Curtis simply nodded, but there were tears in his eyes. “As you wish,” he murmured. “But I am still so very sorry.”
Roi put his arms around his brother, and they hugged one another tightly as Christopher, Dustin, and Westley looked on. In fact, all Christopher could do at that moment was whisper a prayer of thanks—thanks that there would be no animosity between his eldest sons, thanks that they could move forward and grieve Beckett as he deserved to be grieved without any additional drama with the situation.
It was bad enough as it was.
Little did Christopher know that it was about to get much, much worse.
CHAPTER TWO
Cicadia Castle
Cheltenham
“What did yourfather say?”
The question came from a young woman far too eager for information that didn’t concern her in the least. But it concerned her cousin, and in her mind, that made it her business, whether or not it actually was.
She was addressing a young woman in a pale shift with a surcoat of thin, yellow wool over it. The young woman was ethereal in her beauty, with long blonde curls to her buttocks and a face of perfect porcelain. For certain, tales of the beauty of Diara le Bec were far and wide.
For good reason.
“Hush,” Diara said as she entered the chamber and shut the door. She went so far as to grab her cousin and slap a hand over her mouth, dragging her to the other end of the chamber, where a cushioned window seat overlooking the small bailey awaited them. Only then did she remove her hand from her cousin’s mouth and shove her onto the seat.
“Well?” her cousin said anxiously. “What has happened?”
Diara appeared genuinely distressed. “Terrible news, I am afraid,” she said. “It would seem that Beckett de Lohr was killed in an accident a short time ago. My father has just received word of it, and he is beside himself.”
Her cousin’s eyes widened in shock. “Nay!” she gasped. “It cannot be!”
“I am afraid it is.”
Diara spoke grimly, but genuine grief wasn’t there. She spoke of the incident in an almost detached manner, which gave her cousin pause when responding. In truth, she reacted the only way she could.
With polite pity.
“I am so terribly sorry,” her cousin said. “Is that what your father wanted to speak with you about?”
“Aye.”
“But what happened to him? What kind of accident?”
Diara sighed sharply. “A horse threw him,” she said, putting her hand to her head to stave off the headache that was coming on. She suffered from them regularly, sometimes so powerful that she couldn’t rise from her bed. “Please do not ask any further questions, Iris. I cannot answer them right now. This news… it is devastating.”
Lady Iris le Bec was about to disobey her cousin’s request, but she could see by the look on Diara’s face that the woman was serious about no more questions.
Devastating? Perhaps.
But to whom?
The betrothal between Diara and Beckett de Lohr had only been sealed for a couple of years, but in that time, she’d met the handsome Beckett only once. They’d spent some time together. Beckett hadn’t been particularly attentive, but Diara was certain she could change that with time. He seemed to be a dreamer, too—he wanted to travel and do great things, things that didn’tinclude a wife, and he’d told her so. Diara hadn’t told her father about those conversations, mostly because it would have enraged the man, so she kept it to herself. She was convinced she could change Beckett’s mind once they were married, and she’d clung to that hope, though deep down, perhaps she wasn’t entirely certain she could make the man into something he didn’t want to be. But she was determined to be a good wife because that was what her parents wanted.
And now this.
But knowing all of that…whywas she speaking of devastation at the news?
Iris wondered.
“Deedee, I must ask you a question,” she said. “Mayhap it is not a kind question, but I feel I must ask.”
