“Nay, mama, I am just so tired. I needed to get here, find you, and now I feel better, but I am exhausted. I want to go to bed.”
“Then you shall,” her mother answered her soothingly. Standing, she helped Philippa into the bed and drew the coverlet over her. “Sleep well, my darling. You are safe home now. And your earl will be here soon, I am quite certain.”
Two days later the earl of Witton arrived at Friarsgate. Lord Cambridge had been summoned from Otterly the day of Philippa’s arrival, and Logan Hepburn had come over the border from Claven’s Carn. Rosamund had decided that she would need every bit of help her family could give her to bring Philippa and Crispin to an understanding. At her first sight of her son-in-law Rosamund knew she was going to like him. And she could also see he was perfect for Philippa.
“How did you know, you old dear?” she whispered to Thomas Bolton.
“It’s an instinct,” he murmured softly, and then he moved forward, his hands outstretched to greet the earl of Witton. “My dear boy, how delightful to see you once again. May I present your mother-in-law, the lady of Friarsgate. Cousin, this is Philippa’s husband.”
The earl took Rosamund’s hand, and bowing, kissed it. “Madame,” he said.
“You are most welcome to Friarsgate, my lord,” Rosamund told him.
“And Rosamund’s husband, Logan Hepburn, the laird of Claven’s Carn,” Lord Cambridge continued smoothly.
The two men eyed each other warily, and shook hands.
“Come into the hall,” Rosamund invited Crispin St. Claire, and she took his arm to lead him into the house.
“Where is my wife?” he asked her.
“In her chamber,” Rosamund said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Please don’t be too angry with her, my lord. She had a sudden urge to see her mother. Young wives can be like that. I sent her sister up to fetch her when we saw you coming.”
“I returned to Brierewode just two days after she had gone,” he said. “I forbade her to travel without me. Yet she deliberately disobeyed me.”
Rosamund shook her head. “You have not a great deal of experience with women, my lord, do you? You must never forbid a woman, for if you do, she is certain to do exactly what you told her not to do.” She laughed softly. “You love her very much, don’t you? Sit down. Sit down.”
“How is it that you can see that but your daughter cannot, madame?” he asked her despairingly. “And I question if she is even capable of love herself.”
“She loves you very much,” Rosamund told him quietly, and handed him a goblet of sweet red wine. “We have spoken more these past two days, Philippa and I, than we have in many years.”
“Then why will she not say it?” he asked her.
“Why will you not say it?” Rosamund countered, smiling.
“Why, madame, I am a man,” he replied with all seriousness.
“And she a courtier who has been taught never to admit to her emotions unless the gentleman in question does first,” Rosamund explained to him.
“God’s bloody wounds!” the earl swore.
“I could not say it better myself, my lord,” Rosamund told him.
“Mama.” Elizabeth Meredith was by her mother’s side. “Philippa says she will not come down. As usual she is being a mutton-headed little fool. My stepfather has gone to fetch her for you,” the young girl finished with a grin.
“Oh, Bessie, you bad thing!” Maybel, who had joined them, said laughing.
“What is it?” asked Lord Cambridge.
“Bessie sent Logan up to fetch Philippa down, for she will not come,” Rosamund told him.
“Oh lord!” Thomas Bolton said, but he was grinning.
A shriek pierced the hall, and then another, and another.
“It sounds like a murder is being committed,” the earl said.
“Nay, ’tis just Philippa’s stepfather bringing her down into the hall,” Rosamund said, still laughing.
