Page 23 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

Mason glowered at him as Linnet bit her lip and fiddled with the base of her goblet.

“I would not put it above my kinsman to stir up some trouble,” she said in a worried tone. “I only hope he does not poison your father against me.”

Mason dropped his gaze from her earnest expression. His wife had no way of knowing how poorly she was regarded at court. The name Linnet Cadwallader was synonymous with “wretched invalid.” When his father had betrothed his youngest son to her, he had done so in the full and absolute belief that she was a misshapen creature without long to live. His father had been angry that Roland baulked at the last minute and refused to honor the contract, but he had not really blamed him. And any show of spirit usually earned the old man’s grudging respect. Mason had fully expected to return to find his father and younger brother fully reconciled. It crossed his mind now that both of them might feel differently when they learned of Sir Jevons’s perfidy. After all, Jevons had not wanted his niece to produce any offspring that would obstruct his own eventual claim to the Cadwallader estate. He had grossly exaggerated Linnet’s poor health over the years for his own aims and exploited her isolation.

“I doubt Jevons can stir up too much scandal at court, not without his own role coming to light,” he said with a shrug.

“His own role?” Oswald looked uncertainly from Mason to Linnet and then back again. “What do you mean by that? I thought the coin was far in excess to what was anticipated? Some three times over . . . ” his words trailed off at Mason’s heavy frown.

Linnet drew in a sharp breath. “Then . . . The coffers . . . ?” she gasped, her wide eyes flying to Mason.

He gave a slight shake of his head. “I meant to explain all this to you in a week’s time when I’d got the full picture,” he said shortly. “Now is not the time.”

“It is not kind of you to let Lady Linnet think her kinsman a thief, Mason,” Oswald objected.

Mason glared at him, as a rather hurt look crept over Linnet’s face. “It’s not as straightforward as that, you fool,” he said. “Only think, how did Sir Jevons accumulate all this extra wealth? Use your brain, man.”

Oswald merely stared in puzzlement. It was Linnet who came up with the answer.

“He levied far heavier taxes on the people,” she said tonelessly. “Oh gods. Three times heavier?” Her face paled. “But however would our vassals have managed such a demand?”

Mason shook his head. “They would have found it very hard,” he said grimly. “Very hard indeed.”

Linnet was quiet for the rest of the meal. She only piped up once and that was to query if the soldiers they had sent from the Cadwallader estate for the King’s army would have been sent the supplies she had instructed. Robards assured her he would make enquiries with the tanner and blacksmith and let her know if the orders were fulfilled. She excused herself as soon as the table was cleared, and Cuthbert escorted her back to their rooms. Mason stayed with his brother for a while, looking over a map of the estate. They were plotting out their full tour of the estate for the next couple of weeks. The lands were extensive with many tenants. He invited his brother to join him riding out the next day.

“Wouldn’t it be logical to take the steward?” asked his brother with raised brows. “He can introduce the tenants to you.”

“I’d rather leave Robards here,” answered Mason. “He’s got the castle inventory to finish up.”

“And?” prompted Oswald shrewdly.

“I want people to be able to talk freely in front of me, without a member of the old regime in attendance.”

“That makes sense,” agreed Oswald. “Very well, I shall join you on the morrow.”

Mason drained his cup of ale. “I’ll bid you good night,” he said with a nod.

When Mason got back to their room he found Linnet had snuffed out the candles on her side of the bed and was lying with the covers drawn up to her nose facing the wall. He smiled grimly to himself as he stripped to the waist and washed. She was probably tired after all the recent activity. He glanced over at her a few times as he readied for bed, but she didn’t stir. Something told him she wasn’t asleep, though. To his surprise, once he snuffed out the candle and climbed in beside her, she rolled over so she was facing him.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked in a low voice.

She shifted closer and reached out a tentative hand, resting it against his cheek. “I’ve been thinking about what you might hear tomorrow,” she sighed. “When you start meeting with the tenants.”

He lay still a moment, surprised by her touch. “I’ll report back. You’ll soon hear all.”

“Can I come with you?”

He frowned in the darkness. “I don’t think that would be wise, Linnet,” he said heavily. “You’ve extensive lands. There will be a lot of riding involved for days on end. Can you even ride?”

He heard the pillow rustle as she shook her head. “No, but that’s not what really concerns you, is it?” Her tone was mildly apologetic for contradicting him. “They all despise me, don’t they?” Her tone was flat. She withdrew her hand and wrapped her arms around her slight body.

“Sir Jevons would have levied those taxes in your name, Linnet,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “You must realize you won’t be a popular figure.”

But he knew he wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t already guessed. For a sheltered invalid she was pretty sharp. He reached out and drew her up against him, even though he knew she wasn’t trembling from the cold. He ran a comforting hand down her side, being as careful with her as he would with any shy creature. She lay her head against his chest and let him comfort her. He wasn’t usually so considerate with women, he realized wryly. For some reason, he remembered her words from a couple of weeks ago. You’re different in the dark. He wondered if she really believed that. Her sheltered upbringing certainly hadn’t taught her much about men! He wondered idly how she would spend her days now that she was down from her tower? Once the inventory that had kept her so occupied was finished. She was totting up the castle linens and furnishings now. She would be bitterly disappointed if she expected him to dance attendance on her. He had enough to keep himself occupied advancing his career, and paying court to women had never been to his taste. The war in the North was over, that much was true. But he was not yet ready to play at the role of landed property owner, though pouring over the plans and maps had left him strangely intrigued about estate management. He had a suspicion that he could adapt to this new life eventually, perhaps in twenty years’ time, when his beard was grey, but he was not yet ready for country life. Or a wife! He frowned into the darkness. How did most women occupy themselves he wondered? Needlework, music, gossip. He had seen her embroider, which was one out of three.

“Do you play a musical instrument?” he asked abruptly.

Linnet’s head rose from his shoulder. “I’m afraid my ill health did not permit . . . ” she said before biting her lip. “I suppose I could take some lessons now if you think I ought . . . ” her words trailed off.