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He collapsed into a large chair opposite her and regarded her broodingly a moment. “I thought you didn’t approve of letting old servants take over new households,” he found himself pointing out rather bluntly.

Aimee frowned over his words. “I don’t think I quite – ?”

“When it came to your sister, at least,” he interrupted her.

Her expression cleared. “Oh, I see. Well, it is a little different in this case. I have not been sat here all day while Golda takes the lead, if that is what you’re thinking.” She gave him a rueful smile.

“What have you been doing, then?” he asked brusquely. Strange to say, he was actually interested in her answer.

“Overseeing the unpacking and the furnishing of the house,” she answered promptly. “A carpenter came out this afternoon to see to a few things that needed doing. Then I made an inventory of the items we still need.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I have been very busy, for all I now seem at leisure.”

He grunted. “And how would it have been different if you had ended up with Hilda instead of Golda?” he heard himself ask.

Aimee looked just as surprised by his question as he felt voicing it. “Well,” she said slowly. “Hilda would have done her utmost to get under my feet, tutting at every decision I made and imploring me to remain in my bedchamber, while she imagined a hundred slights against me which she would then pour in my ears, whilst assuring me that she was my only ally,” she finished dryly.

Kentigern’s eyebrows rose as he turned this over. “Why would your father keep some tiresome woman in his household?” he asked.

“She was my mother’s servant before his,” she answered simply. “He will never turn her out for that reason alone.”

“No, just palm her off on one of his daughters,” he pointed out.

“I’m sure he thought he was doing Ursula a kindness,” she said mildly.

“She sounds more of a hindrance than anything.”

“Yes,” Aimee agreed. “Though in truth, she does not irk Ursula as much as she does me.”

He thought there was probably a reason for that but managed to hold his tongue. No doubt her sister would encourage such mawkish thinking. Once again, he congratulated himself on having avoided taking the elder Miss Ankatel to wife.

“Supper will be served in here in half an hour,” his wife said with a studied casualness that made him immediately wary. “Perhaps you could send word to your sister and cousin informing them of the fact?”

He regarded her in silence a moment and saw her color rise before she turned her face away. He was just supposing there must have been some ruffled feathers when he heard a footfall he recognized in the passage outside. “Jakeman!” he hailed his servant loudly.

The sandy colored head peered into the doorway. “My lord?”

“Run up a message to Mistress Magnatrude and Freda, would you? Tell them they are expected in the dining chamber in half an hour.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He glanced across at Aimee, but she was avoiding his gaze. “My sister is obstinate,” he found himself explaining gruffly. “She … has not had the easiest life.” Aimee’s expression was polite, but she did not press him for any more detail. For some reason, this spurred him on more than if she had actually shown interest. “Before the war, she was betrothed,” he let slip. This did capture her attention.

“It was called off?” she asked, then her expression fell. “He did not die?” she squeaked, lifting her hand to her mouth in dismay.

Konrad smiled grimly. “He wed another, on the eve of the Battle of Demoyne. Can’t say I blame him, as things looked bleak. Likely, Kimarne did not think to spend another night in a woman’s arms.” Aimee’s lips formed an unspoken ‘oh’. “But Magnatrude did not see it that way. She took it hard.”

“Yes,” Aimee answered sympathetically. “I can see she might have.”

“His wife was low born, an alewife from his own household,” he found himself continuing. “Magnatrude saw that as added insult to injury.”

For some reason, that made his pretty wife’s color bloom forth again. “I see,” she said quietly. “And he did not try to cry off from his hasty marriage when he lived to see another day?”

Konrad shook his head. “His wife never gave him cause to regret it. Nine months later she was delivered of his son and heir.”

Aimee regarded him steadily. “I suppose that secured her position,” she observed frankly. “Should you like a son?” she asked with a directness that almost floored him.

“Of course,” he heard himself answer, though in truth it was not something he had considered in years. Not since he had lost his birthright. Of course, their marriage had returned that to him.

She nodded thoughtfully, and Konrad noticed a servant had entered the room bearing a tray with pitcher and goblets. He sat forward in his seat as she plunked it down on the table and poured their wine. This must be Golda, he guessed, noting her steely-eyed gaze and firmly compressed lips. And though Aimee might not realize it, this woman was just as staunchly partisan as Hilda would have been.