Page 7

“He wants titles for them, you mean,” Kentigern reflected coldly. Otherwise, they would surely not have approached him. He had nothing else to offer a wife. They must be plain specimens indeed if the king thought to fob one of them off on a scarred and penniless northern nobleman without lands or seat.

“Not necessarily,” Bryce answered cautiously. “The second party I am to approach is a mere third son without the prospect of a title.”

Kentigern regarded him a moment in silence. “I am sure you have a promising career at court,” he said heavily. “So, there is little need for me to explain to you why my involvement in such a scheme is impossible. I have no intention of taking a wife.”

“My lord, I have not yet told you her dowry.” Bryce paused. “It would be a fantastic sum indeed. And in addition,” he added when Kentigern’s eye refused to spark. “Gerold Ankatel would be willing to purchase the Bartree estate back from the Crown.”

Konrad, who had started to walk away, abruptly halted. “What did you say?” he asked harshly.

“All that you once lost could be returned to you,” Bryce said simply.

So flabbergasted was Konrad, fifth Lord Kentigern, by this piece of news that he stood stock still a moment, utterly staggered. Then he swung around, dry-mouthed. “Bartree?” he repeated hoarsely. The land of his forefathers; entrusted to him on the death of his father. The prized estate his family had been custodians of for generations. “You lie!”

Bryce folded his hands in front of him. “No, my lord,” he uttered calmly. “And a substantial fortune to go with it on the occasion of your marriage.”

The vision of Bartree’s turrets that rose before him abruptly vanished from his mind’s eye to be replaced with the appalling reality of how he had last seen it. “The place is a mere blackened shell, falling to wrack and ruin,” Konrad forced his numb lips to point out. “The roof was set alight, and its contents sacked. Your king has invested precious little in its upkeep this past four years.” Even if its ownership returned to him, what could he do with it as it stood now?

“As to that, my lord, Master Ankatel has already pledged the funds to restore your seat to its former glory,” Bryce said, robbing Konrad of all words.

Bartree would be restored and returned to its rightful owner? Was such a thing even possible? It was almost too much to contemplate. He started to shake his head. “But that would cost –”

“A king’s ransom,” Bryce concluded for him. “Luckily, Ankatel has that kind of money at his disposal.” He allowed himself a small smile. “That is the sole reason why he is now acquainted with a king.”

The blood had rushed to Konrad’s face so fast, he almost imagined the scars across his cheek throbbed, even though they no longer held any sensation. He had no words. No hope of stringing together a reply.

“I can see I have given you much to ponder,” Bryce said with a small smile of understanding. “Might I suggest our meeting again in two days’ time?”

Konrad managed a nod.

“That is your man stood yonder, by the water trough?” Bryce gestured.

Konrad managed to make some reply of the affirmative, and Bryce bowed neatly and tottered in Jakeman’s direction to make the arrangements.

3

Aimee checked her appearance one more time in her glass, turning full on and then to the side. She wished she were not so plump, or that she could grow a few inches taller to gain some stature. Her figure was short and sadly dumpy, she thought with a sigh. There was nothing she could do about it now, but mayhap Golda was right, and she should fast for one day a week for religious observance. She had surely grown as tall as ever she would by the age of two and twenty.

Hurrying from her own room into her sister’s, which was across the corridor, she came to an abrupt halt as she beheld its sole occupant. As she had suspected, Ursula was sat braiding her hair into its usual neat arrangement.

“Sister, why is Golda not preparing your hair?” Aimee demanded. “Father employed her for that very purpose.”

Ursula glanced up at Aimee’s elaborate arrangement of beribboned braids looped about a gold circlet. “Golda has done yours very nicely, sister. As for myself, I look much better with plainer arraignment.”

“Nonsense!”

“I should feel foolish,” Ursula said, pressing her lips together. “Done up with ribbons and presented as some marriageable maiden at the feast!”

“You are not wearing this tonight,” Aimee said, whisking a heavy linen veil off Ursula’s lap. “You are an unmarried lady and will not cover your crowning glory.”

Ursula set down her comb, but even as she opened her mouth to protest, Aimee called loudly for Golda. “You have very nice hair, Ursa, and you are to let Golda dress it.” When her sister looked set to argue the point, Aimee fixed a stern gaze on her. “Do you wish to make me look ridiculous? A nice sister I should look with you sat there like a poor relation! What would our guests think to see your younger sister finely arraigned while you sit plain and unadorned?”

Ursula flushed. “I’m sure they would not think anything of the sort!” But Aimee could see the fight had gone out of her sister. She had clearly not considered the contrast they would present.

Golda came in with her heavy tread, and Ursula meekly handed over her comb.

“Which gown were you planning to wear?” She walked about the bed and saw the pale blue garment Ursula had set on the bed. “Not this one, Ursula!” she rolled her eyes. “Why, you’ve owned it above a twelvemonth, and it never displayed you to advantage!”

Ursula threw up her hands. “Oh, very well, Aimee!” she cried. “Dress me however you will.”