“Girl!” Eudes barked out as he shoved her back down to her knees. “My lord,” he said, as he bowed. “I brought her as you commanded.”
“Eudes, help her to her feet and get out,” Lord Hugh said in a softer voice than she’d imagined he would use.
Barely a second passed before she found herself standing alone in the center of the chamber before her true father. She kept her gaze down, not daring to meet his. He circled her slowly, and she felt his intense stare as though he touched her, gliding over her body and face.
“Come.”
With nothing more than that, he walked from the chamber into the corridor and away. Her hesitation lasted a breath, and she followed him. No one else was present. The chambers they passed were empty, and the silence was interrupted only by the sounds of their feet moving along the stone floor. The chamber they entered was the last one before the stairway. Larger than the first one, this had a long table with many stools and chairs around it. But it was as empty as the first one until he clapped his hands.
All manner of servants came running with trays of food and cups and pitchers. They stood by the table waiting as he took a seat at the center, in the largest seat there.
“Have you broken your fast yet, Brienne?” he asked, pointing to the chair across from his. She shook her head. It mattered not, for he simply pointed and a servant came to her side. “Here. Sit. Join me.”
He nodded to the servants, and she found a cup of ale and a plate in front of her. When they offered him cheese or bread or cold meat, they offered it to her. When he held out his cup for more, they filled hers. It would have been a pleasant meal if her stomach had not threatened to expel every bite she took. And if she could force her heart to slow from the brutal pounding pace it kept up. And if the man sitting with her did not have the power to destroy her and everyone around them with simply a thought.
She tried to study him since she’d never been this close to him before, but he kept meeting her eyes, causing her to look away in fear. His hair was black now, the gray gone, and his eyes were the same color as hers. He took a breath as though ready to speak, when a commotion began outside the chamber.
Two women entered, and Brienne recognized both of them immediately. Standing quickly and backing away to the wall, she bowed low before the Lady Margaret, Lord Hugh’s wife, and Lady Adelaide, their daughter. Brienne dared not look at either one, for she knew not whether they knew her parentage. One did not remind a lady of her husband’s bastards.
“Margaret. Adelaide,” he said in a mild tone. “I am pleased you decided to join us to break your fast this morn. We have much to discuss.”
Brienne dared a glance at her father’s wife and her half-sister and was surprised that they did not object to her presence there. More shocking were Lord Hugh’s words.
“Come, Brienne. Take your place, and I will explain why I have sent for you.” She did so in slow, measured steps. Once seated again, she kept her head bowed and eyes lowered.
Who was this man? This was not the same dangerous lord who rode through the village and whom everyone feared. He spoke in a civil manner; he saw to her comfort and invited her to join his family at table. Something was very wrong here.
“I have been remiss, Brienne,” he said to her. She looked at him and found him watching her with a smile. “I have known about you for some time now, but have not done my fatherly duties toward you.”
“My lord?” she said, shaking her head. “I do not understand.” Speaking of such things had been forbidden for so long, it hurt her to even listen to him say it openly—and in front of his lady wife and daughter.
“You are my daughter,” he said boldly. “I want you to live here now. Lady Margaret and Adelaide will guide you in the womanly pursuits suitable for a daughter of mine.” A quick, furtive glance at the two women told her nothing, for they wore similar, empty expressions and said nothing.
“But, my lord, I . . .” She lost the words she wanted to say. How could she refuse him?
“I should have stepped in long ago, when you approached the end of your girlhood, but I was attending to other matters. Now, though, I think it time that we learn more about you and help you learn your place in the world.”
For so long, her place had been in the village, as the blacksmith’s daughter. Though she’d hoped and prayed for this exact thing for many years, now that he said the words, she found the words of acceptance stuck in her throat.
“I could not,” she stammered out finally. “I cannot . . .”
“I do not understand, Brienne. Surely Gavin and Fia made the truth known to you—I am your father and it is my duty to see to you. They understood that you were never theirs to keep.”
“It is a shock to her, my lord,” Lady Margaret said. “Such a change without warning.” She thought she heard sympathy and compassion in the lady’s voice, but one look at her eyes and Brienne knew neither was possible. “She will learn to accommodate herself to your will, my lord. As is her duty as your . . . daughter.”
“Why, my lord? Why now?” she asked, unnerved by the lady’s acquiescence in a matter like this.
A lady would never allow her husband’s bastards to be brought into her home, let alone be acknowledged and welcomed. They were a fact, unavoidable when most lords married for lands and titles and sought love and companionship from others. But to allow him to do this in front of her and their unmarried daughter was unthinkable.
From the time her parents admitted the truth to her, Brienne had been warned to stay out of the lady’s view. To avoid being identified as Lord Hugh’s get. Now he was insisting his wife accept her?
“Forgive my language,” Lord Hugh said. “But even bastards have their uses, Brienne. And I think you have much to offer to me and to our family.”
She cringed at his words, for her mother had warned her of exactly that—the ways of powerful men. He stood then and walked around to her.
“And there is much I can offer to you. A chamber of your own, servants, new garments—whatever you need or want shall be yours. Lessons to teach you to read mayhap?” he offered. “And you and Adelaide are of a marriageable age, so I can even arrange a suitable match for you. Many clamor to relate themselves to a man high in the king’s regard. You will not marry the miller’s son.”
Brienne glanced at Adelaide and read the disgust in her eyes, disgust that she could not hide as well as Lady Margaret.
