Page 29 of An Inconvenient Vow

“Your half-brothers?” Sabina asked with a flicker of interest. “They were not present at the… at what happened two days ago?”

Jeffree grimaced. “Thankfully not. They were abovestairs at the time. They are but ten and twelve years of age.”

“I see. And what are they like?”

“Like?” Jeffree was taken aback. A strange question, for they were naught but boys.

“Well, they are not De Crecys,” she pointed out. “So, I might actually like them.”

Jeffree snorted. “I have no interest in children. In my opinion, they are wholly unformed at that age and hardly worth the time or effort of getting to know.”

“What a peculiar attitude,” she responded at once. “I daresay you know what you were like that at that age and thought yourself worth the knowing.”

Jeffree frowned down at her. “I was squired to Sir Hereward of Wolmer Hall at thirteen. That was when I made the transition from boy to man.”

He felt her eyes on his face, but when he turned his head, she glanced away. “Was Sir Hereward a member of your uncle’s party? Only I don’t think I remember anyone pointing him out.”

“He was not,” Jeffree replied shortly. “Our association with that family was through my grandfather, not my uncle. The connection has grown distant. I have not seen him in two years at least.”

She made no reply to that, and looking up, Jeffree was almost relieved to see his stepfather ushering his two half-brothers into the hall with a harried expression on his face. The boys gave their father the slip almost at once and came hurtling in their direction with poor Sir Dudley hurrying in hot pursuit.

“Is this her?” Jasper asked, coming to a skidding halt directly in front of Sabina. Or was it Crispin? Jeffree sometimes forgot which of his brothers was which.

“Stand up straight and present your bows,” Jeffree responded sternly. Both boys stopped, shuffled their feet, and gave untidy bows.

“This is my wife, Sabina de Crecy,” Jeffree intoned gravely. “These are my brothers, Crispin and Jasper Vyse.”

“I am Crispin,” the shorter of the two proffered. “I’m ten.”

“And I’m Jasper,” the other added, not to be outdone. “I was twelve on the feast of St Vester.”

“How nice to meet you,” Sabina responded at once, with what Jeffree could not help but notice was a warmness heretofore lacking in her manner. “I am vastly happy to make your acquaintance.”

“You are our sister-in-law now, Lady Sabina,” Jasper pointed out, quite needlessly.

“We have not had one of those before,” Crispin chimed in.

Jeffree was just about to ask them not to make asinine remarks when Sabina responded thoughtfully with: “Nor I, a brother.” She regarded them with every evidence of interest and approval. “It will be a most interesting experience for us all.”

This response seemed the right thing to say for both boys beamed at once.

“Your pardon, Jeffree,” Sir Dudley panted, catching up with them. “They are slippery as eels!”

He nodded and Sir Dudley attempted a grab at Jasper’s shoulder, only to grasp at thin air for the boy twisted nimbly out of the way.

“Will you come and stay with us at Longacre?” Jasper panted, dodging his way in between Sabina and Jeffree as he continued to elude his father. “We have our own ponies and there’s trout in the river that passes through Long Marsh.”

“We can show you the best spots to try and tickle them,” Crispin offered generously.

“That all sounds wonderful,” Sabina answered easily, as though no ill-will existed between his mother and herself. “But I have only recently retaken my own home which was wickedly stolen from me by an out and out villain. Your brother restored it to me only this morning and I have much to do to bring it back into repair.”

Jeffree saw the startled look that stole over his stepfather’s face at this news.

“Did Jeffree challenge him to a duel?” Crispin asked with a spark of interest, kindling in his eye. Jasper stopped bobbing and weaving his way around them to listen avidly.

“No, he did not,” Sabina responded, and Jeffree saw both boys’ faces fall. They glanced toward him disparagingly as though to say: Nay, he would not, the dull dog!

“He employed far more rough and ready methods, I assure you,” Sabina continued. “Why he pulled Alfred Hendry from his bed and shook him like a rat he is. Then he dragged him down the stairs, so he bounced on every step, then threw him in the water trough and bade him never darken my doorstep again!”