There was a good deal of unhappy judgment toward Cecil around that table. “Then he did not deserve you,” Gisele said. “Let God have a man who would be so cruel toward a woman. He has much penitence to do for shaming you so.”
Ophelia shrugged. “There is a part of me that blames myself,” she said. “He spoke of serving God and I knew he had wanted to be a priest before he met me. But I thought I could change him.”
Gisele shook her head. “Men like that are weak,” she said. “If he truly wished to serve God, he would have made that decision from the beginning and not given you false hope. You are not to blame.”
“I am assuming Creston knows?” Astria said. “If he does not, he will not hear it from us.”
Ophelia thought that was a honorable declaration coming from women she did not even know. She wasn’t exactly sure if she believed it, but she didn’t say so. Information like that was fodder for gossip. But she took Astria at her word.
For now.
“He knows,” she said. “I told him. I could not go into this marriage withholding a truth like that.”
“That was brave,” Athdara said. Then she eyed the other women at the table before continuing. “Speaking of brave, mayhap you would like to hear from the rest of us about our stories before marrying our husbands. I think you’ll find you’re in good company with adversity and difficult situations. I do not think there is one married Blackchurch trainer that has had an easy path to marriage.”
Ophelia nodded eagerly. “If you are willing to speak of it, I would like to hear.”
One by one, the women told her.
*
“Good,” St. Denismuttered to his son. “The wives have taken her under their wing. That will make this easier all the way around.”
St. Sebastian de Bottreaux was sitting next to his father, watching the women at the other end of the chamber. A tall andsinewy man, he was the manager of Blackchurch these days, as his father had retired to teach the many children of the trainers, something he loved doing. Sometimes it was more difficult than managing Blackchurch, as he’d told his son, but he preferred it. He was old and St. Sebastian was young, and keeping Blackchurch strong was a young man’s game.
St. Sebastian had run Blackchurch for the last several years, brilliantly.
“Y-you thought otherwise?” he said to his father, his slight stammer evident. “It is a decent group of women.”
“I know,” St. Denis said. “I did not mean it the way it sounded. It is simply that one never knows how a situation like this will go, adding a new person into our group. We have such a tight-knit family that one disruptive personality can cause… problems.”
St. Sebastian, or Sebo as he was sometimes called, found his gaze lingering on the women on the other side of the common room.
“It’s ironic,” he muttered.
St. Denis looked at him. “What is?”
St. Sebastian gestured toward the women. “I-I can remember in years past that whenever a trainer married, he surrendered his post,” he said. “I remember Grandfather forcing them to choose between marriage and life as a Blackchurch trainer. But you never did. Why not?”
St. Denis shrugged. “Because it did not seem right to do so,” he said. “My father had his reasons, and his father before him, but I would rather keep a seasoned, proven trainer than dismiss him simply because he married. Then I have to find a new trainer and start all over again. There is no logic in that.”
St. Sebastian agreed with him. “This is the fifth trainer that has married,” he said. “C-can you imagine losing Tay? Fox? Sin? And now Creston?”
“You left out Payne.”
“That is because he is a thorn in my side.”
St. Denis chuckled, knowing very well that his son and Payne were very good friends. “And mine,” he said. “But there is no one better at what he does. And no one better than Creston at what he does, so I am glad to see the women getting on. That means Creston will not want to leave because his wife is happy here.”
“He will not stay forever.”
The statement came from the man next to St. Denis, who happened to be Oscar. He’d been sitting silently since they’d entered the tavern, almost invisible to what was going on around them. When St. Denis and St. Sebastian turned to the man, he seemed to have an expression of distinct displeasure on his face.
He would be invisible no longer.
The Earl of Sidbury had managed to keep silent through the wedding mass, too, but that seemed to be changing. Though he’d been introduced to St. Denis, he’d hardly had a word for the man. Even seated next to him throughout the entire meal, he hadn’t spoken. He’d simply sat and drunk away the excellent wine St. Denis had provided. But now, he had something to say.
“Did you enjoy your meal, my lord?” St. Denis asked with forced politeness. “Is there anything else you require?”
