“Aye, I will be, but I do not wed him for his title,” Rosamund said.
“So you will desert Friarsgate,” Logan growled.
“Nay, I will not. Nor will Patrick desert his Glenkirk. We will spend part of the year in England and part of the year in Scotland. It is no different than others, even the king, with many estates. And my daughters will be with me.”
“I have bought Otterly from Henry Bolton,” Tom quickly interjected before the conversation took a dangerous turn. “I tore the old house down and am just now beginning to build a new one.”
“Which will be identical to his houses in London and Greenwich,” Rosamund said, and she laughed. “My cousin dislikes change or discommoding his servants. The same people serve him wherever he goes. They, however, have spent the winter in the south without their master.”
“They have been quite busy,” Tom defended himself.
“Doing what?” Jeannie asked.
“I have a passion for beautiful things,” Tom explained. “Consequently, I have too many possessions for two houses. I sent a list of what I wanted transported north to Otterly, and my servants have spent these last months collecting the items, cleaning them, and preparing them for their journey.”
“Ah, I see,” the lady of Claven’s Carn replied. Then a servant came to her side and murmured in her ear. “The meal is ready now,” their hostess said. “Let us to the high board. Lady Rosamund, please sit on my husband’s right. Lord Cambridge, you will sit on my right, and Mistress Philippa will be on my left.” She led them from their places before the fireplace to the great oaken table where the food was now being brought.
The meal was a simple but well-prepared one. There was trout sautéed in butter and served with watercress; a fat capon stuffed with bread, apples, and sage; half a ham; and a lovely game pie with a flaky crust. The bread was fresh and warm. There was cheese and butter. To drink they were served an excellent brown ale. And when the meal had been consumed, a tartlet of winter pears in a wine sauce was brought forth.
“You keep a fine table, lady,” Rosamund praised Jeannie.
The young woman smiled. “I was well taught. Logan does enjoy a good meal, as do his brothers.”
“I notice them missing,” Rosamund said softly.
“They are often late to table these nights,” the laird of Claven’s Carn said.
“Their wives are jealous that I have such a fine son, and even though they have bairns of their own, now that I am again with child, they seek to birth more bairns themselves,” Jeannie giggled. “They are also not pleased that I have taken over the management of my household. They were most lazy. They flout my authority when they can, but it is unforgivable they are not here to greet our guests, Logan.”
“The authority is yours, and they will eventually bow to it,” Rosamund said. “You have simply to hold your ground, lady.”
“My wife does not need advice from you,” the laird growled.
“Logan!” his wife cried, blushing for him. “The lady of Friarsgate but meant to support me with her advice, which is good advice, I might add. I tell you little of the rudeness and disrespect your brothers’ wives give me, but be assured that if it were possible for them to have their own homes, I should not be unhappy!”
“I did not realize, Jeannie,” he quickly excused himself. “I will correct the situation as soon as I may.”
“Nay, you did not know, for I do not complain. Now, ask the lady of Friarsgate’s pardon, my lord,” his wife instructed him.
“Nay! Nay!” Rosamund quickly spoke up. “I realized the laird meant no harm. He is but protective of his wife. I understand. My Patrick would be the same way.”
“Your pardon, madame,” he said nonetheless, and their eyes met.
Rosamund nodded. Then she leaned forward to say to the lady of the keep, “We must leave you early in the morning, madame. Might we be shown to our sleeping places now?”
Jeannie jumped up. “Of course, lady! Please follow me.”
“I think I shall remain in the hall a while longer,” Tom called after them.
“So,” Logan said, after the women were out of earshot, “she is going to marry her earl.”
“Aye,” Tom responded.
“Do you like him?” the laird asked.
“Aye, I do,” came the answer. “He loves her deeply. I have never before seen such passion between two people, Logan Hepburn. It is the right thing for both of them.”
“If you say it, my lord,” the laird replied gloomily. “I shall always love her.”
