A wave of excitement rushed up his back. Title. Talbot did not have a title. He would offer Talbot a title for his daughter’s hand, in exchange for an allowance for him.
“My thanks for your time and information.” Eden gathered the papers from Falin. “I best be getting on. I’d like to be in London by tomorrow’s afternoon meal.”
“I’m sure you’re eager for your Charlotte to tell you all about Talbot.”
Eden picked up his cape.
“Let me know if you need me to poke around here for you. I may be able to find someone interested in your scheme—sorry, project,” Falin said. “Who knows. Talbot and your daughter’s liaison may be a thing of the past by now? You’ll tell me if he’s no longer interested in Charlotte, won’t you? Should the man be available, my daughter would be eager to help him recover from his disappointment.”
Not if he had anything to say about it. Eden couldn’t leave fast enough. Charlotte was going to marry Talbot if it was the last thing he did.
Chapter Three
August 1288
“Charlotte.” Jane swept into the bed chamber. “What is taking you so long? We’re expected in the great hall. It’s not polite to keep our hostess waiting.”
“How do I look?” Charlotte spun around. She was wearing a blue-green, fine linen bliaut laced up the back, giving her a curved shape. A fawn-colored chemise peeked out from the bliaut’s split, from hem to waist. Small embroidered leaves decorated the neckline, upper armband, and ran along the split and hem. A quick glance at Jane and she froze. “I’ll find another dress.”
“Don’t you dare. That color is perfect with your dark hair and brings out the green in your eyes.” Jane grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room. “There’s a small group in the great hall: my parents, two other lords and their wives, I can never remember their names, the DeGraws, and Martha – of course, she’s competing in the tournament – then our hostess, Lady Reynolds. And her daughter, Lisbeth.”
“Attending the tournament sounded like a wonderful idea in London. Now, I’m not sure. What if he’s not here?”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll have a lovely time.” Jane coaxed her down the hall toward the stairs. “Didn’t I mention that the Talbots are in the hall?”
Charlotte’s halting steps slowed to a stop as Jane’s words registered. She swiveled on her heel and faced her friend.
“You told me no such thing.”
“Yes, but you’re no longer nervous. The relief on your face speaks for itself. Ah, love.” Jane pulled her along, all smiles.
“Weren’t you the one who kept telling me it was only a distraction and the budding romance would never grow? You mentioned it would die on the vine like bad grapes.”
“When will you learn not to listen to everything I say? The man loves you.” Jane became serious for the moment. “You are almost as lucky as he is.”
Charlotte thought about the riddle of words for a moment before she smiled and gripped Jane’s hand.
“All the Talbot boys are here: Donald, Graham, and,” she paused, “Hugh.”
After Jane’s dinner party, Hugh returned here, and she went to Sagamore Hall. Now, standing in front of Glen Kirk’s great hall, she was excited and fearful at the same time.
Charlotte clenched her fists tightly, until her nails dug into her palms, but she barely noticed. The only thing she was aware of was the sound of her heart throbbing against her chest. She was more nervous meeting his parents than having an audience with the queen. Or was she afraid Jane’s words were more than a jest? Had their budding romance faded? Foolish girl. He loves you. Calm yourself.
She took a deep breath, opened her fists, flexing her hands, and stepped into the great hall with Jane at her side. She gazed at the surroundings. Silk tapestries of battles and beautiful landscapes covered the whitewashed stone walls. The sideboard, dressed in linens, displayed silver plate. Family banners hung from the rafters. The hearth, cold for August, was filled with flowers. The family crest hung above the mantle. The hall was warm, comfortable, and filled with a soft, fresh aroma.
Benches and tables pushed up along the walls left plenty of room for everyone to congregate.
“Charlotte.”
Her eyes fluttered for a moment at the soft, mellow sound of Hugh’s voice. With a deliberate, casual movement, she turned and faced him. His tender gaze made her breathe slower, deeper, happier. She was after his heart and had every intention of capturing it.
“Hello, Hugh.” The man was more handsome than she remembered. Dark compelling eyes, black, short wavy hair, a full neat beard. His smile made her heart race. This was perfect, life was perfect, Hugh was perfect.
“May I escort you both around the hall?” he asked.
“Please excuse me,” Jane said. “I’ll leave you two and say hello to some friends.” Jane headed for a group of people on the other side of the room.
“That leaves just the two of us.” Charlotte placed her hand on his extended arm and reveled in Hugh covering it with his.
“How was London?” he asked, as they made their way among the crowd.
“Hot and awful,” she said, using her hand to fan herself for emphasis.
“No one should be in London this time of year.” With a slight dip of his head he said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“London hasn’t been the same without you,” her voice a whisper.
“That pleases—”
“Hugh. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
She and Hugh both turned as two men stepped toward them. There was no mistaking these men for anyone but Hugh’s brothers. The family resemblance was striking, but so was the magnetism that surrounded them, commanding others to turn for a glimpse when they passed. She found herself smiling and she hadn’t met them yet.
“I had hoped to spare you the pain of meeting my brothers,” he whispered, loud enough for them to hear.
“I’m Donald, the smart brother. If you need anything, you can come to me.”
A second brother moved to her other side. “Donald may think he’s the smart one, but don’t be fooled. There are plenty of times he doesn’t know his—”
“Brother, let her at least get to know your better side before you corrupt her.” Donald dipped his head slightly and said, “Forgive Graham. I assure you he is the one who doesn’t know his arse from his elbow.”
She couldn’t control a burst of laughter.
“We’re going to get along fine. Hugh,” Donald said without taking his eyes from Charlotte. “You don’t mind if I take your prized possession for a turn around the hall. I thought not.”
She gasped as his choice of words and swagger.
He extended his arm.
“Humor him,” Hugh said. “He’s harmless.”
“I’ll chaperone,” Graham said, and stood at her other side.
The small group strolled through the hall in easy conversation about nothing in particular and everything in general. The brothers stopped and introduced her to several archers who were competing in the tournament. The group was a small community of avid competitors that traveled from one competition to another.
A quick glance at Hugh found him in conversation with John. He didn’t seem at all pleased.
“Don’t you agree, Charlotte?” Graham asked.
“I’m sorry, I was—”
“Staring at Hugh. I know,” Graham said.
“Forgive me.” Heat ran up her neck and settled in her cheeks.
“Now I’ve made you flush. Hugh is a fine man to look at. If it is any consolation, he’s,” Graham looked over her head at Hugh, “furious we’ve stolen you away.”
The three made a good team, teasing each other mercilessly, and she knew without a doubt standing with each other when needed.
“He’ll do fine without you.” It wasn’t Donald’s teasing that got under her skin, but his subtle, sarcastic tone was wearing thin. Changing the topic was the best she could do at the moment.
She tur
ned to the people in front of her, and said, “I’m looking forward to the tournament.”
“As an observer or a competitor?” a woman asked.
“A competitor. Why else would I come all this way from London?” Charlotte smiled sweetly.
“Why else, indeed,” Donald muttered under his breath.
Again, she glanced at Hugh and hoped he would come to her rescue, but he was in a deep conversation with Martha and Lord DeGraw. The woman laughed too loud and touched his arm too much to her liking.
By the time the three joined Hugh, DeGraw was gone and Jane was with him and Martha.
“Brother,” Donald said to Hugh. “We’ve run the gauntlet of the hall and brought back your fair maiden unharmed.”
“The stroll was most enjoyable. You take our jests well and didn’t scold me once.” Donald replaced Charlotte’s hand on Hugh’s arm.
“Martha, I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to Hugh’s brothers, Donald and Graham,” Jane said.
Graham stepped between Hugh and Martha, nudging him toward Charlotte.
“Is this your first visit to Glen Kirk?” Graham asked.
“Yes, it is remote, lovely, and cool,” Martha said fanning herself.
“The porch then. The breeze there is refreshing.” Graham offered her his arm.
Flustered, a dazed Martha didn’t know what to do. Charlotte had no intention of coming to her aid. On the contrary, she had a fleeting desire to kiss both of Hugh’s brothers on their cheeks.
“Yes, that would be lovely,” Martha said.
The three moved toward the door.
“Your family does take care of you.” Charlotte stared as the small group moved outside.
“My brothers can be a bit outrageous and sound affected, but it is all in good fun. It’s our way of tormenting each other.”
“No one would ever know from the way your brothers ushered Martha away.”
“We stand by one another. It’s a very secure feeling. Although that wasn’t always the case. We tattled on each other, laughed when the other was punished, and were merciless when we teased. We’ve matured since then.”
“Not everyone.”
His eyes grew openly amused and he laughed, deep, warm, and rich, until he had to wipe his eyes from tearing.
“Donald should catch up any time now. He is the youngest, by twenty-two months.”
“Is John coming back? I noticed you speaking to him before he left. I thought he might be competing in the tournament?”
“John prefers swords to arrows.”
“I thought there would be drawn weapons before. Neither of you seemed at all pleased.”
“He was telling me some decades-old gossip about a family feud. Nothing important, I assure you. I told him it was a waste of his time, but he insists on digging deeper.”
“And Lord DeGraw?” she asked.
“His lordship wanted to know if I was going to the Champagne Fair in Lagny this year.”
“Are you? It’s not far from my grand-père’s chateau and the winery. Like beer is to Lord Reynolds, wine is to my family. You could visit with Jeanne Marie and Isabella. You’d like them.”
“Are you trying to cast me aside?” She stared at him for a moment, fearing there was more to his jest.
“No,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I love you.”
“Why so serious?” He kissed her nose. “I’d rather not talk about business or leaving you. I’d much rather introduce you to my family. Lord Reynolds is in London. As his Constable, Father is busy, but he and Mother are eager to meet you. I told them we’d see them outside.”
Her heart quickened at the thought of meeting his family. As close as he was with them, what would happen if they didn’t find her worthy? Would Hugh abandon their plans? She had to stop this line of thinking. Why would his family find her lacking? She was smart, not bad looking, and… she’d just have to make them like her. Nothing else was acceptable.
Hugh led Charlotte to the garden.
“I was not looking for a companion when we met. Being one of London’s most eligible bachelors comes with its own problems. Women and their mothers plot and plan contrived meetings that are supposed to appear spontaneous. Most situations make me laugh, inwardly. I would never embarrass the women. Their fathers and future husbands are my clients.”
“I’ve seen the way some of the mothers look at you. Like a morsel of food ready to be gobbled up.”
“I was under the impression that finding a woman who could put two words together, think for herself, and be charming all at the same time was impossible, until I met you. I realized that no matter how long or hard I searched for love, every path would lead me back to you.”
He raised her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm, and never took his eyes off her face.
His words were beautiful, but his demonstration of affection unnerved her.
“Hugh, people are staring.”
“They are jealous.” He lowered her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. They walked toward the golden-leafed beech tree at the other end of the garden near a low stone wall. A trestle table stood to one side, with several chairs and benches grouped together in the shade of the branches.
“Is that your father? The man standing near the table. It must be.” Charlotte glanced at his father, than at him. “It’s you, but older.”
“Yes. Mother is next to him. Donald looks more like her.” They hurried along the last few yards. The walk hadn’t been taxing, yet he was out of breath. He glanced at Charlotte. She, too, was short winded.
“I hoped ye would join us,” his mother said as they approached. They sat on the bench next to her.
Donald and Graham, their duty with Martha over, arrived, carrying a bowl of apples and mugs of beer.
“What Mother means is she hoped you’d present Charlotte. You should give her a proper introduction to the Chieftain of Clan MacDougall of Gilmar,” Donald said.
“Chieftain?” Charlotte sprang up and gaped at Gareth.
“Not me, Moira is the Clan’s Chieftain.”
Charlotte’s head whipped around and faced Moira.
“It’s an inherited responsibility,” Hugh said as he encouraged her to return to her seat. “That our chieftain doesn’t take lightly. Most of the villagers in Glen Kirk are from Gilmar.”
“That’s enough, Hugh. Dinna bore the poor lass with ancient things.”
“No, please go on. Your story is not boring at all.”
“Gilmar was a wee community at the mercy of raiders. We dinna want to lose another person. Lord Reynolds gave us a ready-made village to live in and Gareth to protect us.”
“Will the young woman ye two were escorting be joining us?” Moira asked Donald and Graham.
“No. She’s speaking with Lord DeGraw,” Donald said.
“Martha was delightful. All her questions were about you, Hugh. Not one bit of interest in me. The girl wounded my pride. It almost makes me want to go into your business, heaven forbid, so I can attract people who want my attention,” Donald said.
“Martha did no such thing. That’s how rumors get started,” Graham said. “She didn’t ask about you, Hugh. However, she did speak about Lady Charlotte and her archery ability.”
“As a reward for listening to her drone on and on about both of you, we’re sampling Lord Reynolds’ new brew. It’s tasty, probably his best yet. I brought a mug for Charlotte.” Donald raised his mug in salute.
“Jane told me Lord Reynolds brews the best beer in England.” Charlotte took a sip. Everyone was aware Lord Reynolds had a wonderful recipe. He didn’t share it with others, but he eagerly shared his beer. It was a privilege to drink his private stock. “She is definitely right.”
“Father, I told you Charlotte was refined, in spite of her affection for Hugh.”
His father picked up his full tankard.
“Are you going to present this lovely lady, or are Mother and Father supposed to guess who she is?” Donald flashed a warm
mischievous grin.
Donald was right of course. The formal introduction seemed needless now. Charlotte fit in as if she was already family.
“I would like to present Lady Charlotte Eden, daughter of Lord Miles Eden, Earl of Sagamore – recently from Châlons-sur-Marne, France.” He squeezed her hand and glanced at his father.
Gareth froze, his mug halfway to his lips. The moment passed. He took a long draft then refilled his mug.
Hugh glanced at his mother. Her face was placid, without any indication that something was amiss, but his father hadn’t recovered as quickly.
“Father, do you know the earl?” Hugh asked.
“Only by name.”
“Will yer parents be joining ye this weekend?” Moira asked, after a glance at her husband.
“No. My father is traveling. My mother passed away when I was small.”
Hugh stared at his father. Tremors shook the mug, but not enough to slosh the beer over the side.
Silent signals continued to pass between his parents. Puzzled, he became alert and ready to ward off some unknown danger. But from where? Could the threat be Charlotte? Impossible.
“I’m surprised to hear Sagamore Hall is occupied. I was under the impression the earldom was vacant,” Gareth said.
“Oh no. We lived with my grandparents in Châlons, on the Rue du Labatrelle. Father often spoke of his home. I was surprised when he announced he was closing the chateau to live in England.”
Deep lines creased his father’s brow.
Hugh rose and joined him. “Are you feeling ill?”
Gareth glanced at him. “It’s nothing. Just old wounds.”
“It’s more than that.” Hugh pushed for an answer.
His father let out a deep sigh, and for a moment, studied him intently. What was his father debating?
Hugh: Pirates of Britannia Connected World (Sons of Sagamore Book 1) Page 3