Page 75 of The Unwilling Bride
“I’d be delighted to have such a man as yourself swear fealty to me, and give you a castle to hold in my name.”
Henry toyed with the mug and didn’t answer.
Lord Carrell leaned in so close, Henry could tell he’d dined on fish that day. “I think, Sir Henry, that you’re also concerned for the welfare of my beautiful niece. This way, you would be nearby, should she require assistance.”
Henry slid his mug from one hand to the other and back again.
“And if, perchance, Lord Merrick should perish sooner rather than later, she would be free to wed again, to a man loyal to her uncle.”
“Or Merrick might live to be eighty,” Henry observed. “Tell me, Lord Carrell, do I look like a man whose loyalty can be purchased with a castle?”
Lord Carrell moved away, farther along the bench. “I meant no disrespect, and if I was wrong about your feelings for my lovely niece, I beg your pardon.” He rose. “I bid you good day.”
Henry grabbed the man’s tunic and pulled him back down. “How large a castle and how many men would I have in my command?”
“ALAN DE VERN TELLS ME YOU wish to see me, my lord,” Constance said coolly as she entered the solar a few days later.
She always spoke to her husband coolly now, when she spoke to him at all. The only warmth between them came at night, when they shared a bed. Yet even though he made love with her, there was no real intimacy anymore. She was sadly sure their lovemaking served no purpose now but to get her with child so she could bear him a son.
So far, that had not been successful, and when her flux had commenced a week ago, she’d lain awake a long time worrying about what would happen if she didn’t conceive. In spite of his vows, would he send her away and take a mistress? Even an illegitimate son was better than none. Would he be content to let his uncle and his uncle’s children be his heirs? Would he grow to hate her? Would he become bitter and resentful, cruel and vicious, as his father had before him?
His father. How she wished he’d died when Merrick was a boy. How different things might be.
“I’ve had a message from the king,” Merrick said, pointing to a parchment in front of him. “He congratulates me on my marriage and trusts I’ll soon have the smuggling here under control.”
Constance stiffened ever so slightly, as she always did when he spoke of smuggling. Thankfully, no smugglers had been captured since he’d arrived, although whether it was because they’d stopped, or were waitingfor him to lessen the patrols, she didn’t know. She hadn’t gone into the village recently to find out, because she hadn’t wanted to see Annice, or Eric, or even Peder.
“What can you tell me about the smuggling activity around Tregellas?”
“That it’s been going on for centuries and will be difficult to stop,” she replied.
He regarded her steadily, without passion. “Please don’t play the ignorant woman with me, Constance. You know this land, these people too well, and they trust you. I’m sure you know who’s engaged in smuggling and what beaches they use, and when. Who are they, Constance?”
She returned his gaze with one equally dispassionate. “As you gave your word to Annice, I gave my word to my friends—good people who feel cheated and oppressed by a king who uses their money to live in splendor, or to wage his wars in France. They would willingly pay what is honestly asked, but as it is now…”
“They hold themselves above the law. In many ways they already are, yet that’s not enough to satisfy them.”
“Is it so difficult to understand that when they see how men who also mine tin, yet who happen to live in Devonshire, are taxed at a much lesser rate, they feel they’re being exploited?”
“I swore an oath to my king that I will uphold his laws.”
“You swore. I didn’t. And my friends’ trust means as much to me as your friends’ does to you, so don’t ask me to betray them. If Henry or Ranulf broke the law—”
“I would consider our oath broken and I would ensure that justice was done.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “If you knew who set fire to the mill, would you tell me that?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “There is no justification for such an act.”
“Even if it was a friend?”
“Yes.”
His face inscrutable, he gestured at another scroll. “I’ve also received word that we can expect a visitor shortly—Lord Osgoode, who’s returned to England with the earl of Cornwall.”
Constance’s brows rose. This was the first she’d heard that Richard was back in England. It would also be the first time they’d entertained so important a guest since she’d been married.
“I trust you’ll do all that’s necessary to make him comfortable and his stay in Tregellas a pleasant one.”
“As you know your duty, my lord,” she replied, “so I know mine.”
