“I did.”
“God’s Mercy, he will never forgive you! What have I done?”
“He has already forgiven me,” Rolfe said a little less severely. “He is not an insensitive man. He allowed my behavior was understandable. He even toldme of your conversation with him, to help me understand your behavior. I was furious, knowing you could tell Henry why you will not accept me, but you could not tell me.”
There was a silence, and then he said, “Now I find it was not even the truth, what you told Henry.”
“Itwasthe truth.”
“Was it? You swore last evening that you do not care.”
Leonie opened her mouth, then thought better of speaking. They had been through this and gotten nowhere. He had made his position clear. He would not give up Amelia. She would not ask him again.
Rolfe sighed. “Do not drug me again, Leonie. And never run from me again either.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He said no more.
Chapter 37
HARVESTING had begun on the Crewel manor lands, that portion of the lands devoted to the lord’s use. But Crewel lacked a bailiff to oversee the villagers’ work, and although Leonie was able to do the overseeing, she recalled the animosity of the villagers to her and decided not to try. She did appoint an acting bailiff, however, the village headman. It was an unheard of choice, but a logical one, for the serfs would listen to him.
She had made the decision on her own, because Rolfe was away. He had been gone for all of the two weeks since their return from London.
His absence was only one of the difficult things Leonie had suffered since the night Guy of Brent received his twenty lashes. Rolfe left directly after the punishment for the siege at Warling, and hadn’t returned since.
Warling Keep was nearly fifteen miles north of Crewel, a long distance. She understood that he couldn’t come home, but she missed him. She caught herself listening for the sound of horses approaching, and even considered riding to Warling herself, but she knew Rolfe wouldn’t approve.
Missing Rolfe was not the only unhappiness in her life, either. There was the endless presence of Lady Amelia.
One evening, at dinner, Sir Evarard was called away from the table, which left the two women with only his empty chair between them.
Although Leonie had every intention of being civil to Amelia, it was not easy. The other woman positively radiated smugness. Leonie was perplexed by this. What could be the reason for Amelia’s attitude?
That night at dinner, when Sir Evarard was gone, Amelia asked Leonie for a potion to quell nausea.
“Should you not be in bed if you are ill?” Leonie asked her.
“Heavens no!” Amelia laughed. “There is nothing wrong with me that another month’s time won’t cure. I have this difficulty only at meals.”
Leonie grasped the meaning then. “You are insinuating something, Lady Amelia. What is it?” She meant there to be no mystery about this.
“Surely Rolfe told you!” Amelia seemed aghast. “It is hardly something that can be kept secret.”
“You are saying you will bear my husband a child?” Leonie said levelly.
“The babe is Rolfe’s, yes,” Amelia replied. “He does not deny it.”
So much fell into place in that moment. No wonder Rolfe refused to send Amelia away! It was almost a relief to understand this.
Leonie’s gaze moved down over Amelia’s figure, as pathetically thin as ever, and she said icily, “When did you conceive?”
“What difference—?”
“Answer me, Amelia!”
Amelia shrugged. “It has been a month.”
