The men guarded her as they followed where Warrick had gone. Rosamund studied her surroundings, recognising many of the people as she entered her childhood home. She had once loved this estate, especially the climbing roses her mother had planted in the garden.
She wondered if her parents would accept Warrick as her new husband, especially after all that had happened. Though she wanted to see her mother, she didn’t care if she ever set eyes on her father. The hatred she’d kept in her heart still burned brightly. She could never forgive him for manipulating her and harming the man she loved.
But Harold de Beaufort stood at the top of the stairs, his expression neutral. He wore a burgundy silk tunic, trimmed with squirrel fur. There were no words of welcome to her, nor did he smile. She kept her own face calm, betraying none of her thoughts.
Bennett held her horse and helped her to dismount. She went to stand beside her husband and didn’t miss the distaste on her father’s face.
‘I heard that Alan de Courcy is dead,’ Harold said to her. ‘And now I learn that you married this man hardly more than a day later.’
‘I wedded Rosamund at Alan’s command,’ Warrick responded. ‘He feared for her safety and demanded it of me, upon his death.’
‘So you say.’ His gaze flickered over them. ‘What do you want of me?’
‘Rosamund is carrying Alan’s heir, and if she bears a son, he will inherit Pevensham. But we have reason to believe that Owen ordered his brother’s death. Rosamund could not remain at Pevensham, or he would threaten her unborn child.’
The lies flowed easily from him, but Rosamund could not deny the possibility of another pregnancy. It had happened once before with Warrick. Alan had done all that he could to protect her, but she understood that it might not be enough.
Her father’s expression remained cold. ‘Now that you have married her, others will believe that any child she bears is yours.’ His unspoken message was that he believed it, too.
‘Alan had already spoken of it to other witnesses. Even his own brother and the family priest knew,’ Warrick responded. ‘For now, Rosamund needs a safe place to stay until her child is born.’
‘And what of your own property? Have you no place to provide for a wife?’
Her father’s remark was a deliberate weapon aimed at Warrick’s pride. She saw the flicker of unrest in her husband’s eyes before he answered, ‘My father’s lands are farther away, and I intend to confront Owen over his brother’s death. I need someone to protect Rosamund while I am gone. Your lands were closer.’
Though she had known he intended to leave, a sudden icy portent of sadness washed over her. She had the terrible fear that something would happen to Warrick, leaving her a widow once more. And she did not want him to go—not until she had soothed his anger and he had forgiven her.
‘May we come inside, Father?’ she asked.
Harold moved sideways, gesturing for them to join him. She could not tell what he thought of their circumstances, for he hid his thoughts, as always.
When she drew nearer, she saw that his hair was rimmed with silver, his beard tinged with grey. His eyes held wariness, which was not surprising. She had brought danger among them, for she had no doubt Owen would try to pursue them.
He led them both inside and gave orders for bread and ale. ‘You have not eaten, I suppose?’
‘No. Only travelling food, earlier this morning,’ Rosamund answered. ‘I would be grateful for a hot meal.’
She walked through the Great Hall, searching for a glimpse of her mother, but there was no sign of Agnes. Instead, she spied her sister standing near the far end. Cecilia’s eyes widened, but she stepped forward to greet them with her hands outstretched. ‘Rosamund. I never thought to see you here again.’
‘I didn’t expect to be here myself.’
Her sister’s gaze drifted to Warrick with a questioning look. Rosamund introduced him as her new husband. Though Cecilia greeted him with politeness, there was a strained tone in her voice.
When there was still no sign of Agnes, Rosamund asked, ‘Where is Mother?’ She had not seen her in such a long time. Although she was prepared to receive a lecture on the hasty wedding, she had missed her overbearing presence. Beneath her mother’s criticism lay a woman who truly did care about her.
Cecilia spared a stricken look at their father and then admitted, ‘She died last winter.’
Rosamund’s heart sank at the news, followed by a rush of anger. ‘And no one thought to send word?’ Although Agnes had been a chiding mother who had always found fault with every little thing, Rosamund would have come to her funeral Mass. ‘You should have told me.’
‘Father forbade it,’ Cecilia answered. Then she squeezed her hand and leaned forward. ‘We will speak of this later.’
It seemed that her father had not changed at all. Rosamund realised that if she remained here, he would, no doubt, find a reason to imprison her in her rooms. Or prevent her from seeing Warrick again.
She didn’t know how to manage the tangle of emotions within her. But she knew better than to lash out at her father. He would only lash back at her. Better to be subtle and calm, using her own invisible weapons.
She joined her father at the high table with Warrick at her side. Harold barely acknowledged her husband, and Rosamund decided to confront him. ‘I wish you had told me of Mother’s death.’
‘Why would you care?’ he retorted. ‘You never bothered to visit since your marriage. In three years, we heard nothing from you.’
