Page 70 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“No,” said Mason dully. “Call her ugly again and I’ll kill you.”

Oswald ignored him. “Then you went haring straight up to her and didn’t emerge until supper time when she hung off your every word and clearly thought you were the hero of the hour.”

“I need to get drunk,” said Mason, pouring himself another wine.

“And let’s face it, you’ve been like a dog with a bone with her from day one. Anyone so much as looks at her too long and you growl. You’re insanely possessive.”

Mason shifted in his seat. Well, that might be true enough. “Are you going to join me?” he held up the jug.

“I think one of us should keep a clear head. Besides, you know I can’t hold my ale.” Oswald watched him take another deep draught of wine. “What I’m trying to say is this, Brother. That even if you thought your motivation in marrying Linnet was unprincipled, I don’t think you were aware of what truly compelled you.”

Mason frowned. “Which was?”

“You took one look at Linnet and saw your future.”

XXV

Linnet was in her temporary bedchamber, braiding her hair, when she heard the soft knock on the door. Something about how lightly the knuckles grazed the door made her pause. She remembered Mason telling her to always be accompanied, so she crept to the adjoining dressing room where Gertie and Cuthbert were now bedded down and called softly to her maid. Gertie woke at once only being in a light doze.

“What is it, milady?” she whispered.

“Someone’s at my door,” said Linnet. “It’s not Lady Doverdale and I don’t dare answer it in my nightgown in case it’s a stranger.”

Gertrude’s mouth set determinedly and she marched through the other room to wrench the door open. “Oh sir, it’s you,” she whispered and turned back to Linnet, who was hurrying to join her. To her surprise it was Oswald at the door.

He looked slightly embarrassed. “Can I come in?” he whispered. Gertie opened her mouth to deny him, but Linnet opened the door wider and he slid in. “Linnet, I realize this is highly irregular.”

“What is it? Not Mason?” She felt something clutch at her chest.

“He’s not doing so well,” admitted Oswald looking pained.

“Is he sick?” her voice rose an octave.

“Shhhhh!” cautioned Gertie.

“Heartsick maybe. And I’m not going to lie to you, drunk.”

“You’ve come to tell her the master’s drunk?” asked Gertie in disgust.

Linnet shushed her maid. “Is he missing me?” she asked with a catch in her voice.

“Ridiculously. He read your illustrated tales and got completely demoralized.”

“Demoralized? Why?”

“Thinking he wasn’t the chivalrous knight of your dreams,” said Oswald gravely.

“But . . . but those are just silly tales,” said Linnet. “What has that to do with—?” She huffed. “Let me get my cloak.”

“Where are you going, milady?” squeaked Gertie.

“Shhhh, Gertie! You must sleep in my bed and pull the covers over your head in case Lady Doverdale checks.”

“What?” her maid whisper-shrieked.

“Oswald, you must take me to him and then you must lead me back before day breaks.”

He nodded. Linnet slipped on a pair of her old cloth slippers and padded along the corridor after her brother-in-law. To her surprise, he led her to a low wooden door rather than carrying on down the corridor.