William simply wouldn’t wait any longer.
Things had to be out in the open.
“You will allow me time to think on it,” he said after a moment. “I must also speak to my wife, given that Annie is her cousin. But first, I wish to speak to you about something else. Will you sit down?”
That wasn’t exactly what War had been hoping to hear, but he did as he was asked. He didn’t want to do anything contrary to William’s wishes considering he was trying to gain his wants from the man. He moved over to the chair William had indicated and sat stiffly, perched on the edge of the chair as if he were going to leap up at any moment. The nervousness was showing again and it was Kieran who finally poured him a measure of wine and handed it to him, simply to relax him. William stood up and leaned against his table, facing War.
For a moment, the two of them simply stared at one another. There was curiosity in the air, perhaps even puzzlement. Neither one of them really understood the other. There were elements at play that ran deep, elements of grief and bewilderment, but open interest and suspicion. There was even… hope.
Aye, perhaps even that.
It was a strange mixture of sensations.
“The only way to bring about this subject is to start from the beginning,” William finally said. “My wife’s duties, as chatelaine, involve many things. But one of the things she personally manages is the cleaning of the keep. I know it sounds strange to bring that up at this moment, but I have a reason for doing so. She was overseeing the cleaning of the chambers in the area where you are currently lodged and that included your room. The servants were finished sweeping your chamber when one of them bumped your saddlebags, which fell over onto the floor. The contents spilled out. Let me assure you that no servant touched your possessions, but in order to get them back into the bag, my wife did.”
War was listening carefully. “It was an accident, I am certain,” he said. “I am not distressed. I am pleased that she would take the initiative to do it.”
William could see that the man had no idea what he was leading up to, so he simply continued. He didn’t want to drag it out.
“As she was putting your things back into the bag and trying to be careful with them, she found something,” he said. Then he held his hand out to Kieran, who put the missive in his hand. The entire time, Kieran had been holding it. William turned it over to War. “This was open when she picked it up. She saw my name.”
Without another word, he extended it to War, who was looking William straight in the eye when he took it. In fact, he didn’t even look at it. He simply took it and kept his gaze on William. Then, he finally glanced at it.
Something in his expression changed.
“I see,” he said after a moment. “Did you read it?”
“I did.”
War nodded, but it was only an acknowledgement that he understood the sequence of events. Beyond that, it didn’t mean anything. Missive in hand, he stood up.
“Then you know,” he said.
“I know.”
“Did you know before you read this?”
William shook his head. “Nay,” he said honestly. “As your mother said, she never told me. I never heard from her after her father told me to go away and leave her alone.”
War grunted. It was clear that the formal, polite manner was now wavering with the introduction of a very touchy subject. His jaw began to flex as he faced something he hadn’t wanted to face yet.
It was a most unexpected happening.
“And you did?” he said. “You simply went away and left the woman you loved, the woman you had bedded?”
William could feel the tension. He glanced at Kieran, who was watching the situation closely. In truth, he was glad Kieran was there as a witness. He didn’t want this to be a private conversation that could potentially turn ugly.
“War, I am going to be completely honest with you,” he said evenly. “I realize this is a difficult subject for you and I’m sure you think that I wronged your mother somehow but let me explain what happened before you judge me. You should have all of the facts if you are going to do that.”
War looked at him. “I am not judging you,” he said. “The truth is that I only found out about this when my father, or at least the man I knew as my father, confessed everything to me on his deathbed. Not only did I have to endure his death, but I had to endure being told that everything I’d believed in my entire life was a lie. If I become emotional about this it is because the man I knew and loved as my father is dead. That is bad enough. But oddly enough, my anger isn’t directed at you. It is directed at him. I haven’t had much time to think on this situation because so much has happened in the days since his death and, truth be told, I have avoided it all. But now that we are speaking of it,there is some anger. Anger at men who keep secrets that affect others.”
William understood that completely. “I know,” he said, not unsympathetic. “I can only imagine how you must have felt. I do not know why your mother did not tell you sooner, but I am sure she had her reasons.”
“What reasons?” War said, his jaw ticking. Then, he shook his head and turned away. “I am coming to wish my father hadn’t told me at all.”
There was hurt in his voice. Such hurt. William couldn’t help but feel a good deal of sympathy for him.
“Did he give his reasons for telling you?” he asked softly.
