Page 62 of His Betrothed
Chapter 17
Spencer’s uneasiness increased as he read the inscription on the headstone:
MARY GRANT
AGE2MONTHS
He awkwardly knelt down. Roselyn had lost both a husbandanda child—why had she never told him?
With almost grim self-punishment, he thought back to his comments on her mourning clothes, as if she didn’t have a right to mourn.
He had had little time to mourn his fatherbefore he left for Spain. To survive, he’d been forced to adopt another identity. He had put his family—even his father—away in his mind, as if they didn’t exist.
He had left the comforting of his mother to Alex, and could only hope his brother had been up to the task.
But who had comforted Roselyn? Who had been with her when she’d held her dying child—or had she been alone?
As the sun disappearedbehind a cloud, he leaned forward and touched the letters spelling the baby’s name. There were dying flowers laid on the grave, as if Roselyn couldn’t visit frequently. It had been a year now, and maybe the hurt wasn’t as fresh—and he himself had kept her busy.
But how did a mother get over the death of a child?
At the nearby crackling of dried grass, Spencer whirled about on his knees to finda thin, older man staring down at him, wearing a large mustache on his lined face. Spencer was aghast that he’d allowed someone near without hearing him, and that he’d never thought to carry his knife for protection. Had Roselyn so befuddled his mind?
The man made no threatening moves, so Spencer took his time using his cane to stand.
“I am Francis Heywood,” the man said gruffly, “the bailiffof Wakesfield Manor. You seem to be the soldier my daughter Charlotte met.”
Before Spencer could speak, Heywood continued, “But I must say, I asked at the garrison about you, and there is no soldier with a brokenleg.” He looked pointedly at the splint on Spencer’s right calf.
“Determined, aren’t you?” Spencer said.
The bailiff shrugged. “It is my duty to protect those on the manor—especiallythe women. My daughter warned of a man bothering Roselyn Grant. Now who are you, and why do you keep wandering this estate?”
“I am Spencer Thornton.” What was the point of keeping his identity secret from the Heywood family now, when even the Spanish knew where to find him?
Heywood’s only visible reaction was a slight widening of his eyes. “How long have you been on Wight, my lord?”
“Over afortnight.”
“Why did you not come to Wakesfield Manor?”
“So you knew about the betrothal contract?” Spencer asked.
The older man nodded.
“Why didn’t Roselyn know that this manor is now mine?”
“When she came here, her husband and child were dying. This was the only place she could go—how could I tell her that it was no longer in her family? Wight is so far from London, that I did not thinkyou would visit often.” He paused. “I assume she knows the truth now?”
“She doesn’t believe me—she doesn’t believe her father could do such a thing without telling her.”
Heywood looked grim. “Lady Roselyn usually sees the good in people—and when she doesn’t see it, she pretends it is there.”
“Did she pretend with Philip Grant?” Spencer asked, surprised at how tense he felt.
“Why do you care,my lord?” Heywood studied him with an uncomfortable intensity. “I thought you did not desire marriage to Lady Roselyn.”
“She made her own decision on our marriage. But what about Grant?” He pointed to the grass-covered grave between them.
