The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2)

by Alice Coldbreath

  “You knew Master Sutton?”

  He looked shocked. “Oh yes, milady. We were boys together here.”

  Lenora nodded. “I remember he told me he was raised here.”

  “Most of the servants here have been here for generations,” said Oates, his chest puffing out. “‘Tis a wicked shame the Suttons were driven out of Twyford. There’s been Oates and Suttons here since dawn o’ time.”

  “In that case, you must have known Anne Sutton, Garman’s mother.”

  “Knowed her well,” Oates said promptly. “A more pleasant-spoken girl I never knew. And if some was shocked when her forgot her station, we knew the fault didn’t lie at her door, nor her father’s. Master Merek were a force o’ nature, he were. Few could stand against him when he wanted something and that’s a fact. Even the old master could not sway him from a course he’d determined on.”

  Lenora nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”

  Oates hesitated. “If anyone can get this place running on an even keel, it’s Gerard Sutton. A wonder with the account books and such, he is.”

  Privately, Lenora thought it would take more than Garman’s grandfather to get the place set to rights. It would take a miracle. By her own reckoning of the last three days, only a quarter of the castle was even habitable. She dreaded to think what state its grounds were in.

  “I have not yet received word of my husband’s plans,” Lenora said cautiously.

  Oates looked disappointed. “Even if his lordship don’t never set foot in here again, he could send Master Sutton in his stead, could he not?”

  Lenora’s face fell. Never set foot here again? Was it so obvious to all, that Garman loathed and despised the place?

  “Oates,” Magda called. “Come away now and leave Lady Twyford to digest her meal now. I have need of your help.”

  Lady Twyford. She had still not adjusted to that either, she thought as she sent Magda a grateful look. She would sit with a book for as long as she could stand and only then retire to bed. If not, she knew she would lie awake until the small hours tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

  Agnes joined her in the great chamber, and they sat in companionable silence before the fire. Lenora had a book she had found with many illustrations of plants alongside cramped handwriting describing their properties. Agnes was sat whispering to a tiny wire-haired dog which her grandfather had forbidden her from keeping indoors due to his incessant yapping.

  For three years, poor Agnes had been forced to keep Gorvenal in the stables, but the last few days had seen him swap this life for one of beds and cushions and his mistress’s lap. He cocked a defiant eye at Lenora now, as if daring her to question his place. A bark trembled excitedly on his lips, but his mistress shushed him, so he contented himself with a whine and a darkling look.

  Lenora thought of Grizelda and Fendrel and hoped her cats were well at Matchings Farm. She was not overly worried for she knew they were quite spoiled there, but she missed them all the same and all of a sudden, a great wave of loneliness threatened to overwhelm her. In vain, she told herself this was not to be wondered at. In the last six months her circumstances had changed so often it was a wonder her head did not spin!

  Perhaps, a voice whispered in her ear, she had been a fool when her life had been spared those few months ago. Carving out her own future had not gone so well. Maybe after all, she should have been content with something less ambitious, such as becoming Eden’s charity cause. She knew full well her cousin would not have grudged her a place under her roof.

  The thought was an oddly depressing one. Then her eye fell on the Twyford coat of arms above the fireplace. But… if she had not eloped with Sir Garman, then she would not have fulfilled her destiny. Her heart swelled and she was comforted. Her coming here was fated. She had not taken a misstep. And if she had not come to supper at the castle when invited, then she would never have known about the bleeding heart. Perhaps more importantly, the old Earl’s death would have been all the more bitter for the absence of his heir.

  A log dropped in the fireplace with a shower of sparks and Gorvenal leapt up barking in his mistress’s arms. Lenora started violently from her thoughts.

  “Hush now Gor!” Agnes scolded, kissing his scruffy face. “I’m sorry, cousin, he is not yet used to life indoors.”

  “That’s quite understandable,” Lenora assured her.

  “I shall bathe him tonight,” Agnes continued, sniffing the curly gray hair. “For he has a certain odor lingering that is not entirely pleasant.” She thrust his small, wriggling body in Lenora’s direction. “Pray tell, what do you suppose it is?”

  Lenora gave an obliging sniff and wrinkled her nose. “Y-es. Perhaps he has rolled where foxes have been,” she suggested delicately. Gorvenal gave a low, indignant growl.

  “Gor!” his mistress implored, and he promptly licked Agnes’s face by way of apology.

  “I meant no offence,” Lenora assured him, though in her opinion, Agnes would find cats much easier to keep. She yawned and realizing her book was doing the trick, bade her cousin goodnight and rose to climb the stairs to bed.

  Her feet felt heavy as she climbed the many stone steps. She felt weary, not so much in body as in heart. It was exhausting keeping up a façade when inside she felt quite desolate. Would Garman soften in his attitude toward her, she wondered, or was she just deluding herself? Sometimes in the middle of the night she feared that just because she could not imagine a future without him in it, did not mean he felt the same about her.

  Opening her door, she entered the dark bedroom where the glow of the fireplace was the only light and set her candle holder down on the large trunk next to her bed. Straightening up, she pondered a moment. Should she write him a letter, she wondered? Surely, she would have to take some kind of action soon, if he did not come to her. She could not simply drift on like seaweed without direction. She glanced over to the window where she knew Lady Jehanne had kept a writing case. Then she froze. A tall figure sat there silently regarding her there from the shadows. Garman.

  He didn’t utter a sound. Just met her gaze squarely and impassively. For a moment, she wondered if it was a trick of the light and her own mind. Then her eyes adjusted, and she made out his features plainly. He was watchful and tense, despite his stillness and she realized he was waiting for her reaction.

  She cleared her throat. “Husband,” she greeted him calmly. He nodded and Lenora moved to the foot of the bed and sat there so they were directly opposite each other. “What happens now?” she asked softly, hoping the candlelight would not show her pallor or tiredness.

  “Parlay,” he replied abruptly.

  “Parlay?” It was not what she had expected or hoped for.

  “We agree terms,” he elaborated, and Lenora felt a jolt of cold fear.

  “For separation?” she croaked, grasping a bedpost.

  “What? Fuck no,” he replied angrily, then seemed to check himself. “I should probably warn you now, if we can’t agree terms, I’ll just drag you off with me. I’m trying to be civilized.” He glared at her.

  Lenora felt so relieved she almost sank down on the bed. Then she felt something spark at the base of her spine. “I apologize if I’m being dense,” she said carefully. “But terms for what? Last time I saw you, you made it very plain that you wanted me out of your life and were done with me.”

  “I was angry,” he said flatly. “And—hasty,” he added with a rasp in his voice. Lenora waited as he seemed to struggle with words. “Just tell me what you need from me, Lenora.”

  “Need from you?”

  “In order for us to get back to where we were. Before everything—”

  “Fell apart?”

  His eyes fell away from hers. “Before I pulled everything apart,” he admitted tersely.

  “I don’t need anything from you, Garman,” she said, lifting her chin. “I have a leaky roof over my head, and I have no doubt I can carve a life for myself here if I must.”

  “I’m sure you c
an,” he said roughly. “But I can’t spare you. You may not need me, but I need you.”

  Lenora looked up, her breath coming fast. “What of your grand scheme for revenge?” she forced herself to ask. She thought he colored slightly, but it was hard to tell in the shadows.

  He held her gaze. “I’m done with it. I’m only hurting myself.”

  Lenora swallowed, forcing herself to take a deep breath in and out. Her brain raced, trying to remember how parlay was supposed to work. You laid out the terms for negotiating a truce, she thought. So, if she overplayed her hand now by demanding he lived at Twyford Castle, she could then allow herself to be negotiated down to his simply not purchasing Matchings Halt.

  Did she have the nerve to ask for such a thing though, she wondered? What if he ended up flinging off, enraged again? Negotiations were tricky things, were they not? Then again, she had no experience of diplomacy to draw on. She would simply have to plunge on and hope for the best.

  “I want you to take up your rightful place here, at Twyford Castle,” she said outrageously and watched his face, waiting for him to explode. “We can use my dowry to instigate much-needed repairs.”

  His face blank, he answered her coolly. “This place is a bottomless well, Lenora. Your dowry would disappear without a trace.”

  Lenora shrugged as though with supreme unconcern. “You regularly win purses of gold at the tournaments, do you not? Those would supply us with steady income enough.”

  He snorted. “They would also be swallowed up into dark nothingness!” He took a deep breath, as if striving for calm. “An estate of this size is an unwieldy beast with a monstrous appetite,” he pointed out.

  Lenora nodded; she could not dispute the fact. “Oh yes, but on my father’s death, I have no doubt he will leave me his vast fortune. He has no other children and is not overly fond of either of my cousins.”

  “You want to throw every coin we have at it? When we could live in comfort and wealth at Matchings Halt?” He was clearly incensed at the notion, but fighting to remain calm.

  Lenora nodded and when he fell silent, decided she had better go all in. “Don’t forget,” she continued rashly. “We have something the old earl was forced to live without this past twenty-seven years. We have your grandfather Sutton. Oates has been telling me that when he ran this place, it had tenants who were happy and paid their rent and—”

  “Half the farms lie empty and are practically derelict,” Garman cut across her words angrily.

  “I know that, Oates explained. But we could spend my dowry on getting the farms renovated for new tenants,” she said as inspiration struck. She was really on a roll now.

  “The farms?” he echoed. “Not the roof? Not the—”

  Lenora shook her head. “The farms,” she repeated insistently. “The family could be moved into the west wing of the castle entirely where conditions are best.”

  “To camp there until money trickles in to mend the roof?” Garman asked acidly.

  “Precisely. You will have to win gold at the winter tournament of course.” He stared at her a moment as if incapable of speech. “Grandfather Sutton will move back to the castle and we would rent out Matchings Farm—”

  “I couldn’t ask him to do that!” he interrupted in blunt refusal.

  “Why? He does not consider the farm to be his home. Do you know where he thinks of as home, Garman? You will never guess.” When he did not speak, she said softly. “It is here.”

  “What?” he burst forth. “You think his dearest wish is to live as a servant again?”

  “Oh Garman,” she sighed. “He grew up there, it was his home and his father’s home. And his father’s father. He loves Twyford Castle probably as much as the Earl did. If he could get his hands on the account books and the running of the place again, he would love it! Especially if he could turn things around, don’t you see? That would really show everyone that the old earl’s downfall was throwing out his right-hand man!”

  “He’s his own master now,” Garman pointed out, looking thunderstruck. “You mean to tell me he’d rather return to some subservient position than be his own man in his own home.”

  “I know he would,” Lenora said simply. “He was raised to be steward here, it’s in his blood. And if you gave him someone to train up to take over after him, he would be absolutely in his element. Grandfather Sutton,” Lenora concluded. “Is one of those people who absolutely has to feel useful. Otherwise, he becomes disheartened and loses interest in things.”

  Garman was looking at her hard now. “And do you know what kind you are?”

  Lenora was thrown for a minute. “I think so,” she answered slowly.

  “I doubt it very much,” he said with a short laugh. Was he insulting her? Lenora flushed, then he stood up, confounding her. “Very well,” he said shortly. “I agree to your terms.”

  Her mouth fell open. “What?” she gasped faintly.

  “I yield,” he said steadily. “Whatever you want.”

  Lenora stared. “Wait, I—”

  “I don’t think I can wait,” he admitted bluntly. “But if you need this night to come to terms with our reconciliation, then I’ll sleep elsewhere. Another chamber, I don’t care if it leaks so long as we remain under the same roof.” He cleared his throat. “Or we could formalize it now.” His gaze slid to the bed then back to her.

  “Another chamber?” she echoed. “No, I don’t want you to go!”

  “Good,” he said harshly and reached for her, pulling her up into his arms. At the feel of his strong arms around her, Lenora melted into him with a grateful cry. “If you’re tired, we can just sleep,” he said, and she felt his lips at her brow. “Just let me hold you.” Her head reeling, Lenora felt herself swung up and carried over to the bed. “You look tired.” His voice cracked. “And small wonder. I should never have left you in a household of death—”

  “No, I’m glad for it,” Lenora said as he laid her down. “For I think your cousins were at breaking point. Your aunt, the Lady Jehanne has abandoned them.”

  He grunted, slipping her shoes off her feet. She thought he uttered “small mercies” but she wasn’t sure.

  “Garman, I don’t really—”

  “Hush now, we’ve thrashed out the main terms,” he urged. “Let’s discuss the detail later. For now, I want to concentrate on this. On you and me.”

  She tried to catch his eye as he loosed the laces to her gown, but he was intent on his task and would not meet her gaze. She lifted her arms obligingly as he drew her gown over her head and then he drew the covers over her.

  She rolled onto her side and watched as he speedily undressed and then slid in beside her. In an instant, his arms were around her, his face resting against the swell of her bosom. Lenora raised one hand to run through his short hair, and the other to stroke against his face.

  “You came to me,” she said, half wonderingly.

  “Did you doubt I would?” he asked gruffly in muffled tones. “Eventually?”

  “In my lowest moments, yes.”

  His grip tightened almost painfully. “I can scarce breathe,” she said with some amusement. Grudgingly, he relaxed his hold. “Who showed you to this chamber? You could not have guessed it was mine.”

  “Magda,” he said shortly. “And that excitable servant who cries a lot.”

  “Oates.”

  “Yes, him.”

  That must have been where they disappeared to after supper, she thought. “Did you come from the Grange?” He shook his head. Lenora hesitated. “The farm?” she guessed and felt him nod. “You’ve been staying at the farm?”

  With a huff, he lifted his face from her breasts. “Yes, these last three days,” he admitted. She noticed that he looked as weary as she felt. Sliding her hands from the back to the front of his head, she cupped his face. “You look tired.”

  “I feel it,” he said. “Why aren’t you giving me a harder time?” he asked hoarsely. “You should be angrier with me. Why aren’t you?”r />
  Lenora blinked. Did he not think she had demanded enough from him already? “Part of this is my fault,” she admitted. “I should have spoken to you before attending the Earl of Twyford here. And also, I said some unforgiveable things on that first night.”

  “When?” He lifted his head, looking surprised.

  Lenora coughed. “I mean, when I approached you and asked you to marry me,” she clarified hurriedly. “When I said those things about how you’d treat a wife worse than your dog,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze. “It was wrong of me and—”

  “Why?” he interrupted her with a shrug. “That is my reputation after all. You said naught amiss.” He hesitated. “Some might say I have treated you—”

  “You most certainly have not!” Lenora argued hotly. “You are the very best of husbands!”

  “The very best?” he spluttered. “My gods, I doubt anyone else would say so!”

  Lenora turned thoughtful. “I think I need to learn to be more conciliatory,” she confessed. “And avoid confrontation more.”

  “No,” he said, turning onto his back. “I like that you don’t back down. No-one ever dares stand up to me, like you do.”

  Lenora smoothed a hand across his chest. She was silent a moment, savoring his warm, hard body next to hers again at last. “I want to tell you something,” she confessed. “But I’m scared to.”

  “Don’t be,” he replied on an outward breath. “I don’t want you to be scared to tell me anything ever again.”

  She ran a finger over his collarbone, following its progress with her eyes. “When I was beautiful and foolish and you never spared me a second glance,” she started hesitantly. Garman’s hand grasped her hip firmly, but he held his tongue. “I used to be very, very superstitious,” she carried on. “It was sort of my only interest in life, other than my cats.” She stole a glance at his face, but he showed no visible reaction. “A fortuneteller once told me—”

  “If this is about you being stunted—?” he interrupted her.