Page 74 of The Earl

Chapter 29

“’Tis so quiet.”

Sabine said what all four of them were thinking.

At least, Cait had been. They sat in a stranger’s hall, among servants they did not know. But they were, at least, safe. Meanwhile, Conrad and her brother were out there risking their lives. Cait shuddered.

“We must eat.” Idalia picked up her pewter spoon, earning a smile from the steward who watched them from the side of the hall. A few men had remained to garrison the castle, but it felt so indescribably empty compared to how it had been just a few days past. Her family’s hall in Scotland had felt much the same way after her father died.

Few spoke.

Even fewer smiled or laughed, for there was little cause to celebrate. They all knew what the bishop’s revelations meant. This campaign was their very last stand against the English king. If they failed to take the king to task now, it would not happen, and all of the rebels would be punished.

“What do you believe is happening now?” Cait asked, not for the first time since the men left.

Roysa looked up to the ceiling, counting on her fingers. “I believe they have taken London.”

Cait nodded firmly, wanting to believe it. “Aye. I believe that is where they are this very moment.”

Sabine lifted her goblet, smiling at them with forced cheer. “To London. And to the rebellion. My parents would be proud.”

All four lifted their goblets, the other women lifting her spirits, just slightly. She drank, wanting to ask again. How could they be sure? What if the men were not in London? What if they’d been forced to fight? Or worse, what if they’d been captured?

She stopped herself.

It was those precise thoughts that had kept her in Bradon Moor for so long.

What if Terric learned what she’d done? What if Conrad changed his mind about her? What if he reminded her of the trauma she had endured?

Nay, Cait would not allow herself to linger on what-ifs. She’d done enough of that for a lifetime.

“They will be victorious,” she said, her voice firm. “They will be victorious and your king will be forced to negotiate with them.”

All three women looked at her.

“Our king?” Idalia asked, smiling.

The comment caught her off guard, but Idalia was correct, of course. When they were successful. When Conrad returned. When this rebellion was over, they would reside at Licheford. After a visit to Bradon Moor, of course. Cait tried not to think of what her mother would say about it all.

Cait nodded. “I suppose you are right. Though I cannot be proud of the fact.”

Roysa made a face. “If only we could all go north, across the border. To be ruled by a worthier monarch. As you were.”

Were.A strange thought, to no longer be a daughter of Scotland. In residence, at least. In Cait’s heart, she would always be a Scotswoman first.

She’d been hesitant to ask before, but it seemed an appropriate question now.

“What of you, Roysa? Have you spoken to Terric about what will happen when this is all over?”

All eyes turned to her sister-in-law.

“’Tis as uncertain as the king’s response when they do take London.”

Cait knew better than the others what she meant.

The matter was complicated. Although Terric had been born mere minutes before Rory, he had inherited both the Scottish and English titles from their father. Despite Rory’s pleading, Terric refused to relinquish either to him.

And Cait did not blame him for his hesitance.

Rory believed he was ready for such a responsibility, but his actions did not support such a claim. He still cared for his own pleasure more than his duties. Managing two such large properties was a challenge, and Terric would dearly love to bequeath either title on his brother, but Rory was just not ready.

“Do his clansmen resent him spending so much time in England?” Idalia asked her sister. “And bringing warriors to Dromsley?”

Roysa looked to Cait for the answer, as she had not yet been to Bradon Moor.

“’Tis a complicated matter,” she admitted. “People outside of our clan don’t understand it. But those who love my mother, and there are many, understand why Terric has joined the fight. The English king”—she frowned—“our king and his father have wronged her in many ways.”

These women knew her parents’ past, and hers. They knew the English king’s role in her mother’s inheritance being taken away. They knew one of his closest advisors had attempted to rape her. None questioned her clan’s loyalty. “Others, of course, believe Terric’s duty is to Clan Kennaugh. And not to Dromsley. They think he should be back in Scotland.”

Roysa reached for her sister’s hand. “As for what happens after this is over, I’m not yet sure, but Bradon Moor is just across the border. And you”—she shifted her gaze to Cait, then Sabine—“all of you will only be a few days’ ride away. It does not matter if the land is called by a different name.”

The bleak hollowness that had filled her at the start of the meal all but gone, Cait smiled at Roysa, Idalia, and Sabine. The sisters she’d always wanted but never had. Her eyes swelled with tears.

“I am thankful for each of you,” she said. “Grateful to have been brought into your lives.”

It would be beyond cruel if the extended family she’d only just found was torn away from her so soon. They had to have been welcomed through the city’s gates. They had to be okay.

She simply could not entertain the alternative.