Lulu shrugged and picked up George who seemed to be tiring of being a human puppet. “I might… if the bodyguards let me through.”
Oh, good gravy. What was the point?
Thankfully, Martha saw Agatha and Edric entering the garden, probably in search of the twins, so Martha let the subject drop. For now.
“Look see, there they are, Agatha,” Edric cried when he spotted them, confirming Martha’s suspicions. “There’s our favorite girl and boy.”
At the sound of Edric’s familiar voice, little George began squirming frantically in Lulu’s arms, thrashing his pudgy limbs, trying to get to his favorite uncle.
“Up. Up!” he cried, directing his sweetest gummy grin Edric’s way.
With a laugh, Edric took the little boy from Lulu and swung him up into the air. “Oh, you’re a demanding one, alright. There’s no denying you anything, is there, my fine little fellow?” Really, Edric and Agatha were the most amazing surrogate grandparents.
Beaming with delight, George patted Edric’s bald head, laughing hysterically at the happy slapping sound it made.
Agatha took Maudie from Martha. For once, the older woman was unusually quiet. Oh heck. This couldn’t be good.
“So?” Martha prompted gently, “How did it go?”
“Hmm?”
“The meeting… with your sons?” Agatha had been steeling herself for days to have a little talk with her two strapping warrior sons. Martha searched Agatha’s face but found no clues as to the outcome of this momentous event.
“Oh, you know.” Agatha lowered herself onto a stone bench and bounced Maudie absently on her lap. “Blaine was a little shocked, but Warner took the news better than we’d hoped.”
Truth be told, Agatha was looking a little flushed. But it was hardly surprising really. After all, it wasn’t every day that a woman had to approach her grown-up children seeking their approval on her upcoming wedding, was it?
Finally, after months of shilly-shallying about—to say nothing of Lulu’s various schemes to make Agatha jealous—on the evening of the great welcome home banquet, Edric had at last worked up enough courage to ‘pop the question’ to his lady love.
Martha still couldn’t decide what had surprised her the most: Edric’s stammering proposal or Agatha’s blushing acceptance. Either way, the pair of them were now totally loved-up and heart-warmingly happy together. It had been a long time coming.
The only cloud on Agatha and Edric’s horizon had been the worry of having to break the news to her sons. But at last, the deed was finally done.
“Well?” Lulu asked, her head tilted bird-like to one side. “Will they both be attending the wedding or not?” Only Martha saw her aunt crossing the fingers of both hands behind her back.
Suddenly, Agatha’s face melted into a joyful smile. “They will. Apparently, they both approve of my future husband.”
“Yes!” Lulu clapped in delight. “That’s wonderful news.”
Martha smiled. “I’m so glad for you, Ags.”
With a broad grin, Edric sat down beside his future wife. Securing baby George with one arm, he reached for Agatha’s hand and brought her work-roughened hand to his lips. “How could they do otherwise, my queen? A fine lusty fellow such as I would be a fine catch for any woman.”
At these words, Agatha, Lulu, and Martha indulged in a perfect display of synchronized eye-rolling.
“Oh, do be quiet, you old fool,” Agatha scolded, although her expression was affectionate. “No one is impressed with all your bluster.”
“Aye, but you will be, my lass” Edric promised huskily, planting a loud kiss on Agatha’s cheek. “One of these fine days, you’ll know the difference between truth and bluster.” The searing look he gave Agatha was so uncomfortably intimate that Martha had to look away while Lulu, meanwhile, began clearing her throat noisily.
O-kay. Time for a change of subject.
Fortunately, little Maudie spied Forge bounding through the gardens towards them, with Vadim not far behind.
“Dawgie!” Maudie shrieked in delight, wriggling furiously to escape from Agatha’s lap. “Dada.”
Martha’s heart gave a happy little skip as it so often did whenever Vadim came striding toward her. Mmm-mm! Yep, Dada was looking in extremely fine form today with his lean, long-legged grace, his dark hair shining in the sun, and his eyes flashing. Even better, he was wearing the most toe-curlingly sexy crooked smile.
“Lord Edgeway.” Martha dipped him a low, respectful curtsy.
“Countess,” Vadim replied, taking her hand and raising her to face him. “How fare ye this day, wife?”
Oh, major tingles! She so loved it when they played their game of Lord and Lady Edgeway. They only usually indulged in their favorite game while safely locked away in the privacy of their bedchamber.
“I’m quite well, thank you, m’lord,” Martha answered demurely, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
It must be all the love in the air, affecting them all. Well, almost everyone.
“Oh, please.” With a loud disgusted groan, Aunt Lulu turned away. “This much sugar is enough to turn a poor old woman’s stomach. Have some mercy on me, you horrible lot.”
Less than a week later, Miriam watched as their guests finally departed for their homes in the north in a noisy, good-humored cavalcade.
So many farewells. So much talk and laughter. Meanwhile, children squealed and bawled, while dogs yapped at the slow-trundling wheels of the wagons, or nipped at the heels of their masters’ horses, generally getting in the way. But it was the deafening clip-clop of so many hooves upon the cobbles Miriam would always remember. The sound of parting.
Standing shoulder to shoulder with her family, she stood smiling and waving until the last of their guests had vanished over the drawbridge and were finally gone from sight.
Over the coming days, the loss of the Northerners would be keenly felt by all of them. The palace would feel much emptier, despite the profusion of ever-present courtiers. For herself, Miriam would miss the company of the Countess of Edgeway and her aunt most of all. During the final days leading up to their departure, a surprising closeness had developed between the three of them. It had been a real pleasure to spend time with people who clearly had so little regard for ceremonial chicanery.
Miriam greatly admired Martha and Lulu’s great openness of character, something seen so seldom within the borders of court. The peculiarity of their speech was sometimes difficult to follow at times, though.
But in Lulu, Miriam found a different kind of solace, for the old lady made no secret of how highly she regarded Edgeway’s least favorite son. With secret delight, Miriam listened for as long as Lulu cared to talk about Hansel, laughing helplessly at some of the amusing anecdotes Lulu recounted; small everyday happenings that made up the fabric of their, rather singular, friendship.
Although Lulu had never actually come straight out and asked Miriam about her relationship with Anselm—probably due to all the hard stares Martha kept shooting in her aunt’s direction—Miriam knew that the old lady understood how it was between them.
Using Fergus and Effie as her most frequent example, the old lady declared herself much relieved that Lord Reynard had finally come around and begun warming to the union of his son and Martha’s former maid.
“It’s a terrible thing, so it is, forcing a child to choose between its parents and the one they love. Fine titles do not a happy marriage make. Only love can do that.” Or so Lulu was fond of saying.
No matter how much Miriam secretly agreed with her and inwardly applauded this fine sentiment, she was careful to keep her expression neutral, a look that said neither one thing nor the other. Not even with Lulu did she dare share the details of her secret love.
While Anselm might have saved them, Rodmar’s gratitude was not without its limits. Despite all that he had done for their
family, she sincerely doubted that Anselm would ever be one of her brother’s favorite people.
At least she had the comfort of knowing that he was alive… somewhere in the world. With good fortune, perhaps one day, Miriam might eventually find a man to succeed him in her heart. But until then, she relied upon the memories of stolen moments to sustain her.
Lonely though she sometimes was, it was safer this way.
Chapter Forty-Two
Some weeks later, Rodmar entered the music room unannounced one morning, thus interrupting his sisters from their employments—Miriam from absentmindedly caressing the strings of a golden harp and Catherine from staring out of the window, hoping for a glimpse of the huntsmen as they returned from their sport. More specifically, the duke with whom she was currently smitten.
“Ah, there you are,” Rodmar said. “I would speak with you both at once,”
Catherine leaped up from her seat, instantly alert. “With me? Why?” she asked, her face glowing with happy anticipation. “Has Lord Radleigh finally asked for my hand?”
“No, he has not, and if he were to learn the contents of the missive I received today, I doubt he ever will.” Holding a scrap of scruffy parchment between his thumb and forefinger as if it were something unpleasant, Rodmar waved it at them. “This was delivered by a person unknown sometime during the early hours of this morning.”
Miriam slowly rose from her seat. What possible news could have pitched their usually placid brother into such a grim mood?
“Well?” Catherine asked at length. “Do you intend to disclose the contents of your mystery missive, or should we try and guess?”
“Don’t be impudent, Catherine,” he snapped. “Not today. Believe me, I am in no mood for sauce of any kind.”
Miriam’s stomach began churning and she chewed her lip uneasily. The tidings must be terrible indeed.
“So what does the letter say, brother?” she asked in a gentle tone, eager to not ruffle Rodmar’s feathers any more than they already were.
“For all that it is brief, the note has a good deal to say, I assure you of that. Dreadful lies and threats scribbled in the most appalling hand. I can barely make out one word in two for all the ink runs and splotches—which is probably for the best considering it contains profanity of the foulest kind.”
Profanity? The sisters exchanged a frowning look.
Bring the parchment closer to his face, Rodmar squinted at it. “It’s signed by some unsavory character by the name of… Hor… Hodge—?”
“Hodges!” The name flew from Miriam’s lips before she could stop it. She sank onto the harp bench, her trembling legs suddenly too weak to support her. She felt sick. How could this be? Oh, hell. Fabien’s second-in-command had followed home. Was there no end to this torment?
“Ah, so you know him, then. I thought as much.”
What of the captain? Was Fabien alive, too? No. Surely not. Anselm had delivered him a fatal wound. Or so he believed.
“Are you unwell, Miriam? Your pallor has turned quite ashen.”
Unable to speak, Miriam forced herself to nod. If Hodges was alive, what other terrible things had he written about them?
Catherine rounded on her. “I thought you said your precious Northman had dealt with your pirate friends?” She gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, what fools we were. He was probably in league with them from the beginning.”
“No.” Miriam leaped to her feet, rage lending strength to her feeble legs. “Don’t you dare speak of him so. Lest you have forgotten, we owe Sir Anselm our lives.”
But Catherine wasn’t cowed by Miriam’s snarls. “Hah! So much for his reformed character. You always did have the worst taste in men, sister.”
Miriam clenched her hands into fists at her sides. Oh, how she longed for the right to do battle on Anselm’s behalf. But she couldn’t. All she could do was swat ineffectually at each of her sister’s toxic barbs as she fired them.
“And now, thanks to him,” Catherine continued, “our enemy has reappeared in the very place where he can damage us the most.” She shook her head. “I might as well declare myself a spinster now and have done with it.”
Rodmar didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned upon the stone mantelpiece, watching their quarrel from a safe distance.
“Oh, for the love of Erde, what does the horrid fellow want, brother?” Catherine demanded. “How much will it cost to make this unspeakable situation go away?”
“Several sacks of gold, so I believe.” Rodmar squinted again at the parchment in his hand. “Ah, no. Four sacks of gold. The cur was quite specific.”
As much as she was loathe to ask, Miriam needed to know the worst. “A-And if you don’t pay him, what then?” There was no point in concealment now.
“He says he will tell the world of how he and the rest of his pirate crew took turns with you both—”
“Merciful God, no,” It was Catherine’s turn to collapse onto her seat. “Then, it’s over,” she murmured weakly. “No matter what we do, we’re ruined.”
Miriam felt terrible. Just because she had no prospect of any future happiness didn’t mean Catherine should have to forfeit her dreams, too.
“Well?” Rodmar looked at them from one to the other. “Do you deny these vile claims?”
“How dare you even ask such a thing, brother? Of course we bloody well deny them!” Miriam cried. “Although in the eyes of the world, we are damned anyway”
“I meant no discourtesy, sister. After all, how could any woman be expected to repel the advances of an entire crew of murderous cutthroats?”
Miriam took a steadying breath and drew herself up to her full height. “To avoid any further misunderstanding, allow me to speak plainly, sire. The pirates did not have the opportunity to despoil us for Ans—Sir Anselm and his companions shadowed us too closely.”
Rodmar nodded, a most thoughtful expression in his all-seeing eyes. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“So, let us waste no more time on discussing these horrible accusations.”
“The problem is,” Rodmar continued glancing back at the note, “this Hodges fellow is quite specific on certain points.”
“Namely?”
“The placement of certain birthmarks, for example. I believe you have a particular bird-shaped mark on your upper thigh, Miriam.”
Surprisingly, Catherine who came to her aid. “The only thing they took turns at was the task of guarding us, you know… whenever we needed to… relieve ourselves. Such foul men as these have no honor to speak of. Spying on a lady certainly wouldn’t be beneath any of them. Believe me, brother. In such situations as these, maidenly modesty is quite impossible, especially whilst clad in naught but a flimsy shift.”
Miriam sent Catherine a grateful smile. How strange. Within the space of just a few moments she’d swung from wanting to kill her sister to wanting to embrace her.
“Forgive me, sisters.” Rodmar went to each of them in turn, taking their hand and pressing a gentle kiss to their brows. “As much as it pained me to ask, I had to know the truth—be it good or bad. You understand why, I hope?”
“Of course,” Miriam was still feeling shaken, and more than a little guilty, too. She alone was responsible for the trouble now hounding them. As much as she desperately wanted to confess all of her other sins to Rodmar, she knew it wouldn’t make her feel any easier. Such a revelation would only cause further hurt to him and to the rest of her family. If she loved them, she must bear her inner burden quietly, sparing her loved ones the grief of learning all the ways in which she’d betrayed them.
Unless, of course, Hodges had decided to unburden himself on her behalf.
“What will you do about this Hodges fellow, brother?” Catherine wanted to know. “Surely you will not give in to his demands?”
“Certainly not.” Rodmar’s stone-cold eyes reminded Miriam of the warr
ior beneath the golden crown. “Master Hodges shall be… dealt with accordingly.”
“Will he be put on trial?” Miriam asked. God knows what the wretched man would reveal in an effort to save his worthless neck.
“Do not vex yourself, sister.” Rodmar’s lips twisted in a grim smile. “In such uncertain times as these, not every criminal makes it to trial. There are so many unseen perils along the way, waiting to befall the unwitting.” He smoothed his hands down the front of his burgundy robe and smiled, suddenly quite himself again. “Now, leave this with me and put the whole sorry matter out of your heads.”
Rodmar would probably engage mercenaries to deal with the unfortunate blackmailer. Quick justice and a brutal one. Even so, Miriam was not sorry.
“What if he’s not working alone?” she persisted. “What if there are others?” More specifically, Fabien.
“Which is why I have already sent Master Hodges an advance payment. For a short time, at least, he will enjoy a life of ease and plenty, but only until my informants are certain of the company he keeps.”
Catherine went to her brother and hugged him.“Clever king.” She planted a tender kiss upon his cheek. “Then I may yet receive the proposal I desire the most.”
“Indeed you may. Even our dear Miriam will have her choice of men, for I will not tolerate the spread of rumor and gossip. Not in my kingdom.”
Miriam believed him. Rodmar could always be relied upon to fulfill his vows. His iron-clad determination had been forged in the heat of the desert during his long years of banishment.
“What say you, Miriam?” Rodmar asked in a lighter tone as though he hadn’t been plotting to do murder only a few moments ago. “Is there any gentleman of the court you would like to know better, eh?”
She shrugged. “Not really, but I haven’t been here long. No doubt in the days to come I will become better acquainted with all your friends, brother.”
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