“You just said the schools sit empty, which I find outrageous, loving to teach as I do. Never mind. What happened to your grandmother?”
“Are you sure you want to hear this? It does not have a happy outcome.”
It must have been happy at some point, she thought, if he was a quarter English. “Yes.”
“My grandmother knew her mother wouldn’t allow her to marry the young Lubinian man, so they married in secret before telling her. And my great-grandmother wasn’t just furious, she refused to recognize the marriage because my grandmother wasn’t of age yet. Her betrothed was a powerful earl, a match arranged by her father before he died. My great-grandmother took her straight home to England and forced her to wed the earl.”
“Without getting a divorce for her daughter first?”
“Why would she do that when she didn’t consider the first marriage valid?”
Alana rolled her eyes. “Your grandmother still wasn’t of age yet, was she?”
He shrugged. “Some consider a betrothal as binding as a marriage. My great-grandmother certainly did.”
“And then?”
“My grandmother didn’t know she was already with child. Her second husband knew she was not a virgin when she came to him. Still, he would have kept her—she was beautiful. But the child began to show too soon for it to be his. He kicked her out and did divorce her. My grandmother was disgraced. Her mother would have never forgiven her if she hadn’t become so attached to her granddaughter, my mother, after she was born.”
“Did your grandmother’s Lubinian husband ever try to find her?”
“Oh, he tried. He loved her and his family recognized the marriage. They considered Grandmother a runaway wife and insisted he bring her home. But, sadly, he never found her because her mother had changed their name and moved them to the country to escape the scandal.”
Alana wished she’d stopped him when he’d warned her there was no happy ending. “They were never reunited, were they?”
“No. My grandmother tried to find him after her mother passed on eight years later, but she was too late. He had died the year before. She stayed with his family for a while so they could get to know his daughter, but later that year she returned to London. But every summer thereafter she faithfully brought my mother back to visit her relatives here. On one of those visits, when she was sixteen, my mother met my father. That at least ended happily.”
“So your mother actually grew up in England?”
“Yes.”
“Then would you mind telling me how you ended up with such atrocious manners? A woman who grew up in England would have taught you better.”
He grinned at her. “But she did. When I am with the king, I exhibit the manners he expects in his nobles. When I am with my men, I use the manners they expect. When I’m with a woman—”
“That’s far enough.”
He raised a brow. “So your opinion of this country still hasn’t improved, eh?”
“Nor is it likely to. I was raised in the most civilized country in the world, just as your mother was.”
“Then maybe you should ask my mother why she loves this country so much. Do you even know how Lubinia came into existence? Goatherds settled here, prospered, their families grew with each generation, and finally a natural leader emerged, Gregory Tavoris, and with the people’s support he became the first Lubinian king. But we are all free men. Never have there been serfs here who grovel to a lord, who are no better than slaves—as your country had.”
She blushed furiously, but would have pointed out that comparing today’s Lubinia with England’s past didn’t really support his point that Lubinia was superior to England. But the bullet flying past her ear sent her diving to the floor instead.
Chapter Thirty-Four
ALANA CROUCHED AS LOW as she could get on the floor of the sleigh. Not an ideal place to hide, but at least the back of the sleigh was high enough to provide cover. Unfortunately, the sides weren’t, as they were barely half a foot high. But she realized the shots were coming from behind them when Christoph grabbed his rifle from the floor next to her and shot back in that direction.
Her heart was already pounding, but when she noticed Christoph was too busy returning fire to take cover himself, she was terrified. Kneeling on the backseat of the vehicle, he was exposing half his chest and his head, and his chest made a broad target!
“Get down between shots!” she yelled at him.
He glanced down at her, frowned at what he saw, then said as he crouched a little lower on the seat, “They’re cowards, already falling back.”
Was her fear that obvious to him? But his remark and the cover he was taking now did relieve her—until she heard the crack of another shot fired, and not from Christoph’s rifle. He swore in annoyance and aimed to his right. “They’re playing crafty, taking cover in the trees.”
“They can play crafty all they like as long as they continue to be lousy shots,” she replied.
