Page 65 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“Of course, milady!” Gertie assured her. “Truth be told I’d be ever so scared my first night in a strange place anyway. And that there bed is huge!”

“It certainly is,” agreed Linnet.

She crossed to the window and peeped under the heavy scarlet curtains but could not make anything out in the black-as-pitch night. A soft knock on the door was followed by a maid carrying two large jugs of warm water, which Gertie took from her with a word of thanks. After Linnet had secured the door with a large wrought-iron key, she dragged Cuthbert from his chair and they washed, changed into the plain white nightgowns, and huddled in the large scarlet bed.

“I don’t like it here, miss,” said Gertie. “I mean, milady.”

“It will look entirely different in the morning,” Linnet assured her. “We will see the sea and the town and the market with your lace.” She was quite sure that if Gertie were not here beside her she would be sobbing into the pillow herself.

Cuthbert gave a soft snore.

“Humph!” snorted Gertie. “That boy could sleep in a barn!”

Linnet giggled. “This is a palace, Gertie,” she reminded her. “The King lives here!”

“Great draughty place! What would my Diggory say about this, I’d like to know!”

“Did you have chance to speak with him before we left?”

“Just a snatched word or so.”

“I’m sorry,” said Linnet, turning to peer at her in the dark.

Gertie’s curly dark hair sprang up from the pillow as she lifted her head. “You got nothing to apologize for, milady!” she said, sounding shocked. “Think of all the tales I’ll have to tell in the servants’ hall when we gets back,” she said with satisfaction. “Starting with how you put Lady Snooty-whatsit in her place when she tried to say you wasn’t married!”

Linnet smiled into the darkness. “I must keep my head held high, Gertie,” she whispered. “And my resolve firm.”

“You and me both, miss! I mean, milady,” agreed her maid grimly. “We’ll soon let them know what’s what!”

XX

Mason was not surprised when he reached their quarters to find his brother Roland’s room empty. Cowardly young cur, he thought savagely.

He was surprised to find how bleak his chambers looked with their bare stone and threadbare Vawdrey standard hanging in the corner. He had never been much of a one for home comforts, but he hadn’t realized how impersonal a space it was. His medals hung on the mount that had been presented to him by King Wymer, and were the only decoration about the place. He was almost glad he had not been able to bring Linnet here. There was little to cheer or welcome her into their family.

Their father’s aged servant, Meldon, bought them water for washing and bread and cheese for a late supper. Oswald disappeared almost immediately into his own room, closing the door after a murmured “goodnight.” Their father had not accompanied them back but had set off down another corridor, perhaps in search of his youngest son. Mason didn’t care. He stripped down and washed and then threw himself on his bed to sleep. But sleep did not come. Instead he lay there thinking about Linnet. Godsdamnit. His brain would not allow him to contemplate what he would do if their marriage was not upheld. Every time his thoughts started down that path, they were abruptly cut off by a flash of anger. At least on the past two nights he had been able to sleep in the same bed as her. It felt strange, unnatural, not having her there curled into his side. He flung his arm over his head and wondered why it bothered him so much. He had been married little more than a month and a half! He rolled onto his side and sighed heavily. She had faults, he reminded himself. Not the least her topics of conversation when he was fully satiated. He frowned. The gods alone knew why Linnet thought that was the perfect time to bring up other men!

He sat up with a frustrated groan. Scrubbing his face with his hand, he rolled out of bed and made his way back out into the private sitting room where Meldon had had their trunks delivered. He flung open his trunk and retrieved a large wad of illustrated pages he had tucked into the corner. The Tales of Sir Maurency of Jorde, illustrated by Lady Linnet Cadwallader. Making his way over to the fireplace, he added a few more logs, banking it up, and then settled back in his seat to read.

And what he read horrified him. All of Linnet’s hopes and dreams wrapped up in an insipid tale of chivalry and romance. It was horrific! Trite, unrealistic, and idealized. He could not recognize a single value that he shared with the saintly Sir Maurency. This was what she had spent a decade dreaming about in her tower? Being rescued by some paragon of virtue? And instead she had gotten him. The Despoiler of Demoyne. Wymer’s most savage hound of war. He felt a coldness spread in the pit of his stomach. Sir Maurency would probably let her chatter about whatever the fuck she wanted after he had ploughed her. No, that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t have defiled that sweet little virgin in the first damn place! He bit his knuckle and glared at the golden-haired knight with his simpering expression of virtue. This was what Linnet wanted? Well, fuck.

XXI

Linnet first stirred when Gertie was climbing out of the bed at first light.

“Go back to sleep,” her maid whispered. “’Tis only early.”

“Where are you going?” blinked Linnet, rubbing her eyes.

“To have a nose round the servants’ quarters and get any gossip about the Doverdales,” she hissed back, giving her mistress a wink.

Linnet turned over, making Cuthbert grumble and kick out at her shin. He had wriggled around like a monkey in his sleep and had rambling, half-snatched conversations with himself. Linnet heartily pitied whoever his usual bedfellow was! She shuffled back into Gertie’s vacant warm spot and sighed as her eyelids drooped down. She could hear shuffling and bumping already which meant the castle was awakening. She felt a pang for her own home. What would everyone be doing there now? Her thoughts drifted to Mason. He was somewhere nearby at least, though she knew not where. When next her eyes drifted open, Gertie was pouring hot water from a jug into the bowl for her to wash. Cuthbert was nowhere in sight, but his pile of clothes was missing from the chair, so she guessed he was up and about. Linnet yawned and stretched.

“You found your way then,” she commented as she dropped her feet over the side of the bed.

“Oh-ho, yes,” huffed Gertie, plunging a washing cloth into the bowl. “You can trust a servant to find the lay of the land.”

Linnet joined her, taking some leaves of soap which smelled of rose petals. “Mmm, these are lovely, Gertie.”