Page 82 of Suddenly a Bride
When Gwyneth awoke the next morning, the sun was already well above the horizon and Edmund’s side of the bed was cold. She stretched and then hugged herself, remembering the pleasurable hours she’d spent in her husband’s arms. But there was much work to do—and how would she explain to her family why she’d overslept?
She madly dashed out of bed and was dressed in her smock and stockings before she noticed that something was on the floor. Frowning, she walked to the door, where a sheaf of papers now lay, as if someone had slipped them beneath the door while she slept. It must have been done after Edmund had left, for surely he would have picked them up otherwise. She set them on the table and continued to dress.
When she heard footsteps in the corridor, she ducked her head out to find Mrs. Haskell passing by.
“A good morning, my lady,” the housekeeper said with a smile.
“The same to you, Mrs. Haskell. Could you tell me—did you see someone slide papers beneath my door?”
“Papers, my lady? What are they?”
She pointed to the table. “I have not read them yet, so I know not what they are.”
“I saw nothing,” the housekeeper said with a frown. “I can ask the maidservants.”
“Nay, do not bother. I’m sure ’tis nothing important.”
But suddenly she knew itwasimportant, or someone would not have been so devious as to hide his or her identity.
“I am sorry to keep you from your duties, Mrs. Haskell. I shall come to the kitchen as soon as I’m ready.”
She ducked back into her room to finish dressing while staring at the papers, feeling a looming sense of dread that she couldn’t explain.
She finally sat down at the table and began to read. Someone had written a copy of the marriage contract that Edmund had signed. Instead of her father, Earl Langston had acted as her guardian, offering an impressive dowry.
But why would someone want her to read it now?
Glancing through it again, she stumbled on a clause that she’d only skimmed the first time. It stated that should Edmund die without a son, the castle and its lands would revert to the Langston family instead of going to an heir designated by him.
Was someone trying to warn her that if Edmund died, she’d be penniless again? But nothing was mentioned about his own money and any newly purchased land. Surely he would provide for her.
Then why was she supposed to read the contract, and who had made sure she did?
Even more confusing, why would the Langstons insist that Edmund have a son and put it in writing?
Gwyneth spent the day puzzling over her little mystery. Though she was careful to watch out for Prudence Atwater, the woman never appeared, and Gwyneth’s mind lingered over the contract as she waited for the evening, when she could discuss it in private with her husband.
She spent the day in the kitchen, preserving fruit from the orchard, hard work that left her fingers and back sore. That night her mother and sisters gathered before the fire in the great hall to sew together and exchange stories of the day. But she felt distant and preoccupied as she stood watching them from the kitchen corridor.
Suddenly an image came to mind of a firelit hearth in London and a grander home she’d visited often as a child. She remembered being a little girl, listening to her mother’s many sisters gossip and laugh as they, too, spent an evening together.
Just like her own mother, her grandmother had never borne boys. And now that Gwyneth thought on it, none of her aunts had sons either.
Was this a pattern she had never seen but the Langstons had? Had they written the marriage contract with this in mind, knowing that her side of the family never had sons? Was this the way the earl meant to ruin her husband?
Married to her and denied a son, Edmund would lose everything he’d worked so hard for.
Chapter 19
Pleading a headache—which wasn’t a lie—Gwyneth escaped to the quiet of her bedchamber to pace with ever-growing frustration and despair.
Had Edmund read the contract? Even if he had, surely he wouldn’t understand what that one terrible clause could mean. She hadn’t understood either until this moment. She had never thought about children in so mercenary a way. To her, they were a blessing. But to the Langstons, a girl child was nothing but revenge. She felt overwhelmed by hatred for the first time in her life.
The anxiety and despair she’d felt when Edmund wouldn’t treat her like a wife came back in double strength. He’d maybe begun to love her a little, and now he might lose his land because of her family. He would surely set her aside if he found out she couldn’t bear him a son.
This land, this castle was everything to him. He wasn’t a soldier any more. How would he feel if every improvement he’d made at Castle Wintering went into Langston coffers?
His legacy and future were at stake—but so were hers. She’d finally begun to help her family and see them settled. Even if her sisters never had dowries, they would not starve. Yet if she told Edmund what she suspected, her family would lose everything. He’d try to annul the marriage and give back the dowry, for he wouldn’t want to risk forfeiting his land.
