“I did.”
Val continued to chew. “I’ve not been to Southampton in quite a while,” he said. “I have heard the weather is quite fair there. Mayhap my mother and I are due for a visit.”
Margaretha was sipping at her hot, mulled wine, her favored drink. “There is nothing in Southampton that I could want for,” she said, making it clear she had no intention of visiting the d’Avignon homestead. “Much like your friend’s son, I prefer to remain at home.”
McCloud turned to her. “I do not blame you in the least, my lady,” he said. “Selborne is a beautiful place. I would never want to leave it, either.”
Margaretha looked at the man, hearing that appraising tone again, the same one she’d heard when he’d first arrived at Selborne. She didn’t like it in the least and her eyes narrowed as she responded.
“The castle has been in my family for well over two hundred years,” she said. “My family heritage is Saxon, a long and distinguished line. We managed to keep our lands when the Normans came and when I die, the estate shall be passed to Valor.”
McCloud wasn’t oblivious to the woman’s suspicious nature; he could read it in her expression. Not that he blamed her, for in this case, she was absolutely right– he was quite envious of Selborne. He had been since he’d walked through the gates and, in seeing the great castle, the plans that had been working in his mind since Whitehill began to take definitive form.
He’d had the entire afternoon to think on his scheme and plan what was to come. It was a pity for greatness like Selborne to belong only to one man, one family. But confident in his plan as he was, he also knew that he had to be very careful about his words or actions if Lady Margaretha was already suspicious of him. Yet his plan, for all of its unsophisticated beauty, was so very simple….
If he could marry Vesper to Val, his troubles would be over.
Even if McCloud’s body didn’t move swiftly these days, his mind did. It was clear that Val wasn’t married and McCloud was seeking a husband for his daughter. That has been his whole purpose of going to Eynsford– a marriage for his daughter that would lift their family out of their poverty-stricken state. What could be better than a marriage between Vesper and his dear friend, the Itinerant Justice of Hampshire? Not only would it ensure the survival of the House of d’Avignon, but if Mat’s ghastly deeds were ever discovered, surely Vesper’s husband could not punish his wife’s brother.
It was the perfect situation.
But he had to be more clever than Lady de Nerra for his plans to come to fruition. He didn’t want her blocking his attempts. In truth, there was something to be said for him marrying again as well. And with Lady de Nerra being a widow, that might be another avenue to pursue.
Ah, yes… be clever!
“Then your son and his future wife are very fortunate to not only have such a distinguished matriarch, but such a fine estate,” he said after a moment, throwing in a little flattery for the old bird. “In fact, Val never told me he had such a lovely mother. I shall become very angry at him for not telling me.”
Ripples of surprise rolled across Margaretha’s face, stumped for a reply for the first time in a very long while. But that surprise quickly turned to annoyance. “Flattery will not work on me,” she told McCloud. “I am too old to fall victim to such things.”
McCloud grinned. “That cannot be true,” he said. “For certainly, when I first saw you, I believed you to be Val’s sister.”
Margaretha nearly choked on her wine, but her round cheeks flushed a bit. “Then your eyesight is terrible.”
“That is possible, but I still know a lovely woman when I see one, Lady de Nerra. You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth.”
Margaretha hadn’t been complimented in so many years that the soft praise poked holes in her brusque matter. Perhaps McCloud was only feigning his flattery, perhaps he wasn’t. Perhaps he really meant it. Margaretha was so unused to such things that she simply didn’t know what to think and her feminine vanity, long buried, began to awaken, just a little.
As his mother flushed and pretended not to care that a man had paid her a compliment, Val watched the entire scene with a grin on his face. He loved seeing his mother ruffled.
“Keep talking, McCloud,” he encouraged the man. “Mayhap you will cause her to smile. I think she likes it.”
Margaretha waved a hand at her son as if to brush him off. “You are a beast,” she told him. “Flattery is the product of a weak male mind.”
Val’s eyebrows lifted, looking at the other men around the table, including Calum. “Did you hear that?” he said to the knight. “Your mind must be horribly weak because I know for a fact that you flattered Celesse most sickeningly when you were courting her.”
Calum laughed. “And I thought I was being rather clever about it.”
Celesse patted his cheek. “You were, my love,” she said. “You were so clever that I believed every word.”
“And now look at you.”
Celesse sighed and patted her pregnant belly. “Aye, now look at me,” she said. Then, she looked at Vesper. “Are you married, my lady?”
Vesper, who had been paying less attention to the conversation and more attention to her food, looked at Celesseas if startled by the question. Mouth full, she struggled to swallow her bite.
“N-Nay, my lady, I am not,” she said.
Celesse didn’t sense that she might be embarrassing the guest. “I cannot believe such a thing,” she said, meaning it as a compliment. “You are quite lovely, which I am sure has not gone unnoticed by any of the unmarried knights here. Are you betrothed?”
