Page 11 of Suddenly a Bride
Her husband didn’t even lift his head. “I have business to attend to.”
She stiffened at his dismissal of her. She understood that she was not an important part of his life yet. That might come with time, and she could be patient. But there was still the wedding night, which he probably wouldn’t ignore.
She and Lucy walked around Sir Edmund as if he were a statue in their way and entered what seemed like a dark hole in the wall. She almost wished one or two of the dogs would accompany them. But the oppressive stone corridor was short, and there were torches in wall brackets to light their way. The kitchen itself was almost cheery, with a hearth and oven built into one wall and a heavy wooden table with benches. A full kettle steamed over the fire, and as both women inhaled the wonderful scent, they smiled at each other.
~oOo~
Edmund waited until he was certain Gwyneth was gone before he flung the papers onto the table and sank into a cushioned chair before the hearth. It was the end of summer, so no fire had been lit, but he could have used the cheerfulness. Samuel, his favorite hound, dropped his big head on his knee, and Edmund fondled his furry ears.
He almost wanted to follow the women into the kitchen and listen to them talk. Since Elizabeth had died and the rumors had begun to spread that he’d killed her, the last of the servants had found places in the village to live. They needed his employment but were too afraid to spend the night, as if he only murdered people in their beds.
He wiped a hand down his face, then through his short hair. He couldn’t blame them. They had at first thought of him as their savior, the man who released them from service to the Langstons. The earl had always taken much of Castle Wintering’s profits without reinvesting it in the estate. But after Edmund had become the owner of the castle, Elizabeth had used her parents and the steward to get at the profits for herself. He’d been forced to go back to mercenary work. He’d spent months away from this place—his first real home. He loved it here, even the harsh winters, but he had to support it somehow. So Elizabeth had remained in London at court, and he’d traveled with the army one last time.
But Castle Wintering was home, even though it had suffered much ruin wrought by war. Its curtain walls had been shot down by cannon fire, and it had almost been given over to the rats under the earl’s rule, but Edmund could see a future here. It would simply take time—and money.
But there was a bride along with the dowry, and already the hall smelled different, and he could imagine feminine laughter drifting from the kitchen. One of the dogs sitting near the corridor sniffed and whined. Edmund knew how he felt.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the carved wood of the chair. He almost wished he could tell Gwyneth she wasn’t a real wife to him. How else could he explain that he wouldn’t be coming to her bed?
But then she’d go running home, and the dowry would be withdrawn, and he’d be back where he’d started, without money to pay the taxes or buy the grain for the winter sowing. And he wouldn’t have bested Earl Langston.
He had no choice but to let Gwyneth think he was merely thoughtless and cruel while he bided his time before sending her away. When the estate had earned enough money and he annulled the marriage, he would give Gwyneth a dowry to lure a new husband, to set her free of the Langstons, if she wished it. Then he’d find his own bride, a common girl without noble relatives, who would give birth to a son to inherit the castle and all his hard work.
When enough time had passed for Gwyneth and her maid to be finished eating, Edmund stood up and motioned the dogs back to their corner, though they whined their dismay. He went down the corridor toward the kitchen, keeping silent as he approached the doorway. He hesitated, for he could see his new wife perfectly, with firelight flickering across her pretty face, her eyes bright with laughter, and her smile—
He took a deep breath and fought the desire that he’d kept simmering low out of sheer willpower. Lust was an annoyance, but he’d live with it.
When he stepped into the kitchen, their faces lifted to his. The maid’s laughter died immediately, while Gwyneth quickly hid what could only be nervousness behind a shy smile. ’Twas a shame he couldn’t tell her there was no reason to be nervous about the wedding night.
He turned to the maid first, and she seemed to shrink from him, which he was used to. “What is your name again, girl?”
“Lucy Tyler, milord,” she said in a small voice.
“As you can see, Lucy, you have your choice of chambers here. The servants’ quarters are—”
But he caught her panicked look at Gwyneth.
“Sir Edmund,” Gwyneth interrupted, “might Lucy have a bedchamber closer to mine? She has never been away from home before.”
He heard the unspoken implication that Gwyneth had never left home either. He couldn’t imagine anyone calling Langston House a home, but that only proved why he must be wary of her.
“I have no problem with this. Come, I’ll show you to your chambers.”
He lit candles at the kitchen fire, handed the holders to Gwyneth and Lucy, and then led them back to the hall. Joyfully the dogs gathered round them. He watched Lucy stiffen with terror, but Gwyneth smiled and reached to pat the nearest furry neck. As a pack, they all trooped to a corridor across the hall. He could smell the damp, unused odor of the place. If he had really wanted to make Gwyneth despise him, he should have made sure the tower room wasn’t prepared, but he’d found he couldn’t do that to a woman. Mrs. Haskell wouldn’t have approved of such rudeness anyway.
At the last chamber before they reached the tower, Edmund opened the door and walked in, motioning for the dogs to wait outside. Gwyneth and Lucy followed him inside. Though the room hadn’t been used in years, it was decently furnished, and had a fresh pile of wood in the hearth. The maid glanced around with her big, dark eyes, then back at him with barely concealed horror.
He forced himself to be gruff instead of sympathetic. “The servants’ quarters were readied for you, Lucy, but you chose not to use them. I shall send the servants to clean it on the morrow as well as bring your things up.”
“Aye, milord,” she murmured.
When they knelt before the hearth, Edmund could see her hands shaking as she fumbled with the wood. Brushing her aside, he knelt down on one knee to start the fire for her. He felt a little foolish with his injured leg straight out to the side, but the women would get used to it. Soon the fire began to glow, chasing the room’s shadows away. He saw Lucy assess the large bed and the carpet before the hearth and thought she relaxed a bit.
But she still followed them back into the corridor. Lucy could spend the night with Gwyneth, and it wouldn’t matter because he had no intention of joining his wife.
When they came to the tower, the dogs suddenly stopped. They paced about one another, growling and whining. Elizabeth had never liked the dogs, and it was obvious they had long memories.
“ ’Tis all right,” Edmund said, “get up if you’re going.”
