Little Isabel de Lohr had quite a life ahead of her.
A great legacy for the woman she’d been named for, indeed.
EPILOGUE
Year of Our Lord 1268
Axminster Castle
Douglas’ eldest daughterwas in a flood of tears.
“They are arriving and no one is ready to greet them,” she sobbed. “Papa, they will think that Marcus is marrying into a family of animals.”
Douglas was trying very hard not to smile at his dramatic daughter. Isabel was to be married on the morrow, to the heir to the d’Vant Cornwall empire and, much like her mother, she simply wanted everything to be perfect. Unfortunately, with nine siblings, things could be far from perfect.
A bit chaotic, actually.
“Your mother has everyone moving for the hall, sweetheart,” he said steadily. “Your sisters will ensure the younger ones’ good behavior. You needn’t worry.”
That didn’t ease Isabel’s tears. “What about Atlas?”
“What about him?”
Isabel began to weep anew. “Papa, hethrowsthings,” she said. “He throws food, his own waste—everything. I do not want him in the hall. He will embarrass me!”
Douglas couldn’t help the laughter then. He chuckled, kissing her forehead as he tried to comfort her. “He is only three years of age,” he said. “Sometimes children are a bit wild at that age. You are the eldest of ten children, Izzy. How can you not know this?”
Isabel did, and that was perhaps why she was so upset. Her sisters weren’t so bad—all six of them—but the three boys were what her father termed as “lively.”
Wild was more like it.
Nicholas, the eldest son at fourteen years of age, seemed to have outgrown his wild streak, because he’d been fostering for a few years and the master knights of Kenilworth wouldn’t tolerate it. Dallas was the next son, at eight years of age, and he, too, fostered at Kenilworth, but he hadn’t quite outgrown playing jokes on his sisters or stealing coin from his father. Atlas, the baby at three years of age, was the one Isabel was worried about. A feces-throwing, food-spitting abomination.
“Please, Papa,” she said. “Not Atlas. Please don’t allow him in the hall.”
Douglas took pity on her. “He’s too young for something like this, so do not worry,” he said. “He’ll stay in the nursery.”
That seemed to ease her mind a great deal. They were standing in the foyer of Axminster, dressed in their finest, and as Douglas helped her wipe the last of her tears, the troops started to arrive.
De Lohr siblings, to be exact.
Aurelia, Matilda, and Beatrice were the first down the stairs. They were young women now, looking a good deal like their mother and their paternal grandmother with their blond hair and fine features. They were well bred, well mannered, and very excited about Isabel’s wedding because a wedding meant young men in attendance. They were hoping to meet some. That particular hope was giving Douglas palpitations because allthree girls—at nineteen years, eighteen years, and sixteen years of age—were considered marriage prospects. Carrying the de Lohr name made them more appealing than most.
He wasn’t ready for that.
As the girls clustered around Isabel in the entry, smoothing her dress and making sure her hair was perfect, Douglas stood out of the way, turning his attention toward the stairs as two of his three sons descended. Nicholas, a tall and well-built young man, was the first one down, followed by Dallas, who looked very much like his grandfather. Nicholas was the one dark-haired sibling of the group, taking after his paternal great-grandmother, who sported nearly black hair. He had inherited that trait along with his grandmother’s gray eyes, which gave him a strikingly handsome appearance.
Both boys flew past Douglas on their way to the entry door.
“We are going to the gatehouse, Father!” Nicholas said, opening the door for Dallas to rush through. “We will meet the incoming party!”
They were gone, the door banging back on its hinges. Douglas went to the door and called after them.
“They are being admitted by Lucius!” he said, referring to a knight who had joined him a few years ago after Jonathan returned to Wolverhampton. “Try not to knock anyone over in your haste!Slow down!”
His plea fell on deaf ears. The boys continued to bolt and Douglas shook his head at their enthusiasm. But he also caught sight of someone he recognized coming through the inner gatehouse and quickly shut the door.
“Iz,” he said to his eldest. “Marcus is approaching.”
