The Great Beauty of Dorset.
That was what Ophelia was referred to as. At Okehampton, they’d simply taken to calling her Beauty, something she detested, but it also gave her a lot of attention. Sometimes it was unwanted, but other times it was welcome, as it was with Cecil. Ophelia had started showing him some interest first and it wasn’t until his fellow knights encouraged him that Cecil responded. Ophelia couldn’t help but feel that he’d been pushed into it, something she’d vacated from her mind because it didn’t do her pride any good to imagine the man she was fond of had to be forced into reciprocation.
But he had.
Ophelia knew it.
As her mother, father, and Edward argued over whose fault it was that Cecil had run from marriage, Ophelia simply sat down in the nearest chair. Everyone at the church was arguing or hissing or getting excited about the situation, and she knew the rumors would start flying quickly until her grandfather boomed to the people in attendance that if word got out, he would personally punish every one of them. Those in attendance were friends and relatives, on both sides, and even Ophelia knew that something of this magnitude couldn’t be kept secret for long. Nor could the secret she carried in her belly.
The last-ditch effort to force Cecil de Bosque into matrimony.
That had been a folly.
“Come, Lia.” Her mother was suddenly by her side, grasping her by the arm and pulling her from the chair. “We are leaving.”
Ophelia did as she was told. She let her mother pull her out into the morning of a fresh new day, out to the waiting horses that were gaily bedecked with flowers. It was July, after all, and the land was awash with blooms. One of her mother’s men helped her onto her white palfrey, but before she could get away, Edward stopped her.
“My lady,” he said softly. “Truly, I am sorry for this. Cecil should not have done this to you.”
Ophelia had come to know Edward de Bosque as a truly kind man. She smiled weakly at him.
“You are not responsible for his actions,” she said. “But I must tell you that I am not surprised by any of this. He was destined for the church when I met him. I was but a slight delay.”
Edward sighed heavily. “He should have been honest with you from the start,” he said. “Cecil has wanted to be a priest his entire life. He should not have entered into an agreement with you, knowing that. I suppose I am to blame for pushing him into… Well, it does not matter. He has made his decision. We shall simply have to accept it.”
“Youcan accept it,” Oscar said, having just exited the church. “Know that this insult will not stand, de Bosque. I will make sure the priests at Glastonbury know what your son has done. Let us see, then, if they accept him into their commune. No one will want a man who breaks his promises.”
Edward knew he had no defense for his son. “Please,” he begged quietly. “Do not punish him for what were my actions. I forced this on him, I swear it. I will give you money as compensation for the loss. I have several fine horses I will give you also. But please… do not make trouble for my son. He is tortured as it is.”
Ophelia was off her horse, coming to Edward’s rescue by putting her hands on her grandfather’s arm, pulling him away. “He is right,” she said. “If anyone should be upset about this, it should be me, but I even I understand that Cecil loved the church before he ever loved me. You cannot fault a man for making a choice that is best suited for him.”
Oscar looked at her incredulously. “You defend him?”
“I understand him.”
“And you are not troubled by this situation?”
Ophelia tried not to let her emotions show, as was usual with her. Emotions only showed her weaknesses. “Of course I am,” she said. “I am very troubled by it. But I love Cecil enough that I want him to be happy. I thought I could make him happy, but it seems it is not to be. I tried. God knows, I tried. But even I cannot compete with a lifelong dream, Grandpapa.”
Oscar wasn’t the least bit moved by her speech. “So you simply intend to accept what he has done to you?”
“Is there a choice?” Ophelia said, rather strongly. “I cannot compete with the lure of the church and you cannot fight them, so we are at an end. Cecil has made his decision and it is not me.”
Oscar didn’t have an argument for that. Truth be told, he was angry at the humiliation, but not the act itself. He was actually quite relieved, but he wasn’t going to let on. Edward owed him something for this debacle and he was going to collect.
“Our family’s dishonor is worth something,” he said, looking to Cecil’s resigned father. “Lia’s dowry was to be eighty gold crowns. I want that from you to compensate us for this… this horror, and I will not go to the church and tell them what I think of a man who very much wants to be a priest. Do you understand?”
Edward did. He nodded wearily and turned away, heading back into the crowd of flabbergasted guests and trying to calm everyone down and convince them to return to his home, wherefood and drink would be waiting. He wanted to get away from Oscar as fast as he could lest the man come up with something more as a penalty for his son’s behavior.
But Oscar let him go. He was looking at his daughter, who was distraught over the entire situation, and he couldn’t hold back the anger.
“I told you not to agree to this,” he said again. “You let your daughter dictate her life, and do you see what it has cost you?”
Randa was verging on tears. “What do you want me to do?” she snapped quietly. “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing!” Oscar boomed, but quickly lowered his voice. “There is nothing for you to do or say, but I will tell you this—Lia’s future is now in my handsand I will handle it the way I want. You and your foolish daughter will have no say in my decision, so I suggest you prepare for what is coming.”
There was nothing Randa could say to that. She knew she was beaten. She’d let her daughter choose her own husband, something that was unheard of, and it had blown up in her face.
