Page 4 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“And should now pass down to her daughter,” he cut her off.

“I have several items in the strong room,” interrupted Sir Jevons stiffly. “How am I retrieve them if you take the keys from Millicent?”

“You will be unable to retrieve them without supervision,” answered Mason coolly. “And without proof that any item in the strong room belongs to you.”

Lady Jevons handed over the silver chatelaine from which the keys were suspended, her hands quivering with fury. Mason leant down and clipped it directly to Linnet’s own belt.

“I want to show you something.” He led her resolutely down the steps to the first landing.

“If you venture outside she’ll get an inflammation of the lungs,” shouted her uncle. “You don’t understand how sickly she truly is.”

“I don’t normally venture below stairs,” Linnet admitted timidly.

He looked back at her with impatience before drawing her to the arrow loop he had paused beside earlier. “What do you see?”

She peered out of the narrow slit in the wall. “The tents,” she answered dutifully. “For the wedding celebrations.”

“There are only two tents out there, Linnet,” he answered gravely.

“What?” she turned back to him. “Whatever do you mean?” Her breath was coming in small pants now. “There must be more! My uncle said the whole estate would celebrate the nuptials!”

“They’ve been deceiving you,” he answered harshly. “Probably for years.”

Her eyes flew wide and she stared up at him before turning back to the view outside. He watched as she moistened her lips. “How—?”

“On our approach I wondered at the two solitary tents and where they had been set up. It seemed a strange location. On my way up here, it occurred to me. It was almost as if they had been perfectly placed so that anyone with this view and only this view would see them.” He paused letting his words sink in. “They were put there purposely. For you. I can assure you the rest of the castle is quite deserted.”

Linnet swung back round to face him. “But . . . but the vassals? Our neighbors, the tenants on my lands . . . ”

“None of them have been invited.”

She drew a deep steadying breath. “My uncle assured me that all would celebrate below stairs on the event of my marriage.”

“Secure in the knowledge that you would never venture below stairs.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I can scarcely believe it!” she whispered. “But why?”

He scratched his jaw, leaning one shoulder against the stone. “Can’t you guess?” he asked indifferently.

Tears stood out in her eyes as she stared back at him. Misery in those green depths. “No,” she answered, raising her chin.

“I think you can.”

“I want to see,” she said quietly. “With my own eyes, I want to see it.”

He shrugged. “Do you have a cloak?” he asked, mindful of her uncle’s words.

“I never go outside,” she reminded him.

“Boy!” he shouted, not taking his eyes off her.

The page appeared on the steps above them. “Milord?”

“Fetch your mistress a cloak. Someone else’s cloak.”

Cuthbert jumped from one foot to the other as he considered this request.

“Now, boy,” growled Mason, who was not accustomed to waiting. Cuthbert took off with alacrity.