Page 61 of An Ill-Made Match

“And break up the pack? The Keep’s their home.”

“It’s yours too,” she reminded him. “But you still have business at court.”

“How would I even choose which to take? I don’t have favorites like you.”

Eden cast a reproachful look at him. “You said your father had a favorite,” she reminded him. “And besides, you could take it in turns which dog you selected.”

He shook his head. “A man may have many dogs in his lifetime. But a dog only ever has one master.”

“What do you mean by that, I wonder?” she asked, taking the stick from Dimon, who had dutifully brought it back to her. Seth barked, as she considered which direction to throw it.

Roland watched as she flung it with all her might, only for it to land a short distance away. Clearly, Eden’s youth had not been spent following physical pursuits. “Try throwing it under-arm next time.”

“You mean, I suppose,” she continued, ignoring his advice regarding stick-throwing. “That they are still your father’s dogs? And that you would not like to split them up or take them from the Keep which is their home?” Roland found himself disconcerted. He had not consciously reasoned it out like that, and yet… she was not wrong. “That’s foolish,” she said roundly. “Your Father left the Keep and the animals to you.”

“Actually, he didn’t,” Roland reminded her without heat. “He left them to Oswald.”

“And Oswald then bestowed them on you.”

“True enough.”

“It’s hard to imagine Earl Vawdrey as master of this place,” mused Eden, again, perturbing him. She cast a sidelong look at him. “You’re a better fit, I think.” He thought she echoed his words from earlier unconsciously, but the notion pleased him all the same. “It’s curious to think of the three of you, as young boys living here,” said Eden slowly. “You’re all so very different. What were your mothers like?” Roland gave a start. “Of course, you don’t have to answer,” Eden said hurriedly. “I did not mean to pry-”

“It’s not that,” Roland said, waving her apology aside. “It’s just that I did not know any of them.” Now it was Eden’s turn to look surprised. “Oswald’s mother was my father’s first wife. She died in childbirth and Oswald was reared by a wet-nurse. She was from the village and moved in, becoming my father’s mistress. She was Mason’s mother. Eventually she returned to her husband, but left Mason here. I daresay my Father had tired of her. He then married my mother, his second wife, when Oswald was eight and Mason seven years or thereabouts. Apparently, she was my father’s favorite – he used to say she had a lot of spirit. I wouldn’t know, she broke her neck in a fall from a horse when I was just a baby.”

Eden looked disconcerted. “And your mother’s people?” she asked.

Roland shrugged. “My father never suffered them to visit. Said her kinsmen were a lot of damn fools.”

“You never met any of them?”

“Once I think, some years back. Her father was a country squire or some such. Dull as ditchwater. I didn’t miss out on much.” Eden smiled, but in a perfunctory manner. “Now you,” he said softly.

“I suppose that is fair, but I’ve already told you about my ne’er-do-well sire. My mother died soon after he, and I was raised by my uncle. The rest you know.”

“What rest?” asked Roland in dissatisfaction. “You’ve barely told me anything.”

“About the same amount as you,” she said defensively.

Roland blew out a breath. “I was the youngest son,” he said. “My father’s favorite and what else is there to say? I ran amok about these woods as a boy, became a squire at thirteen to my older brother, Oswald. I came to court at fifteen and trained, and was knighted at twenty.”

“You were betrothed,” Eden prompted him.

“What?”

“To Linnet.”

Roland gave startled laugh. “Aye, that I was. My father betrothed me at twenty-one to Linnet Cadwallader. We never met, and shortly before we were to wed, I jilted her.” He pulled a face. “Luckily Mason was there to pick up the pieces.”

“Luckily? Did you not try to get their marriage annulled?” Eden reminded him dryly.

Roland reddened. “I did,” he admitted. “Not my finest hour.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

She really wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “Purely mercenary reasons,” he said after a heavy pause. “Pettiness and greed.”

She gave him an appraising look and was silent as he helped her over some stepping stones across a brook. “Does it never make things awkward, at family gatherings I mean?”