Page 49 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

Mother Ames hesitated. “Yes. And how you apply it is a little unusual.” She was spooning some of the goopy, golden contents into a smaller purple jar. “Now listen to me carefully.”

Linnet leant in and paid attention.

XIV

Mason woke alone with a sore head and a feeling of nagging unease. Seeing Linnet’s empty spot in the bed irritated him from the outset. Where had his blessed wife run off to now? He rolled out of the bed, washed, dressed, and made his way below stairs with a ferocious glower on his face. Servants darted out of his way as he stalked to the great hall. To his dissatisfaction his father was there, consuming a plate of salted fish and a loaf of bread. He beckoned to a hovering servant. “Where’s your mistress?” he barked out as he sat down.

“She broke her fast early my lord and went out on the estate.”

“What?”

The servant blanched as Mason turned in his seat to glare at him.

“Who accompanied her?” he asked in a quieter voice after taking a moment to collect himself.

“Sir Oswald, Cuthbert, and Diggory the groom, Sir Mason,” he answered, wringing his hands.

Mason grunted and turned to his father, who, he noticed uneasily, was watching him with interest.

“If she wasn’t so whey-faced I’d think you were smitten with the wench,” snorted his father.

“Her face is fine,” answered Mason shortly. “Watch your mouth.”

His father’s bushy eyebrows shot up, and he choked on his mouthful of fish.

“I mean it,” said Mason warningly. “I’ll not have her insulted in my hearing.”

“Oh aye,” said his father, waving a hand. “Quite the considerate husband, aren’t you?”

Mason shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll tan her hide if she’s put herself in harm’s way,” he growled, seizing a knife and starting on his morning meal. At least his brother was with her. As if guessing his thoughts, his father slammed down his drink, leaned back in his seat and belched.

“If Oswald wasn’t so cautious he’d have seized the opportunity to wed the wench,” he grumbled. “She’s a fine dowry if nothing else.”

Mason narrowed his eyes at his father’s disgruntled face.

“He’s always been overcautious,” continued Baron Vawdrey bitterly. “I blame his mother. She was an insipid milksop.”

“Oswald’s not a grasping bastard like me,” he answered in gruff defense of his half brother. For some reason, he felt rattled at the idea that his father thought Oswald a more suitable husband for Linnet. He tried to push the irrelevant thought from his mind.

“No, he isn’t,” agreed his father with a regretful sigh. He wiped his moustache with the back of his hand. “More’s the pity. You need to breed your sons like you would a horse. The mare has to have spirit. Your mother was a bold-faced piece.”

Mason shrugged again. He had no interest in his long-dead mother. His memories of her weren’t anything to treasure. “Linnet’s not a milksop,” he found himself saying instead. “She’s smart. She’s no coward.”

His father snorted. “I hope you’re right. Else you’ll be giving me a freckled grandson with a weak heart.”

Mason wryly noticed that his father now accepted she would bear him a son. “Nothing wrong with her heart,” he said, buttering a piece of bread. “I told you, the Jevonses lied.”

“So you say,” started his father, pushing his plate away and opening his mouth to further the argument. Mason turned his head, holding up his hand for silence, as he heard the light, determined tread in the hallway.

He recognized that step. Sure enough, mere seconds later, Linnet sailed into the great hall with Oswald and Cuthbert trailing in her wake.

“Your color is certainly a lot better,” she was saying over her shoulder at Oswald. Neither of them seemed to have noticed him, and his father sat at the head table.

“That curious brew she gave me does seem to have had a beneficial effect,” admitted Oswald in a plaintive tone. “But it tasted absolutely vile, mind you.”

Mason stood up, a scowl on his face. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded in an angrier voice than he’d intended.

He felt a bitter clenching in his gut that he wasn’t sure was from overimbibing the night before or something else entirely.