Page 35 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

Enid gave a strangled cough and Sir Chilton slammed his cup down.

“I—er—I’m afraid she was not the most sympathetic of characters,” Linnet agreed hurriedly.

She took a sip of her ale and was surprised to find it very pleasant. “Did your mother teach you to brew ale?” she asked shrewdly.

“Taught me and the wife,” he said, nodding his head.

Linnet made a hasty decision. “Well your ale is certainly far nicer than what we have up at the castle now,” she said, thinking of the bitter ale she had tried. “I shall visit with your mother, Wickers.” She gave him a nod. “And see what we can do about restoring her to her former position with the castle staff. Perhaps in an advisory capacity if her knees aren’t up to the stairs. I am sure we can sort out the issues with her tenancy.”

Johnny Wickers blinked at her. He looked back at Cuthbert quizzically. Cuthbert gazed back at him. “Right you are, milady,” he said finally. “If you’ll pardon the liberty.”

Sir Chilton snorted. “Fetch us another jug of ale, while you’re about it,” he said. “And look lively, man.”

When Wickers bowed his way out of the room, he turned back to Linnet with a rueful expression on his face. “You didn’t ought to make promises like that, Lady Vawdrey,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Promises you can’t keep!”

“Why can’t I keep them?” asked Linnet, lowering her ale cup with a frown.

“Your husband will no doubt overrule any such emotional decision you make about your tenants.”

“I don’t see why. And I’m not being emotional,” responded Linnet. “Mason himself has told me that the Jevonses were levying exorbitant tithes. He is setting about putting things to rights as we speak.”

“Is he, by all that’s holy?” asked Sir Chilton, quirking an eyebrow at her. He drained his cup and then wiped the droplets from his moustache. “I must say, you paint a vastly differing picture of him than the one commonly held,” he observed wryly.

“Chilton!” cut in Enid sharply. She turned to Linnet. “You must excuse my brother-in-law. Ale vastly loosens his tongue.”

Linnet paused and looked across at Cuthbert whose look of curiosity no doubt mirrored her own. “What do you know of my husband’s reputation?” she asked Chilton slowly.

He shot a slightly panicked look across the table at Enid. “Oh, er, well as to that . . . ”

“He knows naught,” cut in Enid smoothly. “Save for that spoken by ignorant and loose tongues at King Wymer’s court.”

“They call him Wymer’s most savage hound,” said Sir Chilton, holding up one finger for attention. “’Tis said the King looses him only on his worst enemies in battle.”

Cuthbert made a choked sound, but when Linnet turned to him, his expression was enthralled. “Is my master cunning in battle?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“Cunning like a fox and just as ruthless. ‘Tis said he broke the siege at Demoyne in just three days and made a terrible example of the traitor lords who had holed up therein.”

“What example?” breathed Cuthbert.

Sir Chilton drew his finger across his throat and Linnet bounced up in her seat. “That is quite enough, Sir Chilton,” she said firmly. When Cuthbert protested, she added with dignity: “If Sir Mason chooses to share those tales with us we should hear them directly from him. Not from someone who wasn’t even there.”

Sir Chilton laughed as Enid apologized for her brother-in-law’s gossiping tongue. “It seems the Hound of Demoyne has met his match in one just as fierce,” he said with a wink, and Linnet found it impossible to remain cross with him.

It was almost three o’clock when they returned home. Gertrude came hurrying towards them once they had alighted from the Jaunceys’ litter, made their farewells, and were crossing the courtyard.

“Why you’ve been ever so much longer than we thought you would, milady,” she huffed. “We started to get fair worried when nuncheon came and passed without you.”

“We had pasties in The Bear and Staff,” piped up Cuthbert. “So you needn’t have worried we would go hungry.”

Gertrude let out a yelp. “Not that nasty rough place, milady!” She almost tripped on her own feet.

“Oh, but we had a private room,” Linnet hurried to reassure her. “And a gentleman escort in Sir Chilton so all was well.”

“Well I never,” her maidservant gasped with a sidelong at Linnet. “And you so gently reared!”

“There were no fights today, Gertie,” Cuthbert chimed in. He turned back to Linnet. “Last time I saw Jem Lemmings get a broken pate,” he said with satisfaction. “And a woman with her chests out threw a jug of ale on him after.”

Linnet blinked. “Her chests out?” she echoed faintly.