Page 72 of The Unwilling Bride
“He said that’d be how it’d look to everybody,” Merrick grumbled.
“Everybody who doesn’t know you well,” Ranulf agreed. Yet that alone wouldn’t be enough to make Merrick over-imbibe after all these years. “Did he suggest it might look that way to Constance, too?”
“He didn’t have to. She’d already said so.”
“So you quarreled with your wife over this woman and then argued with Henry, and now he’s left Tregellas.”
Merrick glumly nodded. He thought of the accusations Henry had leveled at him with regard to Ranulf, then told himself Ranulf wouldn’t have to suffer being garrison commander much longer. Soon he’d find somebody trustworthy enough to fill that place. Eventually.
“It’s not surprising to me that people aren’t sure what to make of that decision. You offered no explanation, and you’re a damned cipher most of the time.”
“I can’t tell you why,” Merrick muttered.
“Have I asked? I’m sure you had good cause, and one that didn’t begin and end with lust. But I’ve known you since we were both ten years old—they haven’t.”
“They shouldn’t accuse me of lusting after other women.”
“Plenty of men do, and then there’s your late, unlamented father.”
“You don’t have to remind me.”
“Apparently I do. You may be asking too much of your wife and these people if you expect them to accept you on faith so quickly.”
“That’s what Henry said.”
“He’s right.”
“I didn’t want Henry’s advice and I don’t need yours, either,” Merrick growled.
“Because you’re doing such a fine job on your own.”
The last thing Merrick needed was Ranulf’s sanctimonious sarcasm. “You can go, too.”
“If I do, who’ll lead your garrison?”
“Somebody,” Merrick mumbled, frowning.
“You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. As it happens, I’m enjoying myself—and as you yourself said, you need a man you can trust in charge of your soldiers. I also swore an oath of loyalty to you, and I intend to keep it.”
“So did Henry,” Merrick reminded him.
“I’m not Henry’s keeper.”
“You’re not mine, either.”
“No, I’m not. But I am your friend, and until you tell me to my face that I’m not needed here any longer, I’ll stay.”
Merrick leaned forward and buried his head in his folded arms on the table as his eyes filled with weak, foolish tears of gratitude.
“Am I still your friend?”
Merrick nodded in response, afraid his voice would betray him.
“Good. Now stop drinking and when you’re sober, go speak to your wife.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IN SPITE OF HIS INTENTION TO follow Ranulf’s advice, Merrick didn’t seek out Constance until the hour grew late and he could find no more excuses not to retire. Instead, maintaining his usual stoic demeanor, he checked the new swords the armorer had made. He gave the guards the watchword for the night, paying no heed to their attempts to avoid his gaze. He got some food from the kitchen and ignored Gaston’s wary expression and that of the servants cowering in the corners.
