Page 16 of Historical Hotties
“Because she refuses to attend,” he said flatly. “She is not a social woman, and given the position Doncaster holds in England, that is an unfortunate stance, so I must find her a husband who can take the reins of power. A man who is cunning, political, powerful, and of the finest noble bloodlines. But given her propensity to keep herself away from the world, that opportunity has not presented itself yet.”
“But she is still young, is she not?” Cassius said. “There is time.”
The old man shook his head, sighing heavily. “You do not understand,” he muttered. “She is… well, there is no use in speaking of it. It has occurred to me that God must want my family legacy to die away.”
“I do not understand, your grace.”
Perhaps he didn’t, but the duke wasn’t willing to clarify. He changed the subject.
“How many brothers do you have, Cassius?” he asked.
“I have three, your grace,” he said. “Markus, who is married, and then Magnus and Titus, who are younger than I.”
“And your father? How many brothers did he have?”
“Five, your grace.”
“I see,” the duke said, looking disgruntled. “That is ten male offspring of de Wolfe, your father and you included. And that is not including the male offspring of your uncles.”
“There are many more, your grace.”
The duke sighed heavily. “And I only have her,” he said. “It is a sad thing to see a great legacy narrowed down to one woman.”
Cassius wasn’t entirely sure what more to say on the subject. He could see that the duke was disappointed with his one and only heir, and a female to boot. It was puzzling, but the truth was that it really wasn’t any of his affair. Trying to remain in a positive mood, he glanced around the hall.
“Where is your granddaughter, your grace?” he asked. “Will she not attend her guests?”
The old duke shook his head. “She does not attend feasts when there are guests present, usually,” he said. “She prefers to ensure the meal is perfect from her post in the kitchens.”
That sounded strange to Cassius. No hostess at a feast for guests? “She must be very dedicated,” he said. “I should at least like to thank her for her kind attention to detail before we depart. May I know her name, your grace?”
The duke took a long drink of wine before answering. “Dacia,” he said. “Dacia Mathilde Violette de Ferrar de Ryes, but she is known to all simply as Dacia of Doncaster.”
Dacia!
The realization hit him. It was the woman from the river, the one that Argos so thoughtfully shoved into the water. The woman that Cassius was positive the dog had injured because she kept her face covered up. He was certain the dog had hurtthe woman’s face somehow. Perhaps damaging her mouth or nose.
But then, Amata’s words came flooding back to him. She had said Dacia’s name and…
Witch’s marks!
It occurred to Cassius that the woman must have been covering up what some were calling her witch’s marks, something she hadn’t wanted a stranger to see. All Cassius knew was that she had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen and he couldn’t imagine her face was any less glorious.
Marks or no marks.
“Then I hope I am able to make her acquaintance before we depart on the morrow,” he said, not letting on that he’d already met the woman at the river. Given that the duke didn’t seem to have a high opinion of his granddaughter, perhaps he wouldn’t like to know she was wandering outside of the walls. “She has provided us with a goodly feast and should be commended.”
The duke simply nodded, downing more of his wine. “You said you came bearing a message from the king,” he said, changing the subject completely. “What does Edward have to say to me?”
With talk of Dacia of Doncaster finished, Cassius went with the new focus. It was why he had come, after all. “He sends you his compliments, of course,” he said. “He has instructed me to reiterate his fondness of you and hopes that he can see you personally very soon, but business has kept him in London.”
Doncaster looked at him. “What does he want?”
“Your grace?”
The old man waved him off. “I have known Edward long enough to know that he wants something from me,” he said. “He strokes me like a kitten, hoping I’ll purr loudly enough to cough up money and men for his wars in Scotland and Wales. Well? What is it? How much does he want this time?”
Cassius stared at him a moment before breaking down into a grin. “You have not even let me say all of it.”
