WolfeStrike (de Wolfe Pack Generations Book 2) Page 15

  Isabella frowned. “He did not compromise me,” she said flatly. “Some servants saw us kiss in the garden of Castle Questing and, suddenly, everyone has me with child and the fact that I must marry. But it is not true, I say. I have sworn this to my father and mother and brother. I am not certain Ronan believes me, though. Men always think the worst.”

  Barbara stopped working, too. Both she and Lenore sat down near Isabella, enthralled with a shocking tale of a jilted bride.

  “But your uncles and cousins and brother went after him,” Lenore said, excitement in her tone. “I heard rumor that they killed him!”

  Isabella looked at her, careful in her reply. “They went to force him to either marry me or demand compensation,” she said evenly. “Ronan was there. He told me that Steffan put up a terrific fight rather than capitulate. When he tried to kill Alexander, Tor killed him. But he was only defending Alexander and had Steffan not fought them, it would not have been necessary.”

  While Lenore looked scandalized at the tale, Barbara wasn’t so shocked. “You do not seem very upset about it,” she said. “Why are you not more upset?”

  Isabella turned her attention to Barbara. The woman was watching her very closely. Even suspiciously. She shrugged.

  “I was at first,” she said. “I was upset that he had fled on our wedding day, but I spent the day speaking to my grandmother and she helped me to see that Steffan was no great loss. In fact, now I am quite happy he fled. He would have made a terrible husband. While I am not happy for the man’s death, he should not have tried to kill Alexander. It is his own fault.”

  Barbara was looking at her as if she expected something more – more emotion, more drama – but Isabella gave her nothing more. Lenore, however, sighed sadly.

  “Were you not in love with him, Bella?” she asked.

  Isabella thought on that. “I thought I was,” she said. “But when he ran away, I realized that he was not worthy of my love. He told me that he loved me and if that was true, he would have never left. I cannot waste any tears over a man so unworthy, Lenore. It was a harsh lesson to learn, I suppose, but I am better for it.”

  She sounded firm, resolute. Lenore nodded as if in complete support while Barbara stood up to resume her tasks.

  “You are so right,” she said. “He did not deserve you, Bella. You are being very brave about this.”

  Isabella watched Lenore rise to resume her tasks, also. “There will be more suitors,” she said. “I will simply be smarter the next time.”

  Barbara glanced at her. “Do you have any in mind?”

  Isabella grinned. “I do not,” she said. “But the north is full of eligible men. And speaking of eligible men, we must find you two suitors as well. You do not want to stay at Blackpool for the rest of your life as Tor orders you around, do you?”

  She said it lightly, but given what she knew about the pair, it was anything but a light subject. She watched Barbara’s face as the woman smiled thinly.

  “It is a good life here,” she said. “I do not think I shall ever marry.”

  “But why not? Don’t you want children and a home of your own?”

  Barbara shook her head. “I am content,” she said simply. Then, she looked over at Lenore as the woman arranged the last of the bread that had been brought out. “Take care and put a cloth over that bread, Lenore. It will get cold before Tor eats it.”

  She was making it clear that she had no desire to discuss marriage and Isabella let the subject drop. There wasn’t much more she could say on it, anyway, and she didn’t want to be pummeled with more questions about Steffan. She was more damaged about it than she let on, but she didn’t want Barbara and Lenore to know that.

  She didn’t want The Vipers to know her weakness.

  Just as Lenore was covering up the bread with a cloth, Ronan entered the hall. He had deposited his sister in the great hall before making a quick run to the stables to check on his horse, which had come up lame on the ride from Newcastle. But he was back now, making haste towards the crystal wine decanters. Like a good hunter, he had them in his sights.

  Her brother was a wine connoisseur.

  Barbara didn’t seem too thrilled that Ronan commandeered an entire decanter for himself, but she didn’t protest. She simply stood there and frowned at him as he drank it and smacked his lips. Perhaps she was thinking about berating him, but he was saved from a lashing when Tor and Blayth appeared.

  Then, Barbara forgot all about Ronan and Lenore forgot all about the covered bread.

  After that, no one else, and nothing else, in the hall existed to them but Tor.

  “Welcome home, Tor,” Barbara said, indicating the fine wine on the tables. “Please sit. Surely you must rest and relax after your harrowing adventure. We heard all about it.”

  Tor barely glanced at her, but that was usual. The women were fixtures in his home but that was all. He didn’t even really consider them family members. Simply Jane’s sisters, his obligations. Never let it be said that Tor de Wolfe hadn’t fulfilled his wife’s dying wish.

  He sat at the table and Blayth with him.

  “It was simply a task,” he said with disinterest. “What food do you have for us?”

  Barbara was pouring the wine into fine pewter cups. “We butchered the old sow,” she said. “I have pork with beans cooking, boiled carrots, peas, stewed apples, and bread. I will have the servants bring it out.”

  She waved at Lenore, who promptly called to the servants. Guests had arrived and the food was to be presented, so the sisters went into full chatelaine mode. As Blayth commented on the delicious wine, Barbara interrupted the conversation.

  “We heard what happened to Steffan de Featherstone,” she said as if there were no one else in the room. “What you did was a brave and noble thing, Tor. We are very proud of you.”

  Tor looked at her. “You will not speak of that here,” he said. “In fact, you will not speak of it at all. It is none of your affair, Barbara. Please keep silent on it.”

  Barbara lowered her head, properly rebuked, but coming from Tor, it didn’t even sound like he was scolding her because he said it in such a way that it sounded more like a request. The man didn’t get worked up over anything, not even a statement that rudely interrupted his conversation with his uncle.

  “Of course,” she said. “My apologies.”

  “Please make sure the food is brought to us and then you may leave.”

  Barbara wasn’t offended; that was usual with Tor. They rarely all ate together. “As you wish,” she said. “Do you require anything else?”

  Tor shook his head, about to wave her off, but he suddenly stopped. “Possibly,” he said. “Are all of the chambers in the apartments prepared?”

  Barbara paused thoughtfully. “Not all of them,” she said. “We usually keep them void of bedding when not in use so that the rats do not nest. Why do you ask?”

  Tor picked up his cup. “Because we shall have visitors in the next few days,” he said, but he turned to Blayth as he continued. “I have invited Gilbert de Featherstone and his daughter to visit.”

  Blayth’s eyebrows lifted. “They would visit the man who had a hand in Steffan’s death?”

  Tor shrugged. “I did not tell them that part,” he said. “I only told them that Steffan was killed when he tried to kill Alexander. I did not say who delivered the death blow.”

  “Ah,” Blayth said. “Then he does not know.”

  “He does not.”

  “But why invite him here?”

  Tor took a drink of his wine before answering. “Because the man seemed genuinely horrified at his son’s behavior,” he said. “His knight was positive that the House of de Wolfe would seek some kind of retribution for it. They both seemed very worried about it and apologized profusely for Steffan’s behavior. I received the impression that both Gilbert and his knight were decent men. Steffan seems to have mistreated his father terribly. I thought mayhap an invitation to sup here would ease their fears that we
are going to take our armies and burn them to the ground. Moreover, they are close to Blackpool and I am always willing to make an ally.”

  Blayth didn’t think that sounded strange. “That is not a bad idea,” he said. “But you should probably be honest with the man and tell him you are the one who actually killed his son. Better to hear it from you than from someone else. You were not the only man in the tavern that night, and word can get around.”

  Tor conceded the point. “True enough,” he said. “I will tell him myself.”

  “That is wise,” Blayth said. “You mentioned a knight. Who is it?”

  “Someone by the name of Fraser le Kerque,” Tor said, sipping more wine. “I’ve never met the man, nor have I heard of his family, but he told me that his noble family lost their wealth and that is why he serves de Featherstone. He must make his fortune.”

  Blayth looked thoughtful. “Le Kerque? From where?”

  “Welton Castle,” he said. “The man trained with the de Winter war machine and they are very selective of who they train. That means he must have talent.”

  Blayth nodded. “True enough,” he said. “Welton Castle… I believe that is in Lincolnshire. I seem to remember hearing about it, once.”

  “You cannot remember shaving Uncle Alec’s head, but you can remember a castle from Lincolnshire?”

  Tor was grinning as he said it and Blayth burst into soft laughter. “Such is the nature of my memory sometimes,” he said. “What about the daughter? What do you know of her?”

  Tor thought on that question. He probably knew a lot more than anyone else who knew her did, as she had confided in him about many things. He realized that he was eager to see her again, hoping she and her father would come sooner rather than later. Or perhaps they wouldn’t come at all and she would forget about him altogether.

  He didn’t like the thought of that.

  He was more eager to see her than her father, but he didn’t want to let on.

  “All I know is that she has lived most of her life in London with her mother,” he said casually. “She’s a beauty, though. An intelligent young woman.”

  “Married?”

  “Nay.”

  “Mayhap a prospect for you, Tor?”

  Tor lowered his gaze, chagrinned to realize that he was fighting off a blush. “Certainly not,” he said. “She is young and beautiful, and I am far too old. Besides, she called me provincial. Not exactly romantic talk.”

  Blayth snorted. “You are provincial, but you are also the smartest man I have ever known and one of the best warriors I have ever seen,” he said. “That will count for something for the right young woman someday.”

  “Do not worry about me, Uncle. I was married once. I will not marry again.”

  Wisely, Blayth changed the subject. Speaking of Jane or marriage or even of Lioncross Abbey were taboo subjects with Tor, so the family avoided them for the most part. The brief topic of Isalyn de Featherstone was forgotten.

  At least, by Tor and Blayth.

  But there were others who had been listening.

  Isabella had been one of them. She was seated opposite her father and Tor, listening to them talk as she ate a big slab of bread and butter. She wasn’t much interested in the conversation until they mentioned Gilbert de Featherstone’s daughter. The moment Tor said she was a beauty, Isabella found herself looking at Barbara, who hadn’t yet left the hall. She wasn’t close by, but she was close enough to hear what was being said.

  Isabella remembered seeing that expression on her face somewhere before.

  Around the same time Violet le Marr had fallen down those stairs.

  If Isalyn de Featherstone came to visit as Tor said she would, Isabella just knew there was going to be trouble.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Featherstone Manse

  “Where is my daughter now?”

  Gilbert sounded exhausted even as he asked the question.

  They were in his solar at Featherstone, a beautiful chamber that faced out over the front of the manse so he could watch all of the activity. One of those activities had been Fraser and Isalyn returning from Haltwhistle, with no indication as to the mayhem that had happened there that morning. The truth was that Fraser wasn’t sure how to bring it up in a way that wouldn’t send Gilbert spiraling out of control. The man had just lost his son. Fraser thought that perhaps the idea of his daughter in a knight fight might be too much for the man to take.

  He cleared his throat softly.

  “The last I saw, she was heading to her chamber,” he said evenly. “Tor de Wolfe found her, in fact. She told him that she had gone into town to… purchase something.”

  Gilbert didn’t even ask what it was. As the daughter of a merchant, there was no reason for her to be purchasing anything he couldn’t give her for free. She had everything she could possibly want. He shook his head, exasperated, and returned to the missive he had been scribing.

  “She is becoming more trouble than she is worth,” he grumbled, scratching out something on the vellum. “She has said repeatedly that she wishes to go home. I wish she would. It was a mistake to bring her here. I should have known better.”

  Fraser watched him as he wrote out something in his deliberate script. “I never did ask you why you wanted her to come to Featherstone, my lord,” he said. “It is none of my business, of course, but it seemed to me that you were eager to have her here. Was I incorrect in that assumption?”

  Gilbert dipped his quill in his ink pot. “She is my daughter,” he said simply. “My son wanted nothing to do with me and I had hoped that she… it was a foolish hope. When Millicent took her to London, years went by before I ever saw her again and with her mother gone these three years… I thought that I could get to know my daughter again and that she would want to come and live with me. Aye, I was eager to have her here. I am her father, after all. And she is my only living child now.”

  The day after learning of his son’s death, Gilbert seemed steely for the most part, but that last sentence was muttered and, in it, Fraser could see that the pain was still there no matter how much Gilbert tried to cover it.

  “My lord, we do not have to discuss this now,” he said. “Yesterday was a… difficult day. Your daughter is safe now and we can discuss this at a later time, if you wish.”

  But Gilbert shook his head. “We will discuss it now,” he said, glancing at Fraser. “You need not worry about me, Fraser. I have accepted Steffan’s death, although to be perfectly truthful, it seems to me that he left me a long time ago. I will overcome this grief. You needn’t worry.”

  Fraser didn’t press him. Gilbert had been known to be rather cold where his children were concerned, a dysfunctional life that had left him distant from both of them. Therefore, he simply nodded.

  “As you wish, my lord,” he said. “What more do you wish to discuss about your daughter?”

  Gilbert continued scratching on the vellum. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Mayhap there is nothing more to discuss at all except my frustration with her.”

  “I know, my lord,” Fraser said. “It seems that she is a woman grown with many bad habits she has formed from her years in the city.”

  “Like traveling without an escort.”

  “And doing whatever she pleases, whenever she pleases.”

  Gilbert sighed sharply as he stopped writing. “And what skills does she have?” he asked, looking at Fraser. “She never fostered as far as I know. If she did, her mother never told me, but what skills does she have as a wife and chatelaine? A husband is going to want a woman who will not be a burden to him and I fear all my daughter can do is wander around like the village idiot. No man will want her for a wife.”

  Fraser lifted his shoulders. “She is astonishingly beautiful, my lord,” he said. “Based on her beauty alone, she should command a high price.”

  Gilbert cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?” he questioned curiously. “Do you want her? Nay, forget I asked that. I would not burden you with he
r because she would drive you mad and I think too highly of you, Fraser. But I have been thinking…”

  Fraser wasn’t quite over the question he’d just been asked. Do you want her? Gilbert hadn’t given him the opportunity to answer. Did he want her? She was magnificent, but she was as headstrong as a bull. Fraser had always hoped for a woman who was a little more cultured and knew her place in a man’s world. Isalyn did not. He also wanted a marriage with some political connections, perhaps connecting him to a fine warring family where he could find his place in the world.

  If he married Isalyn, he would have a few manses, a merchant business, and unlimited wealth. But that wasn’t the life he wanted. Like Steffan, he didn’t want to be a merchant. He was trained for warfare. He pushed aside the confusion he felt at Gilbert’s question in order to focus on the rest of his statement.

  But I have been thinking…

  “What have you been thinking, my lord?” he asked.

  Gilbert paused a moment before setting his quill down. Then he stood up, stretching his legs as he made his way to the lancet windows that overlooked the courtyard. There was a yew tree outside of this set of windows, one that created flickering shadows when the sun was in a certain position in the sky. Often times, he liked to sit in front of this window, watching the sunlight through the leaves.

  At the moment, however, he wasn’t thinking of leaves or sunlight.

  He was thinking on something far more serious.

  “I was thinking that if I could marry my daughter into a great house, like the House of de Wolfe, it might be the very best thing for her,” he said. “Great houses like that would not tolerate a foolish young woman. They would mold her, shape her, and make something respectable out of her. I would not be ashamed of her.”

  Fraser’s brow furrowed. “Are you ashamed of her?”

  Gilbert shrugged. “She is unruly and unconventional,” he said. “How else am I supposed to feel? Everyone who meets her probably thinks my daughter is a wild animal.”