Page 105 of The Unwilling Bride
“Because there was more in that box than a will,” Constance replied. “Lord William kept some jewels and gold coins in it, too, as I remember.”
Ranulf appeared in the door, an open cedar box in hishand. “There’s no jewelry or coins in here now,” he said. He reached inside and pulled out a scroll. “But there is this.”
“Give it to me,” the earl commanded. He took out the dagger he wore in his belt and slipped it under the wax seal Constance recognized as Lord William’s. While Ruan continued to whimper, Richard unrolled the parchment and started to read.
Constance held her breath, praying the will was as she’d remembered, fearing it wasn’t, or that what the earl held was some other document.
After a long moment when the whole crowd seemed to be holding its breath, Richard raised his eyes. “It is just as you say, my lady. Even if he’s not the earl’s legitimate son, your husband is the rightful heir to Tregellas.”
The villagers turned shocked eyes onto Merrick.
“I’m not Merrick,” he announced, his voice loud in the silence. “I’m Bredon, the son of Lord William and Peder’s daughter, Tamsyn. I was taken from the riverbank and put in Merrick’s place in the cortege. He was killed, but I—”
Suddenly a shout such as Constance had never heard, of joy and anguish, of happiness and dismay, rose from the back of the crowd. Then Peder shoved his way forward.
“My boy! My blessed, blessed boy!” the old man cried. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he reached out and took Merrick’s face in his hands. “When you talked to me at the smithy, I thought…God help me, I thoughtI was going mad. But the look in your eyes…I’d seen that look a hundred times in Tamsyn’s…. Bredon, my boy—is it really you?”
Merrick put his hands on his grandfather’s shoulders. Now she could see the resemblance between them. Their brown, resolute eyes. Their height. The shape of their jaw. “Yes, Grandpa, it’s really me.”
“And you’re not drowned?”
Merrick shook his head. “No, Grandpa, I didn’t drown,” he softly, gently answered.
The earl cleared his throat. “This is all very touching, but I’m tired and thirsty and could use some wine. Shall we retire to your hall, my lord? Your dear wife looks tired, too, and so does this elderly fellow who, I take it, is your grandfather?”
“I’m perfectly fine!” Peder declared, clinging to his grandson as if he feared he’d disappear again.
“Constance should rest,” her husband said to him. “So come, Grandpa. Come home with me.”
“IT’S LIKE SOMETHING OUT OF A minstrel’s tale,” Beatrice said as she watched Constance prepare for bed that night. “He’s like a sort of prodigal son, only he wasn’t really. It wasn’t his fault he went away. And then he didn’t dare come back.”
She sounded almost like the Beatrice of old, but there was a look in her eyes that told Constance her girlishinnocence was gone. She was a woman now, and one who would carry the burden of her father’s shame for the rest of her life.
Until, perhaps, she found someone to take that burden from her, or gladly share it.
“I’m glad the earl’s put you in our care,” Constance replied. “I can always use your help.”
“I’m very grateful. Anything I can do to help you, you have but to name it.”
Constance stifled a little smile, thinking she would welcome another pair of hands or assistance with the servants in a few months, when she would be busy with a new and wonderful concern. But she’d not yet told her husband, so she didn’t want to tell Beatrice, either. “Thank you. I hope you’ll have a fine husband and a household of your own someday.”
Beatrice’s cheeks reddened and she crossed to the window, looking out at the night sky. “I’ll never marry. I’m the dowerless daughter of traitor.”
Constance went and put her arm around her cousin’s slender shoulders. “You’re the cousin-by-marriage of the lord of Tregellas. And we’ll gladly give you a dowry.”
Beatrice shook her head. “I can’t ask that of you.”
“You’re not. I’m telling you how it will be,” Constance replied with a smile. “If there’s a man you wish to marry and he shares that desire, we’ll do everything we can to make the marriage.”
“You really are too good to me,” Beatrice whispered as she hugged her cousin.
A deep, slightly husky male voice interrupted. “Have we not had sufficient tears today?”
Constance looked over her shoulder at her husband standing on the threshold of their bedchamber. Whatever his name was, the very sight of him made her heartbeat quicken and her body warm with desire.
“It was a rather unusual homecoming,” Constance remarked with a seductive little smile that, judging by the look that came to her husband’s face, had exactly the effect she was aiming for.
Beatrice hurried to the door. “I’ll leave you now,” she murmured, then she ran from the room, weeping.
