Page 69 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“Young fool!” spat his father angrily. “I ought to tan his hide!”

Mason rubbed his eyes and winced.

“What’s up with you?” grunted his father.

“Didn’t sleep,” he answered brusquely.

“Out whoring, were you?” snorted his father. “Well I’ve no symp—”

“No, I was not out whoring,” roared Mason, flinging his goblet of wine across the room so hard it bounced off the wall and rolled all the way back to his feet. “For fuck’s sake!” He glared at his father. “I couldn’t sleep because I am in danger of losing my wife, which is something you wouldn’t have the first fucking clue about even if you have been married three times. Because let me explain this to you father,” his voice was trembling with rage, and he only managed to lower his voice with the greatest of effort. “Wives are not like livestock and you do not breed them like horses. And if you ever speak of Linnet dying of a disease again, so help me, I will—”

“Mason,” Oswald had stepped in front of him. “Mason, calm down. Calm down, Mason.”

The red mist obscured almost everything for a moment, but after a few seconds Mason managed to see his brother’s mouth moving and realized Oswald was talking to him. Mason shook his head and let Oswald shove him back into a chair. He went hot, he went cold. He could suddenly hear again.

His brother was talking sharply to their father, “If you haven’t got anything useful to say, just keep your mouth shut for fuck’s sake,” he scolded.

And suddenly that struck Mason as the funniest thing he had heard in years. His prim and proper brother cursing his sire out. He started to laugh and then found he couldn’t stop. Oswald and Baron Vawdrey stared. Tears rolled down his face. His ribs hurt.

“I’m getting a physician,” yelped their father, backing out the room. “He’s gone raving mad!”

Oswald shut the door after him and shot a look of concern at Mason. “Listen to me Mason,” he urged. “This whole business is going to be resolved. You need to keep your head.”

Mason covered his face with his hand. “I’ve made a mess of everything,” he groaned.

“What’s that?” Oswald looked, if anything, even more worried. “You mean with Lord Schaeffer?”

“No, not him. With Linnet.”

“Linnet?”

Mason scrubbed his eyes, unable to speak.

Oswald had crouched down before him. “Mason, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Linnet thinks the sun rises and sets with you.”

“You didn’t read that fucking book.”

Oswald looked bewildered. “Book? What book?”

“Sir bloody Maurency of Jorde.”

Oswald’s expression cleared. “I have read that book Mason,” he corrected him crisply. “It’s a popular book. What has that to do with anything?”

“That’s what she thinks a knight is.”

Oswald sighed. “I’m sure even Linnet would realize that is a highly romanticized version of a knight,” he pointed out. “I’m getting you a drink.” He picked up the goblet which now had a huge dent in the side of it. Putting that back down, he picked up Baron Vawdrey’s abandoned wine and passed it to Mason with an awkward pat of his shoulder.

Mason tipped it back and swallowed the wine down. “It’s not just the book,” he admitted, not meeting Oswald’s gaze.

His brother took his cup and refilled it before passing it back to him. Then he fetched the jug and placed it on the low table between them and pulled up a chair. “Tell me,” he said simply.

“You remember,” said Mason slowly. “The day after I was married? When all I cared about was counting how much wealth Linnet had bought me? And you said—” he broke off to rub his temple. “You said that I should have given her soft words. And I laughed, like the bastard I am, and said I had only married her for her money—” He found himself unable to speak another word and took another gulp of wine instead.

Oswald waited patiently a moment but then realized nothing else was forthcoming. “I do remember Mason,” he said steadily. “I think I probably remember it better than you. Do you know why?”

Mason shook his head.

“Because I realized, even at the time, that you were full of shit, Brother,” said Oswald ruefully. He settled back into his seat with a soft laugh. “I remember I said something about even ugly women deserving kindness and your eyes blazed up with murder and you accused me of being jealous. Do you remember?”