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“Nay!” Justin cut him off. “No more. You will not torment her further. Leave now. I do not merely ask it of you. Go.”
An angry silence filled the room.
“Very well,” Sir Myles said at last. “I will take my men and leave. But heed me, Sir Justin Baldwin. I’ll have Isabelle back. I swear it by all that is holy. And you’ll come to regret this night and your vile deeds. You will, sir. You will.”
When he had left, Justin sat on the bed, cradling a silent Isabelle in his arms.
“A dangerous man,” Father Hugo commented. “Beware him, Justin, and keep control of your temper. As God’s holy word tells us, ‘Be slow to wrath, for the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God.”’
“But it does get rid of Sir Myles,” Justin replied wearily.
“What do we do now?” Christian asked. “Would it not be wise to make for Siere?”
“Aye.” Justin turned his gaze upon Isabelle, who still had her eyes closed against his shoulder, although he knew she did not sleep. “Would that we could rest longer,” he murmured. “But we cannot.” To Christian he said, “We will clothe ourselves and make the horses ready, and then we will ride full haste for Siere, where I will have much to say to my brother the earl.”
Chapter Six (#ulink_7d0be7c0-8cb2-595b-a355-95cb9c1b13e4)
Siere was, for Isabelle, a daunting place. Everything about it was grand, as well as on a grand scale. The castle was enormous, with so many stairs and hallways and chambers that Isabelle commonly got lost. The land surrounding the castle was vast, stretching so far that, even when Justin took her to the castle’s highest tower and pointed out the direction of the borders, she’d not been able to see the end of it. The town of Siere was really a bustling city and, from the personal wealth of the earl and his lady, Isabelle realized that local commerce must be quite healthy.
Isabelle knew the signs of prosperity when she saw them, just as she knew and understood bankers, moneylenders, traders and businessmen. It took a calm, sure hand to manipulate all of those involved to bring about a city’s financial success, and Isabelle was filled with admiration for the one who’d guided Siere along just such a path. Sir Hugh, the earl of Siere, had smiled at Isabelle’s shy compliments on the matter and revealed that it was his wife, Lady Rosaleen, who managed Siere and made every major decision. “I’m only here to make speeches,” he told her, “and to keep the children occupied when their mother wants some rest. Otherwise, I’m nothing more than the official bedfellow.” This he accompanied with a smile so meaningful that even the memory made Isabelle’s cheeks burn. Of course, it wasn’t all true. Lady Rosaleen might be the one who actually had the managing of Siere, and did it very capably, but it was Sir Hugh who ruled. He was an estimable lord, seeming to know everything without being told, heading off trouble before it occurred, always saying the right word at the right moment. Isabelle had only been at Siere for a week, but in that time she’d seen Sir Hugh deftly handle a number of his citizen’s complaints with the ease and wisdom of a Solomon, and she had yet to see one person leave the castle whose anger hadn’t been transposed into calm.
The earl had a gift for putting people at ease, which Isabelle had experienced firsthand when she arrived at Siere and Justin introduced her to Sir Hugh and his wife. Exhausted from the long ride, and weary from the rapid experiences of being kidnapped and married in only a matter of hours, Isabelle had only stared when the earl of Siere sauntered toward her with a welcoming smile on his lips. It had taken several long moments before she was able to mumble some kind of reply, and then, as he stood holding her cold fingers in his engulfing hand, he’d chuckled with warm amusement and said, to Justin, “I gather that you’ve not yet explained about Hugo and me being twins. The poor girl probably thinks that her wits have wandered away.” Which was exactly what Isabelle had thought, at least until Justin explained why it was that the priest who had married them and the earl of Siere looked to be the same man.
Sir Hugh had seemingly received the news of Justin’s bringing a different bride to Siere from the one that had been chosen for him with ease, giving no more evidence of surprise than the slight lifting of one eyebrow, and yet Isabelle was wary. He had been all that was kind this past week, but she had seen him contemplating her often, with a silent, seeking regard, and it was clear that very little escaped those piercing green eyes. A silent tension existed between himself and Justin, as well, and if the earl wondered why his brother and his brother’s new wife didn’t share a bedchamber, he never voiced the question aloud. At least, not in Isabelle’s hearing.
Lady Rosaleen, fortunately, was a much less bewildering presence. Beautiful, forthright and kind, she had immediately accepted Isabelle as her sister-by-marriage, and had done everything possible to make her comfortable.
“Don’t let Hugh rattle you, my dear,” she’d said when she took Isabelle to her chamber. “Baldwins tend to be rather intense, and my husband has the added difficulty of being a dreadful meddler. If there’s any trouble to be gotten into, Hugh will be the first to get into it. He’s not quite as serious-minded as Sir Alexander and Justin are, however, so perhaps that makes up for some of it. Not,” she’d added quickly, glancing at Isabelle with a smile, “that there’s anything wrong with being serious-minded. Justin is a marvelous man in every way, including his sober nature. But I don’t need to tell you that, do I, my dear? Do you love him very much?”
She did, and, sitting before her chamber fire, she’d admitted it, and everything else, to a sympathetic Lady Rosaleen.
“I don’t know how it came to be,” she said miserably, setting her weary head into her hands. “All the time he was courting Evelyn I loved him, and even now, when I know he only wed me to save his lands and to…to further his own gains, I love him. Evelyn spoke truly when she said that he would be horrified to know of my regard. I am a fool.”
“Oh, nay, never,” Lady Rosaleen assured her gently, setting a comforting hand on Isabelle’s shoulder. “You are weary and distressed, and upset at being taken forcibly from your home and married so shortly after, just as any woman should be, but you are not a fool. I cannot say why Justin has done what he has, but you may believe that he would not have taken you unless he held you in some regard. It may be, my dear, that he cares for you more than you think.”
But Isabelle found that hard to believe, despite Justin’s continually courteous and gentle manner toward her. She had only to look in her mirror to see that her face, so plain and common, couldn’t compare to her cousin’s, or Lady Rosaleen’s, or those of most other women. It certainly wasn’t the sort of face to inspire love. And as to the rest of her…well, Isabelle supposed that the most generous thing that could be said about her was that she was kindhearted. But that, matched with her temper, was probably far from sufficient to cause any man to want her. And there was always her unfortunate love of mathematics to consider. Although her skill with numbers was considered well enough in the way of increasing fortunes, it was seldom a topic that men cared to discuss, especially with a woman. Only her uncle’s bankers and financial associates had found discussions with Isabelle enthralling, and they were hardly the sort of men Isabelle wanted to enthrall. Her husband, now…her husband, she wanted to enthrall, to entice, somehow…to make him desire her the way he had probably desired Evelyn. But how? she wondered, setting aside the needlework on which she’d spent the past hour laboring.
The castle was quiet during the afternoons, when the midday meal had been finished and cleared away. In the great hall, where the castle ladies gathered to gossip and ply their needles while the sun yet shone through the tall, clear windows, servants moved with quiet ease, performing their tasks with the same efficiency that was to be found everywhere in Castle Siere. Indeed, not just the castle, but Siere as a whole, seemed to work with all the elegant beauty of a carillon bell clock.
She was waiting for Justin, just as he had asked her to, just as she did every afternoon. Each day at this time he took her for a walk in the gardens, or sometimes along the river, because, he had said, “We must come to know each other better.”
These had been wonderful times for Isabelle, partly because it had been so many years since she had not had to spend her every waking hour inside her uncle’s house, laboring over his accounts, and partly because her husband was such an amiable companion. He had not insisted upon any of his husbandly rights during the week that they’d been at Siere, but he was affectionate nonetheless. Surprisingly enough, he liked to walk with her in the same manner that Isabelle’s parents had done, which was to link his hand and fingers with hers, rather than to simply offer her his arm to hold. The first time he took her hand in such a manner, Isabelle had been so nervous that she felt her palm growing distressingly damp, and her fingers had been so stiff that they ached, but he had not seemed to notice, although he had loosened his grip slightly, and after a few minutes she’d begun to accept the intimate clasp and relaxed. Sometimes he would embrace her lightly, briefly, and kiss her cheek, doing it without warning and so suddenly that it was over before Isabelle had any chance to respond. Afterward, he would gaze at her in an oddly warm manner before taking her hand in his again and resuming their walk.
Leaning her head back in her chair, Isabelle contemplated the great hall’s ceiling. It might be another hour or more before Justin returned from the village, where he had gone with Sir Christian and the earl, and she was weary of needlework. The truth of the matter was, she missed her account books. Oh, she knew they were really her uncle’s, but in four years they had come to seem like hers. She knew each one intimately, from the first entry to the last, from every mistaken inkblot she’d made to every crease in the leather bindings. She had filled each page with meticulous care, had tallied every column twice, had… God’s mercy! Isabelle sat upright, with a hand to her forehead. She must be mad! If Evelyn could only hear her thoughts now, she would laugh long and loud. And with good cause, Isabelle thought with a groan. If anyone could be charged as dull, it was she, Isabelle, and not Justin. She would probably bore her handsome husband into weariness before a year’s time was out, God help her.
“Have you an ache, my lady?”
Isabelle dropped her hand to gaze at Lady Rosaleen, who stood before her with her young son, Lord Farron, tucked firmly in one arm.
“Oh, nay,” Isabelle replied foolishly. “I was only… thinking.”
“Ah,” said Lady Rosaleen, seating herself in the chair beside Isabelle’s. “I must have looked very similar whenever I used to think of Hugh, before we were wed. We had an exhausting courtship. But that seems to be the way the Baldwin men carry out such things. Sir Alexander held his wife prisoner for many weeks before marrying her to gain her dowered lands, Hugh forced me to labor as a servant at his estate for three months before we were wed, and Justin kidnapped you.” Lady Rosaleen laughed. “Poor Willem is the only brother among them who managed to be a gentleman, and he was finally ensnared in marriage to a lady who decided she wanted him for a husband. And a good thing it was, else he’d never have married at all.”
Isabelle laughed, too. “Justin has told me some of these stories before. I think I have been the lucky one, after all that you and Lady Lillis went through.”
“Aye, s’truth,” Lady Rosaleen agreed. “Justin has ever been the most considerate of the men, certainly when it comes to women.”
“Father Hugo seemed very kind,” Isabelle noted.
At this, Rosaleen shook her head. “Hugo, like his twin brother, loves women. All women, regardless of age or condition. I’ve seen those two charm young girls and elderly grandmothers with but a smile, the rogues. I’ll never understand how Hugo has managed to stay in the Church all these years. He’s worse than Hugh, at times.”
Remembering the warm, appreciative gaze that Father Hugo had eyed her with at the monastery, Isabelle had to agree.
“Are you still worrying, my dear, over why Justin wed you?” Lady Rosaleen asked.
Isabelle’s smile died, and she lowered her eyes. “Aye,” she whispered. “I know I should not care so much, for I can give him what he wants of me. I have just been thinking of how I miss working with my uncle’s accounts. ‘Twill be good to have some to work on again soon.”
“You have not known Justin long, as I have,” Lady Rosaleen said gently, “but if you had, you would be reassured, and would know that it is not wealth he wants you for. I have never seen him look at another woman the way he looks at you, with such tenderness and affection. And I have never seen him so content, either, despite his current anger with my husband.”
Isabelle lifted her head. “He has seemed angered with Sir Hugh. Is it because of me that they quarrel?”
“Not you, nay, but with matters that may have concerned you at one time. I do not think any man would like to be commanded to wed, do you?”
With a thoughtful frown, Isabelle replied, “He did not seem displeased to wed Evelyn until she and my uncle were so foolish as to give him insult. But for that, he would have married her.”
“Would he?” Lady Rosaleen asked. “I do not know if that is true. But let us speak of the matter no more, for I’ve no desire to test how red you can go.” She laughed lightly when Isabelle reddened even further. “My dear, if you have missed working with numbers, would you like to entertain yourself with some of my accounts? I should be exceedingly glad to let you work with any or all of them, I vow, for although I enjoy working them, as well, I’ve not much time to do so since this little one was born.” She smiled lovingly at her sleeping son. “Robert, the steward, once suggested that I give Farron over to the care of a nurse, and Hugh nearly took a whip to him, but he spoke the truth. With Kathryn and Harry just babies yet, and Galen so active—” at this, she uttered a long sigh “—I’ve not much time left for Siere, as I used to. ’Tis a blessing Hugh is so willing to lend me aid.”
“Robert does not care to take over the task?”
“Oh, aye, he does, just as he wishes to take over every task, God bless his efficient soul, but he has enough to do in keeping Hugh out of trouble, I fear. ‘Twould be unjust to make him do the accounting, as well. I suppose I should let him hire a treasurer, but I’ve always had the keeping of my own accounts and have never desired assistance until now. Any help that you might be ready to give, dear Isabelle…”
“Oh, aye, my lady,” Isabelle said at once. “I should be most glad to repay your kindness to me in any way that I can.”
The countess of Siere smiled warmly. “Then go to the working chamber that I share with my husband, and see what may be done with the accounts. Stay for as long as you are happy, and when the work grows tiresome, put it away. You have my permission to work there as often as it pleases you, save when my husband is there. I know he would welcome your company, i’ faith, but his language is so unchristian at times that I’d never expose you, or any gentlelady, to it.”
It was, for Isabelle, a boon too good to believe. She nearly dropped her needlework as she quickly stood.
“Thank you, my lady,” she said gratefully. “Is there anything urgent that needs tending, in particular?”
“The rents are far behind,” Lady Rosaleen said thoughtfully, “as are the livestock accounts. Don’t touch the household books, however, for Robert does keep those, and most jealously.”
“Will you please tell Justin where I am if he should come looking for me?”
Lady Rosaleen nodded and smiled. “I’ll tell him. Do not worry on it.”
“Robert,” said Sir Hugh as he walked into his working chamber, carrying his sleeping daughter in his arms. “Well met. Lady Kate had the audacity to fall asleep while being admired in the village. Can you imagine such a thing?”
Setting down the pen with which he’d been writing, the steward rose from his table. “Good day, my lord,” he said, adding, when Justin, holding one of his nephews by the hand, followed his brother into the room, “And also to you, my lord, Sir Justin. May I hope you have at last come to discuss important matters?”
“No, you may not,” the earl said affably. “We’ve come to have a friendly, brotherly chat—”
“Oh, have we?” Justin asked with bemusement.
“We have,” his brother assured him. “And we won’t require a legate, as I’m certain we’ll not resort to violence. If we do, we won’t need witnesses, either. Be pleased to take Katy and Harry to their nurses, Robert.”
Gazing at the small bundle in his master’s arms, Robert gave a disdainful sniff. “Really, my lord. You cannot mean it. And we must discuss these matters.” He picked up several pieces of parchment from the table. “The duke demands a reply, as does Sir Alexander, and Sir Myles is threatening to be very disagreeable if he doesn’t have some satisfaction soon.”
“Sir Myles,” said Justin, “may take himself to Hades. I would be happy to aid him in the task.”
“Justin…” Hugh said in a warning tone. Then, with a sigh, went on, “Very well. We’ll discuss matters. Now please take Katy and Harry to their nurses.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but set his sleeping child in his steward’s unready hands.
“But, my lord!” Robert sputtered indignantly.
“She’s only a babe,” the earl chided, carefully arranging his daughter’s head against Robert’s shoulder. “What grave harm could she visit upon you?” With tender affection, he bent to kiss the child’s forehead, then straightened and looked his steward directly in the eye. “Never say you’re ashamed to be seen carrying my children, Robert?”
The insult hit its intended course, and Robert’s nose lifted sharply. “I will never understand your strange sense of humor, my lord,” he said, “and I was not aware that my duties included being a children’s maid.” He gave an imperious humph and took young Harry’s hand. “Come along, Lord Harold.” As he walked out the door, he called back, “If you don’t have replies ready for me to send this evening, I’ll stand outside your bedchamber door all night.”
Justin shook his head as Hugh closed the door.
“Alexander would never put up with such familiarity in a servant, you know.”
Hugh chuckled and went to pour wine from a nearby decanter. “Alexander can afford to be stiff-necked. If it weren’t for Robert, I’d have been committed to an asylum long ago. Will you have wine?”
Justin gave his brother a considering look. “Perhaps. How long is our ‘friendly, brotherly chat’ to last?”
The earl of Siere filled a goblet for his brother and handed it to him.
“That all depends on you, I think. You might as well say what you’ve been wanting to these past many days. I’ve considered beating it out of you, but somehow the idea of trying to explain that to Rosaleen doesn’t appeal.”
Justin, smiling grimly, only shook his head again.
“God save me,” Sir Hugh said. “I suppose I’ll have the headache when this is done. Very well, then I’ll say it.” Placing his goblet on a low table, he lazily settled his long body into a comfortable chair. “You’re angry with me for meddling in your life.”
“Angry?” Justin repeated.
“Oh, all right.” The earl waved a hand about. “You’re furious. I don’t think we have to bicker about it. Despite your present feelings toward me, I am not a fool.”
Justin’s expression darkened. “I’m not in the mood for your careless manners, Hugh. If you’re going to be amusing, I’ll leave.”
“Oh, Justin,” Hugh said with a groan. “You make everything so difficult, and ever have. You were somber even as a boy, always skulking about the hallways at Gyer like a silent shadow. You haven’t changed overmuch since those days.”
“I had good reason to be as I was,” Justin told him, sitting in the chair opposite his brother’s. “I had Candis to protect from Father, and when he was gone, from Alexander’s lack of care and from your and Hugo’s dangerous ways. Before Lillis came, Castle Gyer was not a pleasant place for small children, certainly not for our young sister. Or have you forgotten?”
Hugh shifted uncomfortably beneath his brother’s steady gaze. “Nay, of course I’ve not. I realize full well what life was like for you and Candis then, and have long since accepted my own part in what you both suffered. Perhaps, in some misguided way, I’ve tried too much to take care of you now to make some sort of… recompense.”
“Recompense?” Justin repeated with disbelief. “You force me to wed as a way of making recompense?”
“As a way of keeping you from harm, aye,” Hugh admitted. “Alex wanted me to find you a bride in the hopes that a wife might settle you down and keep you out of trouble, and I thought—having heard of what transpired at Briarstone with the duke’s advisor—well, I thought, perhaps, that he might be right.”
“I’ve told you what happened at Briarstone,” Justin said tightly. “Chris told you what happened.”
“Yes, well. Ahem.” The earl cleared his throat. “How was I to know that the fellow had been trying to rape one of the women there? He said you’d taken a sword to him because he wouldn’t pay for his pleasures, not that you’d taken a sword to him because he deserved to be gelded. And before you tell me that I should have taken the trouble to ask you about the matter first, I’ll remind you that it wouldn’t have done any good. Alexander wanted you wed, and would have used any reason to accomplish the goal. You know what he is.”
“You’re an earl now, Hugh, and no longer a mere soldier for the king. You outrank Alexander.”
“Ha! As if that has anything to do with it.” Hugh took up his goblet and drank deeply. Wiping his mouth with his fingers, he said, “I should like to see you try to stand against anything that our eldest brother decided upon. It’s about as simple a thing as hacking a stone’ mountain to bits with a dull blade. And I’ll tell you truly that I thought the idea had merit.”
“Did you?” Justin asked in a low tone. “Because you think I needed to ‘settle’?”
“Because I don’t want you to keep on as you have been, aimless and solitary. You’ve nearly made yourself into a hermit at Talwar, save those few times when you visited Chris at Briarstone. I realize that what you went through with Lady Alicia was painful—”
“You,” Justin said as he abruptly stood, “of all people, should know better than to mention her name to me.” He stalked toward the fire, restless, angry. “God save me,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair. “Was ever a man so cursed as this in his family?” He fell still, staring at the flames in the hearth. “I was content with my life. It was not my intention to wed.”
“Justin,” Hugh said gently, standing to join his brother by the fire. “I would never bring you harm apurpose. If I have done so by my deeds, then I pray you will forgive me. I would undo matters if I could, but you are the only one who can do that.”
Justin lifted his head sharply. “Undo matters?”
Hugh nodded. “Sir Myles wants Lady Isabelle back. Indeed, he has gone to Duke Humphrey and demanded her return.”
“Sir Myles may rot in Hell.”
“And so he may,” Hugh agreed readily. “I believe you’ve made your feelings more than clear about that, but unless you mean to slay him and end up being tried for the crime, that doesn’t answer the problem. He wants your marriage to Lady Isabelle annulled, and has said that if she is returned to him, he will yet allow you to marry his daughter, Lady Evelyn.”
The face Justin made told Hugh everything that he needed to know about the desirability of marrying Lady Evelyn. “Ah,” he said. “I see. Ugly, is she?”
“Nay, she is quite beautiful. Extraordinarily beautiful.”
Hugh looked at him curiously. “But you did not want her?”
His gaze held upon the fire, Justin shook his head. “Not after I saw Isabelle.”
“So it wasn’t simply to punish Sir Myles? Or Alexander and me?”
Justin’s smile tightened with keen unpleasantness. “Oh, yes, it was that, too. I wish you could have seen the look on your face when I told you who I had taken for my bride. Not the wellborn beauty you’d so carefully chosen, but the ignoble daughter of traitors.” He laughed. “’Twas worth all the trouble you put me through in London, I vow. I only wish Alexander could have been here, so that I might have seen his horror, as well. A precious Baldwin wedded to such a one. S’truth, I would have given Talwar away to see his face.”
“Justin,” the earl of Siere said in a calm voice, “if you’re saying that you married that delightful creature simply to make a jest of her, I am going to beat you senseless. And then I’m going to personally return Lady Isabelle to her uncle.”
“You may beat me, or attempt to, if you like,” Justin said with equal calm. “I would verily enjoy breaking a few of your bones at just this moment. But you will not take Isabelle anywhere. Not unless you kill me, first.”
The two men stared at each other before Hugh finally pulled away, walking back to his goblet of wine, which he picked up. “I’m relieved, brother, to know that you’re not quite such a fool as you sounded for a moment. Although how any man who saw Lady Isabelle could be, I don’t understand. She’s stunning enough, by the rood. That hair. And those eyes…” His drifting voice finished the thought. “Hardly the sort of female one would want to get rid of. Which makes me wonder why you’ve not yet made certain of your rights to her.”
Justin stiffened. “She is my wife,” he said.
The earl uttered a short laugh. “She is your bride. She is not yet your wife. You are singularly unable to lie, Justin, so please don’t weary yourself with trying to make excuses. I know what it is to be married to the woman you desire above all others, and separate bedchambers aren’t part of such a relationship. But heed me well. Unless you make Lady Isabelle your wife soon, Sir Myles will have every reason he needs to take her back. There is nothing that Alexander or I will be able to do to legally stop him.”
“You must find a way,” Justin said. “I took Isabelle by force to make her my wife. I will not also force her to share my bed until she is ready to do so.”
Hugh turned to face him. “Then you chance losing her.”
