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Seb squeezed his eyes shut. He could still hear them, his parents’ vicious arguments, their exuberant reconciliations. He thought about brushing her off but if he wanted this to work then he needed to be honest. Needed her to understand what he was offering—and what he could never give her.
‘My mother didn’t want a baby. She didn’t want to ruin her figure with pregnancy, didn’t want to stop partying, didn’t want to go through labour. But she did want to be a countess and an heir was part of the deal. She told me once, when she was drunk, how happy she had been when they said I was a boy so that she didn’t have to go through it all again. That if it was up to her she would have remained childless.’
I had you because I had no choice. It was the worst year of my life.
‘Luckily there were grandparents, schools, nannies. She could at least pretend to be child-free—except when it suited her. I don’t want our child to think that, to feel like a burden. I want to welcome him or her into the world with open arms and make sure he or she knows that they were wanted. Because we may not have planned it but I do want it—and you do too. That’s why it matters, that they are born with all the ridiculous privileges this title gives them. That’s why it matters that we marry.’
She didn’t say anything for a long moment but her fingers closed over his, strength in her cool grasp. ‘Okay,’ she said finally. ‘Three weeks on Friday it is. Let’s go and see the registrar tomorrow morning and get booked in. I guess I should register with a doctor nearby as well.’
‘Good.’ He returned the pressure, relieved. At her acquiescence. At her silent understanding. ‘Are you tired or do you want the full guided tour of your new home?’
‘Are you kidding? A personal guided tour from the hot prof himself? Show me everything.’
* * *
‘So this is the Norman keep. Family legend has it that a knight, Sir William Belleforde, came over with the invasion in 1066 and was granted these lands. During the next few centuries the name was anglicised and corrupted to Beresford. He built the keep.’
‘Cosy.’ Daisy pivoted, looking about her at the dark grey walls built out of blocks of grey stone, the narrow window slits. She pulled her cardigan closer as the wind whistled through the tower. ‘Was this it?’
‘There was a wooden castle attached but this was the main defensive base and would have been quite roomy. There were three floors inside here—look, there’s the old staircase. There was also a fortified wall around the rest of the castle. When you visit the village you’ll see that many of the older houses are built with the stone from the walls.’
Daisy tilted her head back, trying to imagine one thousand years away. ‘Walls, battlements, arrow slits. Nothing says home like defensive buildings. Were there many battles here?’
Seb shook his head. ‘There was very little fighting here even during the Wars of the Roses and the Civil War. My ancestors were too canny to get involved.’
‘No Cavalier ghosts trailing along with their heads under their arms?’ Obviously this was a relief and yet didn’t a house like this deserve a few ghosts?
‘Not a one. We changed our religion to suit the Tudors and the colour of our roses for the Plantagenets. You’ll be glad to hear that an impetuous younger son did go to France with Charles II and when he inherited the title he was made first Earl of Holgate. Although some say that was because his wife was one of the King’s many mistresses—with her Lord’s consent.’
‘Good to know she was doing her bit for the family’s advancement. Is that still a requirement for the countess? I’m not sure I’m up to it if so!’
He shot her a wry smile. ‘I’m glad to hear it. No, I’m more than happy with the earldom, no favours for advancements required. Of course by then the keep was abandoned as a home. It was already unused by the late fourteenth century and the Great Hall was built around one hundred years later.’
He led her out of the chill stone building and swung open the huge oak door that led into the Tudor part of the castle.
Daisy had spent an entire day in this part of the castle, photographing a wedding. It had felt completely different with long tables set out, the dais at the far end filled with a top table, the candle-like iron chandeliers blazing with light. ‘I can see why they moved in here. It may be large but it’s a lot warmer. Having a working roof is a definite advantage. A floor is helpful too.’
‘Especially when you let the place out,’ he agreed. ‘Brides can be a bit precious about things like dirt floors and holes in the roof.’
