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“Ursula is not really ill,” Aimee continued sounding aggrieved. “She is only overwhelmed by everything, but by this evening, Hilda will have her convinced she must be put to bed with a posset and no visitors.”

Konrad snorted. “On her wedding night? Her husband might have something to say about that.”

Aimee turned her head to look across the table at Renlow. “Do you think so?” she asked doubtfully. “Only, Sir Renlow seems to me …”

“Yes?” he asked, rather more sharply than the occasion warranted.

“A rather considerate sort of man,” she said flatly.

Konrad opened his mouth to argue that even a considerate man would hardly stand for such a thing when it struck him that if anyone would abide by such nonsense it would be Renlow. “Who is that?” he asked instead, nodding toward the commanding looking woman Gerold Ankatel had been exchanging words with moments earlier.

Aimee’s eyes widened. “The Widow Hemmings?” she whispered with sudden misgiving. “Why? What has she said?”

“She wanted to send her son up to sit with your sister,” he explained dryly.

Two pink spots appeared in Aimee’s cheeks. “The impertinence!” she spluttered.

“Did some previous attachment exist between them?” he guessed shrewdly.

“Certainly not!” Aimee responded hotly. “’Tis only that her late husband was a friend and acquaintance of our father’s. When he came of age, Willard felt compelled to offer for one of us. The Hemmings owned the premises next door when Father had property on the wharf. We have known each other’s family for years.” She looked as though she would say more but pressed her lips together instead.

It occurred to him that before her father had accumulated his wealth, a fellow merchant’s son would have been viewed as a decent match for one of his daughters. He cast a look of consideration at Willard Hemming and found his gaze resting on Aimee. As if growing aware of eyes upon him, Willard’s gaze shifted to Kentigern before the young man visibly blanched, turning hurriedly toward his mother.

“He offered for Ursula or for you?” Konrad heard himself enquire in a growl.

“I’m not sure he really had a preference,” Aimee admitted frankly. “As it was our father’s fortune that was his object after all.”

As this drew a rather unwelcome parallel between himself and Willard Hemming, Konrad shifted in his seat. He wanted to ask how it was that Aimee had ended up as his bride, but this was probably not the time or place for such a question. He fancied he knew the answer in any case. Her chicken-hearted sister would likely have expired on the spot rather than join her lot in life to his.

Instead, he turned to contemplate the platters the servers were now bringing out of small pastry tarts both sweet and savory and many large cheeses. This must surely be the final course, and the banquet would soon be drawing to its close. Then he could hustle his kinswomen, his new bride included, back to their rooms at The Jennet Treewhere he could take off this damned tunic, with its uncomfortable embellishments which stuck in him every way he turned, and take his ease.

It did not dawn on him until the remains of the meal were being cleared away that the celebrations were far from over and done with. His father-in-law cleared his throat and rose from his seat with an air of ceremonial gravity. He and Renlow in turn were solemnly presented, first one and then the other, with large keys. Konrad stared down at his palm and the key a moment and then back at Ankatel.

“Well, well,” the old man said, rocking back on his heels and tucking his hands into his belt. “I was thinking you young people will need somewhere to set up your households here in Caer Lyoness, so I’ve bought you both a fine house in the best part of town.” He beamed at them and nodded his head, looking vastly pleased with himself.

Set up home here? Konrad thought blankly. He looked from Ankatel to the large key and then, slowly, to his bride. Her lips were curved into a smile, and she was gazing back at him, happy and expectant. Konrad cleared his throat. “I had not –” he started, then stopped himself from uttering anything undiplomatic. “I did not expect such a gift,” he said gruffly. “When you have already done so much for me already, restoring my former home and lands to my possession.”

Ankatel waved this aside. “A man who travels the country so much as you do will need more than one base,” he pointed out jovially. “Thanks to my daughters, I have been hearing all about the life of a knight who follows the tournaments. And I must say, I do not think it becomes your dignity to be dragging a wife from pillar to post.”

Konrad shot a startled look at Aimee. She had attended the tournaments? Her face was poppy red now.

“Father!” she remonstrated in a strangled voice.

Since he had not had the smallest intention of taking any wife of his to the tournaments, Konrad hardly knew what reply to make to this. Fortunately, Renlow took over at this point, stammering out his profuse thanks.

Konrad turned to his bride. “You knew about the house already?” he asked.

“I did,” she answered, her gaze clear and open. “Though I have not yet seen it. Father let me pick out the furnishings for it.”

“Furnishings?” He didn’t know why he was startled by this point.

She nodded and her smile wavered. “I hope you don’t think I took too much upon myself –”

“Of course not,” he cut her off abruptly. “That is entirely your province. I know nothing whatsoever of setting up households.”

7

It was not until they were making their way through the streets toward their new home that Aimee’s excitement started to wane. She and Lord Kentigern were following along behind the first lot of attendants who, with many arms, supported her two wedding chests above their heads.