“Because there is an old door secured with a chain under one of the stalls,” Gruffydd said. “The door is extremely old, with very old writing on it. So old that no one can make it out. And something is anchoring it shut. We have tried to pry it open, and it will not budge.”
Curtis found that very interesting. He was about to reply when he caught sight of his father heading in his direction. He lifted up a hand, catching the man’s attention.
“Papa,” he called. “Where did you disappear to? I was looking for you earlier.”
Christopher gestured over toward the keep. “I was speaking to your younger brothers,” he said. “Douglas is very unhappy here, Curt.”
Curtis shook his head at the ridiculousness of that statement. “Of course he is,” he said. “And do you know why? Because of the lack of women and the fact that he has to share the attention of what women there are with Andrew, who is a kind and handsome lad. Papa, he’s utterly ridiculous, puffed up like a peacock, thinking he is above everyone else. He harps on Westley constantly, and then I find myself breaking up fights.”
Christopher cleared his throat unhappily. “I was afraid it was something like that,” he said, noting Gruffydd standing next to Curtis. “But we shall speak of it at another time. Lord Gruffydd, it is agreeable to see you again.”
Gruffydd dipped his head respectfully to Christopher. “Lord Hereford,” he said. “It is an honor, fy arglwydd.”
He addressed him formally in Welsh, and Christopher acknowledged the respect with a dip of his head. “Is this your first visit to Brython since Curt married your sister?” he asked.
Gruffydd nodded. “It is, my lord,” he said. “As you are aware, my sister and I do not get on well, but Lord Leominster is telling me that marriage has changed her. I suppose we shall see.”
Christopher smiled faintly. “I suppose we shall,” he said. “Meanwhile, has Curtis told you of everyone who has arrived so far? It is only English this time. We must discuss potential Welsh allies with you first before we invite anyone here to parlay.”
“Agreed,” Gruffydd said. “English alliance is a delicate subject here.”
Christopher waggled his eyebrows in agreement. “Of that, I have no doubt,” he said. Then he turned to his son. “Speaking of delicate subject, I saw that you invited Lord Munstone.”
Curtis nodded. “He is small, but he’s always been a good ally,” he said. “Why?”
“Because I wonder if you know who he married.”
“Who?”
“Larue la Dechy.”
Curtis looked at him in surprise. “He did?” he said. “But he’s old enough to be her grandfather!”
Gruffydd was looking between them. “Who is Larue la Dechy?” he asked.
As Curtis groaned and put a hand over his face, Christopher answered. “A young woman from a very wealthy family who used to be quite sweet on Curt,” he said. “Her father tried very hard to buy his daughter a husband, but in the end, I simply didn’t want her for him. Curtis was destined for great things, not the daughter of a merchant. Even if he did have more money than God.”
“Is that so?” Gruffydd said with interest. “It seems she found a husband after all.”
“One that is very old and quite rich himself,” Curtis said. “Larue was pretty enough, but as petty as a child. She probably married Munstone because she’s hoping he’ll die soon so she can use his money to buy herself a harem of men. She tended to like a few suitors at one time.”
Christopher chuckled, thinking on the young lady who wore the jewels of a queen and demanded the attention of many young men. “Be that as it may, I thought I should warn you that she married Munstone,” he said. “Clearly, she knows this is your garrison, and she knows she is going to see you. I would be on my guard if I were you.”
Curtis lost his humor. “I am hesitant to tell Elle,” he said. “I do not want to upset her. She is already nervous enough about this feast.”
Christopher’s expression suggested that it was probably a good idea not to let Elle know that there was a woman in attendance who once fancied Curtis. There was no use in upsetting the woman. But the truth was that Christopher never told his son how much negotiating went on that he wasn’t aware of, because Larue was used to getting what she wanted. Her father threw half his fortune at Christopher in exchange for a betrothal, but in the end, Christopher wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t consign his son to a woman who, in his opinion, had been ill-mannered and shallow. He’d saddled him with a banshee who was a Welsh princess by blood, but that had been different—Elle was intelligent and a deep thinker. There had been something about her that he had liked. But with Larue… There was nothing he had liked.
He found himself on his guard, as well.
“Papa!Papa!”
Jolted from his train of thought, Christopher turned to see Rebecca and Olivia Charlotte bolting in his direction. Olivia Charlotte eventually crashed into him, but Rebecca was more poised and in control. At twenty years of age, she was a graceful young lady, while Olivia Charlotte was still in the throes of awkward childhood.
“Greetings, my love,” Christopher said, kissing Olivia Charlotte on the top of her blonde head. “Where is your mother?”
“She is coming,” Rebecca said. “She sent us to tell you that she and Lady Leominster are coming down.”
“Call her Elle,” Curtis admonished her softly. “Lady Leominster is so formal. She is your sister.”
