The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2)

by Alice Coldbreath

  “Your father give me a handsome tip,” she admitted. “For ‘chaperoning’ you, he called it.” She sniffed.

  “He made no mention of it to me,” Lenora admitted.

  “Probably ashamed of his previous shabby treatment!” said Berta with malicious glee. “Mistress Berta says he. I would be remiss if I wasn’t to reward you for your care of my child.”

  “Have you had any more thoughts about The Grange?” Lenora asked casually. “Only I intend riding out there tomorrow. After my relations have left. They leave late morning.”

  “On what pretext?” Berta asked, narrowing her gaze. “Delivering me up like a sacrificial lamb to them savage brothers?”

  Lenora gave a short laugh. She could hardly imagine anyone less lamb-like. “My excuse is that I am delivering my husband’s squire, my cousin Kit.”

  “Best save me for your next visit’s excuse then,” Berta said irritably. “For I still ain’t made up my mind to it!”

  “Very well, you shall have an extra few days to ponder,” Lenora said magnanimously. “Do you have any questions about your proposed employment you would like me to put to them?”

  Berta considered this a moment with a tip of her head. “Whether my bed be in the attic,” she said at last. “For my old bones can’t abide steep steps. And don’t bother askin’ after where that idle girl slept, for I’ve no doubt she warmed her master’s beds, and those days is long behind me!”

  Lenora spluttered. “Berta!”

  “Humph!” She stomped off and Lenora made her way to a farewell supper with her family.

  The Montmayne family representatives left the next morning. Her father managed to convey by a few quiet words that he would ensure her dowry was delivered in the next month or so. Her grandmother touched a gloved hand to her cheek and nodded and they were gone. She and Kit waved them off and her cousin ran after their carriage to the bottom of the drive.

  “Just making sure they had truly gone,” he said cheerfully when he reappeared, rubbing his hands together. “We’ve seen the back of them till winter. Do we set off for the Grange now?” he asked eagerly. “If so, I’ll saddle the horses.”

  “We’ll have to take the cart,” she pointed out. “If we’re taking your trunk with us.” Who even knew how long Garman intended to hole up at the Hainfroy place. “You may be there a while.”

  “The cart?” Kit sounded appalled. “I’ll just stuff some things into a sack and sling it behind my saddle. Never fear!”

  He was as good as his word and emerged some half-hour later with a bag which he hefted toward the stables. Lenora went in to fetch her cloak and don a hood and some gloves for though the sun shone, it was cold when you strayed into the shadows.

  They set off before noon and Lenora found she remembered the way pretty well. They had only to ask directions once from a passerby. She glanced at Kit as they approached the somewhat dilapidated outhouses. “The Grange is rather run-down I’m afraid,” she said though she did not know why she felt the need to make excuses.

  Kit just nodded. “I daresay it’s an after-effect of the war,” he said sagely.

  Lenora was startled. “Pardon?”

  “Well, when I was at Kellingford, Hadrian told me lots of the estates round these parts got neglected and left derelict while their owners were fighting the in the wars. You remember Hadrian? Sir Roger’s youngest son.”

  “Yes, I remember him,” Lenora murmured, recalling Sir Roger’s two illegitimate sons. She had not even considered the war being a factor. It had all seemed so far removed from a pampered southern courtier such as herself, and she had been little more than a child at the time. “The war has been over some six years or so now though,” she added.

  “Yes, but after losing a good deal of northerners were stripped of money and land by the Crown,” Kit pointed out. “Men were lost as well as revenue, workers and masters both. Some estates never recovered their losses and were left to fall derelict. Hadrian said many mighty houses fell with the Blechmarsh cause.”

  Lenora bit her lip, looking sideways at Kit. “Yes, I suppose that must be true. Garman and both Huw and Ivo served along with Sir Bernhard Hainfroy as his squire.”

  “And they are now training in the joust?” Kit asked with interest. Lenora nodded. “Hopefully I can join their lessons with them,” he said keenly, then caught sight of something. “Someone’s coming out to meet us.”

  Lenora’s head whipped around, but to her disappointment saw at once it was not Garman. It looked to be Huw Hainfroy, she thought with a sinking heart for she could see no distinctive scar on his cheek. Plastering a smile to her face, she sat up rather straighter in her saddle. “Hello there,” she called. “I have brought my husband’s squire to stay with him while he is under your roof. This is my cousin Kit Montmayne. Kit, this is Huw Hainfroy.”

  Huw, she thought was looking at her rather askance. “You’d better come into the house,” he said warily.

  “Shall I stable the horses?” Kit asked as they dismounted.

  “Aye.” Huw pointed in the direction of the barn. “Yonder. There’s empty stalls enough. You’ll find my brother there,” he called after Kit. He turned back to Lenora she thought with some reluctance. “Will you step into the kitchen?”

  “Happily,” Lenora said. “Will we find Purcel within?” she asked, referring to the eldest of Grizelda’s kittens.

  He grunted. “This time of day he’s usually sunning himself at the window.”

  Such proved to be the case. Purcel regarded them drowsily through heavy-lidded eyes before making a soft chirruping noise of surprise and clambering down to wind his way around Lenora’s ankles. “He’s grown so big!” she exclaimed. “Look at his shoulders! He’s three times as long as poor Fendrel!”

  Huw gave a grudging laugh. “Aye, he’s grown fat on the rats he catches. There’s none left in the house now, so he’s forced to roam into the barns for his sport.”

  “And Tybalt? Does he still haunt the stables?”

  “Oh aye, you’ll not find him far from the horses. He and this one have their own distinct territory marked out these days. If they find the other encroaching, they’ll roll around in the dirt spitting and fighting each other.”

  “They fight?” Lenora exclaimed with dismay.

  “It’s often the way with brothers,” he said dismissively and crossed the room to pull the door shut. Lenora watched him with interest.

  “Garman’s above stairs,” he said shortly.

  “At this hour?” She was frankly surprised.

  “He got blind drunk last night, and we had to carry him to bed.”

  Lenora blinked a few times. “Oh. Is that—?”

  “Not normal for him, no.” Huw was setting down a jug of ale and two cups, so was clearly making the effort of hospitality. “Take a seat on the bench.”

  Lenora sat down and suffered Purcel reaching up to claw her skirts with enthusiasm. “You savage,” she reproached him. “Does he no longer sit on laps as civilized cats do?”

  Huw scratched the back of his neck. “Not usually no. Though he’ll sit alongside you companionably enough.”

  Lenora patted the bench invitingly. “Come Purcel.” He cast her a contemptuous look and sprang up on the table. “Purcel!” He whisked his tail in her face and meowed. “Someone’s getting rather above himself,” she murmured, running a hand over his sleek fur.

  “Did you tell Garman that Isabeau likely saw him as a third brother?” Huw asked suddenly.

  Lenora looked up in surprise at the abrupt change of subject. “I believe I did say something of that sort. Why?”

  “He said it last night,” Huw admitted. “Along with a lot of other stuff.”

  Lenora hardly liked to ask what Garman might have spoken of when in his cups, so wisely said nothing. After a moment, Huw reached for the ale and poured them both a drop.

  “Do you remember my servant Berta,” Lenora asked brightly.

  “Berta? Oh aye. She was the one jumped on Marth
a’s back,” he said with a grin. “And pulled half the hair out of her head.”

  “Yes, that is she. Well, I’ve asked her to consider coming to you here at the Grange for a time. To help you get things running smoothly.”

  Huw looked rather struck by this piece of news. “Good of you,” he said. “We wouldn’t refuse her help and that’s a fact.”

  “She’s still considering the offer, but I think she will take it. She has a place with me for life, if she ever desires to return, but I don’t think Matchings Farm suits her. It’s too…” Lenora groped for the right word. “Confining for one of Berta’s temperament.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The order is too well established for her to throw her weight around,” Lenora explained.

  He grunted at this. “Well, she would have free rein here, though there’s precious few people for her to boss here except for us and the cats.” As if on cue, Purcel jumped down from the table and sauntered over to his favorite spot at the window where he commenced cleaning himself.

  Lenora shot Huw a speculative look as she sipped her ale. “Have you and your brother never considered taking wives?” she asked boldly.

  Huw almost spat out the mouthful of ale he’d taken. “Wives?” He coughed. “Nay.”

  “How old are you both? You must surely be of an age with Garman? Some twenty-seven years?”

  “I’m twenty-nine,” he corrected her. “Ivo is twenty-eight. Garman is the youngest of we three.”

  “Oh, well,” she told him. “I’d say it was high time, wouldn’t you? Especially if you now intend to be off competing on the tourney circuit. Who will keep the home fires burning while you are gone? Who will feed your poor cats?”

  Huw wiped his sleeve across his top lip, removing the foam. “Eligible maidens are not exactly beating a path to our door,” he said dryly.

  “You know, your sister Isabeau was not the only means of joining your family with Garman’s,” she said confidingly.

  “What’s that?”

  “Did you know that Garman has two first cousins of marriageable age?” Huw stared at her. “I should think your father would approve of having his last wish respected, wouldn’t you?”

  “Two cousins?”

  “Magda and Agnes Orde,” Lenora told him. “Have you never heard of them? They reside not far from here at Twyford Castle.”

  His eyes screwed up. “Oh aye,” he snorted. “I’ve heard of them. A pair of ill-tempered, haughty bitches. Is not one of them a cripple?”

  Lenora remembered the crutch resting on Agnes’s chair and then how she had hobbled out in Lady Jehanne’s wake. “Agnes walks with a limp, it’s true, but it does not stop her getting around. Speak now if that is an issue, for she would be the one for you.”

  He flushed at that. “And why is that?”

  “Ivo has already made a conquest of Magda.”

  His eyes practically bulged out of his head. “Ivo?” he said with a short laugh. “Nay, I’ll not believe it.”

  “Oh yes. He seduced her many moons ago on the village green.”

  Huw stared at her. “That does not sound like my brother,” he said, shaking his head.

  Lenora shrugged. “It was before the war,” she said and from the hard look he gave her and the way his gaze fell away she knew she had spoken shrewdly.

  “I see,” he murmured.

  “Think it over,” she recommended and was just lifting her cup to her mouth when the door burst open and Garman stood glowering on the threshold.

  “Good morning, husband,” Lenora greeted him, only the slightest tremor in her voice try as she might to repress it. He wore no tunic and was bare to the waist.

  Huw wheeled about in alarm. “We were just talking,” he said, hastily jumping up from his seat.

  Garman came into the room; his eyes never leaving Lenora’s face. “What the hells are you doing here, Lenora?” he snarled.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Huw murmured, making hastily for the door. He paused before opening it, looking back uncertainly at Lenora.

  “Good day, Huw,” she told him reassuringly. “We will speak further on the matter. Mayhap tomorrow or the day after.”

  He nodded and let himself out of the kitchen.

  “What the fuck do you need to speak to Huw about?” Garman demanded, lifting a pitcher of water and drinking it straight from the jug. Once he had swallowed his mouthful, he lifted it higher and sloshed some over the top of his head before setting it crashing down, and then shaking himself like a dog.

  “A heavy night?” Lenora asked sympathetically.

  He glowered at her. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Oh, I was just telling him about Berta,” she replied with a half-truth.

  “She’s come?” He looked around quickly.

  “No, not yet, but I believe the idea grows more palatable to her by the day.”

  He gave a short, abrasive laugh. “You came all this way to tell him that?” He gave her a scornful look. “A wasted journey. You were so desperate then, to flee your father’s company.”

  Lenora could not quite conceal the fact she flinched at his harsh words, though she tried. “They have gone back already this morning,” she said quietly.

  He accepted this without comment, taking another long drink of water. “What are you doing here?” he asked abruptly, as he lowered the jug. “I did not send for you, and I will not. You are mistaken if you imagine I want you here.”

  Lenora took a deep breath. “I have brought my cousin Kit who you agreed to take on as your squire. I trust your displeasure with me will not mean you going back on your word.”

  He slammed the pitcher down so hard she jumped. “I’m not a man who goes back on his word,” he said softly. “As you will find out to your detriment.”

  Lenora felt the color drain out of her face. “Did you swear then, to exact revenge on your father’s family?” she asked quietly.

  “I did,” he answered without even a pause.

  It stands to reason, she thought even as her blood ran cold. She imagined him as a thirteen-year-old, standing before the gates of Twyford Castle, hate in his heart. Perhaps that was why he did not want children, she thought suddenly. So, the line would end with him?

  “I have thought of a more poetic revenge for you,” she said desperately. “One that kills two birds with one stone.”

  He said nothing, merely narrowed his eyes at her.

  She licked her lips. “You told me once that Sir Bernhard wished to join your family and his, in wedded bonds. You have observed yourself that your sworn brothers the Hainfroys are badly in need of helpmeets.”

  “I remember saying no such thing.”

  “Think of Lord Twyford’s horror, if you were to barter a match between your Orde cousins and the Hainfroy brothers,” she said, leaning forward. “Your aunt Jehanne would be frankly appalled at such a notion. She’s a proud and haughty woman—”

  “And what of a dowry?” Garman snapped. “Do you really think a sensible man would take a woman without one?”

  Lenora’s chin came up. “My father has promised to send mine within a month. I can pay their dowry out of my own.”

  “Yet another matter!” He slammed his palm down on the table. “In which you defy me. I told you I would not have you begging.”

  Lenora felt the last of her color leech away. “And I told you that I would do no such thing,” she replied with quiet dignity, rising to her feet. “Tell me now if I need take Kit back with me.”

  “You need not,” he ground out.

  She nodded to him and hurried toward the kitchen door; her vision suddenly blurry with tears she would never allow to fall while there was still breath in her body. She was halfway down the path toward the stables when she thought she heard something overturn and smash in the house behind her.

  Quickening her step, she hurried to the stables and found Kit there sat on an upturned bucket deep in conversation with both Hainfroy brothers. They
broke off abruptly when she appeared. “I must leave you now, Kit,” she said, making for her horse. “Garman knows you have arrived, but you must tread carefully around him today, for he has a sore head.”

  “Is that what you did?” asked Ivo sarcastically. “Trod carefully?”

  Lenora led her horse out. “I’m afraid not,” she admitted. “And now I very much fear he has overturned your kitchen table.” She grimaced as both brothers stared at her open-mouthed. “I will see you either tomorrow or the next day,” she said. “As soon as Berta has made her decision.” Swinging up onto her saddle, she set off on her return journey to Matchings Farm.

  She was about halfway home, when she had the sensation of eyes on her. Looking back over her shoulder she spotted a figure in the distance that it seemed to her was none other than Garman himself, sat astride his horse Bria’ag. She slowed down to give him the chance of catching up with her, but apparently, he did not want this, for he also slowed down, maintaining the distance between them.

  Frowning, Lenora continued on her way and found that though he kept her in his sights, he made no effort to gain on her. As she turned up the driveway for Matchings Farm, he turned abruptly away and rode off. The only conclusion she could draw was that he wanted to see she reached home safely. For some reason, this warmed her heart and by the time she walked into the farm, a small smile played about her lips, in spite of all her worries.

  39

  It was late afternoon that Garman strode down the hallway at the farm after ascertaining from a servant that Lenora was sat in the front parlor. He had heard nothing from her since her visit to the Grange some two days earlier. It seemed longer to him than that, for she haunted his thoughts by both day and night. Flinging open the door, he discovered her curled up in the window-seat with her white cat, holding a list at arm’s length which she seemed to be regarding with frowning absorption.

  She lowered the page and sat up as he shut the door behind him. “Garman—?”

  “Well?” he said rudely, crossing his arms. His face assumed a look of chilly indifference.