what he’d done? Or as anxious as she after all?
When Sir Melvin came out of his house, he was followed by a slender, rather homely woman. “This is my wife, Viola. Please, come in and be welcome.”
“Thank you. We are most grateful for your hospitality,” Mavis said, getting down from her horse without waiting for her husband’s aid.
“Come along with me, my dear, and rest awhile,” Lady Viola said to Mavis. “You look done in.”
Mavis smiled, grateful as much for the heartfelt kindness in the woman’s voice as for the offer itself. “I am tired,” she agreed.
“We’ll join you in the hall for the evening meal,” Lady Viola said to her husband as they passed. “I leave it to you, Melvin, to see that Sir Roland’s men are taken care of.”
“Right you are, my dear! Now come along with me, Sir Roland, and we’ll get your horses settled and then your men. There should be room enough in the stable for your horses, and we’ve a building behind it for the ox and your wagon. Your men can all sleep in the hall.
“That’s a fine beast you’re riding, I must say! Speaking of fine, your wife is quite a beauty. Mavis, you said her name was? Lovely name, lovely girl. We’ve heard nothing of Lord DeLac’s daughter getting married, though...”
* * *
Lady Viola led Mavis to a small, comfortable chamber on the second floor of the manor house. Tapestries covered the walls and a large bronze brazier of glowing coals provided warmth. There were cloth shutters as well as wooden ones to keep out the cold and drafts. The furniture was simple, but well made, consisting of a bed, two low chairs near the brazier, a chest for clothing, a washing stand and a stool, where a maidservant sat rocking a cradle.
The servant, a rosy-faced, neatly dressed lass, rose when they entered.
“How is my lambkin, Annisa? Still asleep?” Lady Viola asked.
“Aye, but making little noises like he’ll be waking soon.”
“You go and eat, and I’ll tend to Martin until you return.” As the maid nodded and left the chamber, Lady Viola said, “Then it should be time for the evening meal.”
“I must thank you for your generous hospitality, my lady,” Mavis said at once. “I’m sorry you were forced to take us in, but we could find no other accommodation. Unfortunately, it seems that the reputation of my husband’s relatives has preceded us, and innkeepers are reluctant to give us shelter.”
“It’s indeed unfortunate that you’ve had such a reception so near our home,” Lady Viola replied, “but we’re happy to be of service.”
She spoke with such sincerity, Mavis believed her, and was even more grateful.
“I’m surprised your husband didn’t realize that might be the case.”
Mavis remembered what the groom had told her the first night Roland had arrived at Castle DeLac. “He only stopped once on the journey to DeLac, so he might not have encountered anyone who had any dealings with his family, or knew their reputation.”
“And you did not suspect there might be any such trouble?”
Mavis shook her head. “No,” she replied, suddenly feeling foolish. Sir Blane and Broderick had journeyed to DeLac. She should have expected that they’d behaved just as loutishly along the way as they had when they reached DeLac.
The babe began to fuss. Lady Viola picked up the squirming, swaddled baby with a tuft of light brown hair and, holding him to her shoulder, sat in the chair near the brazier. “Please, lie down, my dear, and rest. You look worn out.”
Although Mavis was tired, she sat in the other chair. “I assure you, Lady Viola, that Roland is not like his father and older brother. I’ve met them, and I can vouch for the difference.”
That was certainly true, especially when it came to their treatment of women.
When the baby continued to fuss, Lady Viola opened her gown and put the wee lad to nurse. “And the other brother, Gerrard? Have you ever met him?”
“No. Have you, my lady?”
“Only by reputation,” she replied. She studied Mavis a moment. “I would rather not be the bearer of bad tidings, but ignorance is no protection for a woman, so I will tell you what I’ve heard about Gerrard of Dunborough—that he’s devilishly handsome and devilishly clever, too, and without an honest bone in his body. He cheats at games of chance and refuses to pay merchants, or the tavern keepers whose wine he drinks, or the women he...” She delicately cleared her throat. “To put it in the simplest way, I am afraid, my dear, that he is a thorough reprobate.”
Although Mavis was dismayed to hear her husband’s twin painted in such a terrible light, she tried not to betray it. “Then he, too, is nothing like Roland. But since Roland is the lord, and Gerrard the younger, I should have little enough to do with Gerrard in Dunborough.”
“I hope so, my lady, yet that might make him all the more dangerous.”
“Surely there is little he can do to hurt me, and even if he tries, my husband will protect me.”
“For your sake, I would that it were so, but Gerrard’s a sly fox, my lady. He could try to make your husband hate you.”
“Why? What could he possibly gain?”
“From what I know of the men of Dunborough, his brother’s unhappiness may be enough.”
Mavis had no answer to that, nor did she wish to hear any more. “You’ve been blessed with a fine, healthy child,” she observed.
Lady Viola kissed the top of her nursing baby’s head. “Children are indeed a blessing and a joy, my dear.”
Mavis instinctively rested her clasped hands on her belly. “I would do anything to have children. They are our comfort and support.”
“Beg pardon, my lady,” Annisa said as she reentered the chamber. “The evening meal is ready.”
Lady Viola handed her sleepy child to the maidservant, who laid the baby on her shoulder to burp him.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t get a chance to rest after all,” she said to Mavis as she closed her gown.
“It’s quite all right,” Mavis replied, even though she wished she’d taken a nap so she wouldn’t have heard so much about her husband’s brother before they rejoined the men in the hall below.
