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“They are anise and caraway,” Aimee explained. “Both are beneficial to the digestion. My father imports and sells many such herbs and spices.”

Freda’s face fell, and she lapsed into an awkward silence. Really, did she expect his new bride to try and conceal her origins? He shot a sardonic look at his cousin, but she was careful to avoid his gaze.

“I will make sure to let them know you will attend,” he said gruffly. “The tournament, I mean.”

Aimee looked gratified. He did not look to his sister or cousin. “Perhaps you could suggest a tailor for my sister’s use,” he said, ignoring the way Trude bridled. “She needs some new gowns made up. My cousin also.”

“Oh,” twittered Freda. “I am sure my own needs are amply met by my existing wardrobe.” He ignored this, as her cuffs were plainly fraying for all to see.

“Of course,” Aimee responded. “Mr. Fulcher in Kiln Street is sure to give satisfaction. He is patronized by a good many court folk.”

“I am sure –” Magnatrude started stiffly, but he cut her off.

“Have him come to the house as soon as ever he may to attend on whoever has need of him. If Trude has no use for a new gown, then have him see to Freda or your own wants.” Both his cousin and sister turned quite crimson at his words, though for different reasons.

“Aye, husband,” Aimee said after a moment’s pause. “I will send for him directly.”

He gave a swift nod, and the second course was set down on the table by a solidly built male and a nervous looking boy. It was roasted steak in a red wine sauce accompanied by a mushroom plate-pie.

Konrad applied himself to this with such absorption that the lack of table conversation did not unduly bother him. Freda made a few desultory comments to the table at large to which he thought either his sister or wife made murmured reply. He abstained from the final course, a tart of preserved apricots, cherries, and hazelnuts, and quit the table, making his way up to his bedchamber.

Konrad checked on the threshold, thinking for a moment that he had mistaken the room. In addition to the huge platformed bed hung about with its curtains, the room now contained several large and handsome pieces of furniture including a huge cabinet with decorated doors and a spectacularly decorated trunk. He eyed these a moment in silence and then turned to look at the fancy doublet laid across the bottom of the bed. Had Aimee Ankatel presented him with yet another gift?

As if on cue, he heard the tap on the door. Immediately, he knew it was not Jakeman and span around. “Come in!”

His wife appeared in the doorway, smiling brightly. “My lord, I trust your new furnishings are to your liking?” she enquired politely.

Konrad paused before he made reply. He wondered if now was the moment for some plain speech between them. “Come in,” he said slowly. It was a large room, and he gestured vaguely toward the seating area by the window. She surprised him by coming in quite readily and closing the door behind her.

He had expected some trepidation on her behalf, but she showed no unwillingness to be alone with him in a room with a bed. In view of the uneasy memories of last night that had plagued him all day, that did relieve him somewhat. She walked to the center of the room and turned about to face him, tipping her head to one side. “Yes?”

“Be seated,“ he said and watched her sit in a chair by the window. After a moment, he joined here there, lowering himself into the chair facing hers. “I think we should set some things straight.” Instead of looking nervous, she gave him an encouraging smile. Konrad took a deep breath. “I think of this house as your domain,” he said flatly. “Just as Bartree Castle will always be mine.”

She nodded her head, though he was not sure she took his meaning at all. “You can put whatever you want in this room,” he stressed. “I will not object because I do not consider myself to hold any sway here.”

She frowned over his words. “My father gave us this house as a wedding gift,” she pointed out.

He huffed out a breath. Clearly, she had not taken his meaning. For a man who habitually spoke with brutal frankness, he was finding it damned hard going for some reason. He placed his hands on the arms of the chair. “Look, Aimee, your father was quite open about what he wanted from our union.” She blinked but did not speak, so he pressed on. “To speak plain, he wanted a stud for you and a title for his grandchildren.”

Instead of turning pale at his blunt speech as he had imagined she would, she turned instead a little pink. “My father has always liked children,” she murmured. This confounded him for a minute, as he had expected her to protest his words.

“Well,” he said gruffly. “Be that as it may. I can understand that you might need time to accustom yourself to the position you now find yourself in.”

“Find myself in?” she interrupted him. “You misunderstand, my lord. The choice was all mine.” She took a deep breath. “My father wanted a good marriage for me, it is true, but it was I who picked you out for my bridegroom.”

Konrad stared at her uncomprehendingly. What? “But Renlow?” he floundered blankly. “Your sister – I thought – ?”

Aimee gazed back at him with a puzzled expression. “What about them?”

“Was Renlow not your intended groom?” he demanded.

Aimee’s mouth dropped open. “Sir Renlow?” She shook her head. “No, of course not!” She sounded quite indignant at the notion. “I told my father after Kellingford that it was you I wanted.”

Her answer had Konrad reeling. He gazed at her in stupefaction.

“Sir Renlow was always intended for Ursula,” she stressed carefully, then frowned. “Was that not plain from the outset?”

He cast his mind back to the meal at her father’s house. “I do not think your father ever explicitly stated which of you was my intended bride,” he admitted slowly.