Page 33 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
“And do you have a man in mind as of yet?”
Every pair of male eyes inspected her body as if they planned to buy her. She sat up straighter. Let them look—she would do the purchasing. “No, my lord. Do not tell me that is why you gracious gentlemen came to visit me.”
Laughter traveled through the room.
“We came to celebrate your twentieth birthday,” Lord George said. “The queen regretted that you would not be with her, and she wanted to make sure we gave you a party befitting her close friend. She is even sending her own minstrels.”
A birthday party in her honor, where she and her household would be doing much of the work. She didn’t know who was more ignorant at times—the queen or men as a whole.
Margery called her ladies together to retire briefly before supper. She could feel Gareth watching her leave, as if he actually touched her, but she refused to look at him. He would only want to accompany her, and she didn’t want a man just now.
Once in her solar, she stood at the large glass window and looked out over the flatlands of the Severn Valley. Anne and Cicely stood beside her.
“Margery?” Anne finally said.
“Hmm?”
“What is wrong? Surely it must be wonderful to have so many men seeking your hand.”
“It would seem so,” she said, turning to smile at her friend. “But I must keep in mind that these men are looking for a suitable match to bring prestige and wealth to their families—which does not necessarily have much to do with me. Sometimes I feel like I am just an additional benefit—me and any child I would bear.”
“Oh, no,” Cicely said, touching Margery’s arm. “You must not think that way.”
“I’m trying not to.” Margery smiled briskly. “That is why I brought you two with me. I need to plan my strategy.”
“Strategy?” Anne echoed. “It sounds like you’re marching off to war.”
“I am, and ’tis time for a battle plan. I need to know exactly what kind of man I am looking for.”
“Oh, that should be easy,” Anne said, clapping her hands together. “Handsome and kind, well-spoken, strong?—”
Margery interrupted. “I only agree with two of those. Of course I want a man who will be kind, and strong enough to take care of our family. But appearance and manner of speaking are not so important.”
Cicely looked crestfallen.
“Ladies, we will each be married to one man for all of our lives. Handsomeness won’t last forever. I’ve been thinking of what I would like in a man. First, he shall be a nobleman.”
“Oh, of course,” Anne agreed.
Cicely nodded.
“But only because I wish him to stay at court for much of the year.”
Anne seemed puzzled for a moment before she smiled. “Ah, the prestige.”
“No. I am simply used to running my own household and I do not want any interference. Besides, a husband needs to keep busy. I will tolerate no gambling or excessive drinking.”
Cicely looked bewildered as she took a seat in a cushioned chair.
Margery pushed on. “He must be intelligent, but not too strong-willed. A husband should be content with a good life and a happy family, not roaming the countryside looking to battle.”
“But Margery,” Anne said tentatively, “what about love?”
She stared at their innocent faces, then turned her back to look out the window. She hated to disillusion them. “I made that mistake once before,” she said softly. “From now on, it will not be my first consideration.”
She wouldneverfall in love again. With Peter Fitzwilliam, she had lost all control of herself and lived only to be with him. He’d had all the power in their relationship, and it had almost destroyed her.
She would have remained a lonely spinster—until she had finally come to her senses and realized that most men were no better than Peter. So now she would negotiate her own marriage. She would be a good wife, and never give her husband cause to regret his choice. But it would really beherchoice.
