Page 41 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

Lord Vawdrey looked floored by this. He scratched his head with his knife. “Aye, well, happen he’s not much for writing,” he said.

Mason snorted again. Roland hadn’t written, as he clearly held his intended bride in total contempt! He could hardly point that out in her presence however.

“Jevons has spread the tale wide,” his father grimaced, taking a sip of ale. “How you clambered into Lady Cadwallader’s sickbed, ravished her, and forced her hand to marry you out of shame.”

Linnet gasped. “That is grossly untrue!” she cried and struggled to stand. Mason clamped his arms around her, forcing her to still.

“More lies,” he said calmly. “Linnet married me of her own free will.”

“Of course I did!” she agreed hotly. “I can’t believe my uncle is spreading such a tale!”

Something about her tone sounded off. Then Mason realized what it was. She sounded mortified. He shot a warning look at his father. “You’re upsetting my wife,” he said warningly.

Lord Vawdrey spluttered, lowering his mug of ale. “A fine solicitous husband ye make,” he jeered. “Well, I believe in plain speaking. If it’s too much for your wee wife to stomach, mayhap she should retire so we can hash it out between us men.”

Linnet stiffened but in truth Mason thought it might be for the best. He ran his thumb up and down her upper arm. “You go up and I’ll join you after,” he suggested in a quiet voice as he turned her in his arms.

Linnet’s gaze was wounded and faintly accusing. “But I want to know the news from court.”

This surprised him and not pleasantly. “Why?”

“If it concerns our marriage then of course I want to know what is being said . . . ” She frowned.

He relaxed slightly. “He’ll tell me easier without you here,” he murmured in an undertone. “Trust me.”

Her eyes flew to his. “I do,” she whispered, lowering her gaze but not before he saw the sparks darting from them.

His hand tipped her chin to capture her eyes again. “Don’t fall asleep,” he said lightly.

“I couldn’t possibly.”

He smiled at her tartness. Definitely, his wife was not fainthearted.

She curtsied to Oswald and his father who rose, albeit grudgingly in the case of his father, to return a bow. Then she exited the hall, her head held high.

Lord Vawdrey opened his mouth, but Mason put up a hand forestalling him. He swung round in his chair taking in the wide-eyed servants. He rather suspected more had crept in as the meal progressed.

“Fetch us another flagon of ale and you’re all dismissed,” he said loudly. He would not have Linnet’s servants listening wide-eyed to his father’s rantings.

Lord Vawdrey’s bushy eyebrows rose, but he made no comment and tucked into his meal. There was some foot dragging but eventually a large pitcher of ale appeared and all the servants dispersed. Lord Vawdrey made short work of his meat. He pushed the plate away with a loud burp.

“She’s a plain, drab little thing for two brothers to fall out over,” he said bluntly.

Mason felt himself tense. “I’ve fallen out with no one,” he replied firmly. “Roland passed up an opportunity. I seized upon it. I see no reason for him to feel hard used.”

“No reason?” repeated his father belligerently. “Aye, you’re not so overdelicate in your tastes, are you, boy?”

Mason shrugged. “As you say.”

“She’s brought you a pretty estate, I’ll admit,” said his father screwing up his eyes. “But if you mean to put the bitch to whelp you’ll be disappointed.”

“Father!” objected Oswald.

“What?” his father turned on his firstborn. “I’ll have plain speech, by gads! None of your pussyfooting around Oswald!”

Oswald grimaced. “You are speaking of a lady,” he reminded his father with dignity. “Not a broodmare!”

“Same thing to my mind” growled their father. “I’ve three sons, haven’t I? I know what I’m talking about.”