Page 7 of The Masked Baron
The voices stopped, and after a moment the door opened to reveal her father’s weary face. His injured arm was now bandaged, and he held it tight to his side.
“Andalin, you are awake.”
Andalin lifted up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Good morning, Papa.”
He smiled and then looked hesitantly behind him. “May she join us?”
Andalin looked past her father and saw the Dark Rider with his mask firmly in place. She took a step backward.
“Yes, I think we are in agreement on the terms. Send your daughter in, and we will apprise her of the situation.”
“Andalin,” Papa began, “let me introduce you to Lord Cadogen.”
Andalin curtsied as respectfully as she could, despite her wariness. “Your lordship.”
Lord Cadogen motioned for her to enter and be seated. “It looks like your daughter has heard of me.”
Papa led Andalin to a seat next to his. Lord Cadogen sat back in a much larger chair behind a desk that separated them. He stretched out his long legs to the side of the desk, looking completely comfortable. Her father, on the other hand, lowered himself carefully into his seat. It wasn’t pain she saw on his face though; it was uncertainty.
Clearing his throat, Papa said, “Yes, my daughter knows of you. I informed her of my intention to sell my wares to you.”
Lord Cadogen smiled grimly. “It is not for that reason she knows my name.”
Papa looked at Andalin, but she remained silent. “She is a smart girl. She will form her own judgments, whatever they may be.”
Lord Cadogen observed Andalin, and she lifted her chin in response. In tending to her papa’s shop, she’d dealt with many strange and fearsome individuals. She would not cower to this man, whoever he was.
“You are a smart girl, then? Well, we shan’t have a problem finding a place for you.”
Andalin’s eyes darted to her father. What did Lord Cadogen mean? Papa nodded as if to assure Andalin everything would be all right.
“Do you mind elaborating, Lord Cadogen?” Andalin asked.
A slight smile crept up on Lord Cadogen’s face, as if he was surprised Andalin would address him. “It would be my pleasure. Your father has agreed to leave you in my care.”
The blood drained from her face. She must have misunderstood. “Forgive me, but you intend to employ me as a servant?”
Lord Cadogen folded his arms. “I intend to make you my ward. The lord chancellor must approve, but he owes me a favor. I do not foresee any problems since you come to me penniless. Your father has signed a will bequeathing you into my care. He, of course, is dead in the eyes of the world. You will keep your family name, as the Durante name is of good blood. I will provide for all of your needs. I’ll even find you a husband when the time comes. Of course, with an impressive dowry at my expense.
“This sort of thing takes time to become perfectly legal, so your father and I have set up a trial period. If, in time, I find you meet my expectations, then Braitwood Hall will be yours to inherit upon my death. I have never married and have no living relatives. As a result, I have no heir.”
Lord Cadogen did not need to remove his mask for Andalin to discern that he was relatively young. There was still a strong chance of him fathering children, and yet, he was ready and eager to have her as a ward. Andalin needed days or weeks, perhaps, to take this in. The last thing she wanted was to live there, even if the manor house resembled a castle. She wanted to be with her father. They were all each other had.
Andalin’s gaze darted to her father, who sat as stoically as a martyr. Her mind screamed for an explanation. “May I know the terms?”
Lord Cadogen turned to Papa and asked, “Is she always this forthright?” Then he faced her again and answered, “The terms are not to be disclosed to you at this time. Your father and I will be in correspondence with each other, and he will be made aware if the agreement is not to my liking.”
Andalin shot to her feet. “I would like to speak to my father privately, if you will.”
Lord Cadogen did not move from his seat but motioned them to the door. Papa led his daughter to the foyer, and then Andalin pointed to the empty dining room.
Once the door was shut she blurted, “Papa, you cannot be serious. I cannot stay here with him. You cannot leave without me!”
Papa sank into one of the dining chairs, his pale face a mixture of pain and exhaustion. “Andalin, I told you the time would soon come when you would need to prepare yourself to live without me. This will take you a step closer to finding a husband worthy of you. I owe this man my life—your life. I would not have picked this scenario for you, but the more I think on it, the surer I am this is right. It is better than I could ever have done for you myself.”
“No!” Andalin shook her head furiously. “You are the only family I have. You cannot desert me. You know I care not for a fine house or a fine life. We need each other.”
Papa smiled tenderly, his eyes settling on a potted tree in the corner of the room instead of on her. He suddenly looked old. He had never looked old to her before. “Dearest, this is not an easy choice. But you will be protected and cared for.”
