“But how did you get there?”
“When I was in France,” he said. “The lord I was serving had a brother or cousin in the Kingdom of Italy, so we traveled there because he was having trouble with a neighbor. The nights were warm, the days were warmer, and I have never eaten so much good food in my life. I enjoyed it.”
As he spoke, Ophelia nearly drained half of her cup, bewitched by his tale. “What did you eat?”
He thought on it. “Pork pies,” he said. “Sausages, veal tarts and the like. And they love eggs. Everything has eggs in it.”
“I love eggs, too,” she said, feeling her stomach rumble. Even though Greenie had given her food, she was still quite hungry. She thought of a way to get around her grandfather’s no-food policy. “And speaking of food, may I buy you a meal? I have a little money. It would be polite for me to offer to feed you.”
Ophelia was quite pleased with herself. How could her grandfather refuse to let her eat if she was providing food for her betrothed? He would look like an inhospitable cad if he voiced any opposition. But Creston immediately called to the nearest servant.
“Forgive me,” he said to Ophelia as he waved the wench over to their table. “I should have offered you a meal the moment we sat down. That was very impolite of me.”
That wasn’t what Ophelia had expected, but the end was just the same. A servant came over and Creston ordered a meal for them both, agrandmeal, as he told the wench, and she went scurrying off to the kitchens. When the woman left, Creston looked at Ophelia.
“I should have asked you if you were hungry,” he said, genuinely contrite. “I hope you are not too uncomfortable.”
“Nay,” she said. “I will eat if you wish to eat. But you needn’t go out of your way just to accommodate me.”
“It is not going out of my way to offer a lady a meal,” he said. “It is my pleasure to do so.”
Ophelia wasn’t used to someone being so nice to her. In fact, everything Greenie had said about Creston de Royans was, so far, coming true right before her eyes. Hewaskind. Hewasconsiderate. He didn’t even know her, yet he was concerned for her.
God… was there really a world where such men existed?
“Did you order food?”
The earl was suddenly standing next to their table, asking the question, and Creston stood up to face him.
“I did, my lord,” he said. “I was very rude and neglected to offer the lady a meal after her long journey. Forgive me for my oversight.”
De Bulverton frowned. “She does not need to eat,” he said. “If there is no further conversation between you two, I will send her to rest. You and I have much to discuss, de Royans.”
It was a rather rude demand when Creston was only being kind. Furthermore, it was clear that Creston wasn’t pleased by the man’s response. “We may have our discussion after the lady and I finish our meal,” he said steadily. “There is no hurry.”
De Bulverton did what he probably shouldn’t have done. With Creston unwilling to bend to his will, he went to Ophelia and very nearly yanked her out of her chair. “She does not need to eat,” he repeated, looking at her when he spoke. “Return to your chamber, Ophelia. I will send for you when I want you.”
“Hold,” Creston said in a deep, deadly tone. “Remove your hand from her arm.”
De Bulverton looked at him, startled, and removed his hand simply because the tone coming from Creston was a command. He knew a command when he heard one. But he didn’t like being questioned, and that had his dander up.
“I may do as I please with my granddaughter, Sir Creston,” he said. “She will return to her chamber now. You’ve spoken with her enough.”
There was tension in the air now, prickly and uncomfortable. Creston was coming not to like de Bulverton because of the man’s bullying attitude and, even if hewasan earl, Creston was not afraid of him. Not even slightly. He held the size and weight advantage by a mile. In response, he lifted an eyebrow.
“Has the betrothal contract that was offered been signed?” he asked.
De Bulverton was trying to figure out why Creston asked the question. “Why?” he said. “If it is not, do you think to break it?”
“Answer my question, my lord.”
“I will not.”
“It is valid,” Royston said. He didn’t like what he was seeing between his brother and de Bulverton and hoped to stave off any confrontation. “When Lord Sidbury made the offer, it came signed. That is legally binding. You cannot break the betrothal, Creston.”
There wasn’t much room to move, so Creston shifted the table back. It was a very heavy piece of furniture, but he moved it like it meant nothing. That cleared a path between himand Ophelia, who was watching the situation with concern. He reached out and took her gently by the arm, pulling her to sit down in the chair her grandfather had yanked her out of.
“I do not intend to break anything,” he said, effectively putting himself between Ophelia and her grandfather. “If the offer is signed, and I have accepted, then by law and by God, she is already my wife. She belongs to me. And you will never again touch my wife in the manner I just saw. Is that clear?”
