Her uncle Edmund now spoke up. “Aye. Even I am reduced to feeling sorry for my half-brother. That second wife of his was a wicked bitch. I never thought to see Henry Bolton brought so low, but he has been. Tom will see him well fed, well cared for, and well housed as long as he lives. The monies he is paying for Otterly have been put with a goldsmith in Carlisle. They cannot be touched. When my half-brother is rested once again in his mind and body he will make a will. You would not recognize him, Rosamund. He is as thin as a rail now.”
“Uncle Henry? He who was always so plump and dyspeptic? I am indeed surprised,” Rosamund replied.
“That fat face he once had is now as narrow as a hermit monk’s,” Maybel chimed in. “But the eyes staring out at you would give you a fright. They are both hopeless and empty of emotion at the same time. I think him no less dangerous for all his bad luck.”
“Wife, have mercy,” Edmund said.
“Fat or thin, he’s a bad one,” Maybel responded firmly. “I’ll not be unhappy to see Lord Tom back and in charge of Otterly. He says it is for Banon.”
“I know,” Rosamund said.
“Lord Leslie’s mission, then, did fail,” Father Mata said quietly.
“Aye,” Patrick answered him. “We remained in San Lorenzo the rest of the winter, for we were thought to be lovers briefly escaping from the obligations of our lives. Finally, on April first we began our return home, stopping first in Paris to reassure King Louis of King James’ fidelity.”
“It is unfortunate you were not successful, for peace is better than what will now come,” the priest said.
“Are you aware,” Maybel asked, “that Logan Hepburn has a wife?”
“I am,” Rosamund replied. “I was at his wedding to Mistress Jean, and we stopped last night at Claven’s Carn.”
“I wonder that you would not have him,” Edmund said slowly, and then seeing the look in his niece’s eye, he stopped.
“Where is Glenkirk?” Father Mata inquired politely of the earl.
“In the northeast Highlands. I am long a widower with a grown son and grandchildren,” Patrick answered him, offering the information he knew all of those who loved Rosamund sought from him.
“Patrick will remain with us as my guest for a time,” Rosamund told them.
“They’re lovers,” Maybel said afterwards to her husband, Edmund. “I never thought that my lass would be such a woman.”
“Leave her be, Maybel,” Edmund said quietly. “She is really in love for the first time in her life, and she is content. Can you not see it? Does she not deserve some happiness? We have been with her since her birth. We know what she has suffered and what she has endured. Rosamund has always done her duty by Friarsgate. She is entitled to some personal happiness. She is no longer a child.”
“She should marry again,” Maybel said stubbornly.
“Mayhap she will one day,” her spouse replied. “And mayhap not.”
“You thought Logan Hepburn would be a suitable mate for her,” Maybel persisted.
“I did, but Rosamund did not,” came the answer.
“But he loved her!” Maybel said.
“But he made the mistake of not telling her that the depth of his passion was for her and her alone. He could not keep silent about his need for a son. Rosamund did not like the idea she was being pursued because she was proved fecund, Maybel. I like this Earl of Glenkirk she has brought home.”
“He could be her father,” Maybel said, outraged.
“I doubt the depth of his feelings are particularly parental where my niece is concerned,” Edmund chuckled.
His wife swatted irritably at him. “He’ll not wed her. He has no need for a wife.”
“And Rosamund has no need for a husband,” Edmund reminded his mate.
“But to flaunt her lover before her daughters,” Maybel fussed.
“I am certain they will be discreet,” Edmund assured her.
“Banon and Bessie are not apt to see or understand it, but Philippa is eight now, and she has a sharp eye,” Maybel said.
