It still sounded cruel, but it couldn’t be helped. St. Denis stood up and put his cup aside, followed by Creston, who left his empty cup on a nearby table.
“Creston, I must say that I am very glad to hear you will inherit the Earldom of Sidbury,” he said. “Abelard will be glad, too. I assume you will be kinder to him than de Bulverton is?”
Creston smiled weakly. “He may have free rein over my port,” he said. “But there will be rules.”
“Such as?”
“No burning my town,” Creston said, his blue eyes twinkling dully. “No robbing people in the streets. No rampaging or pillaging. I have standards. Not many, but some.”
St. Denis started laughing. “We must maintain some dignity, I suppose,” he said. “What of Santiago? He keeps his ships in Fremington, you know. He will be thrilled if Sidmouth becomes a friendly port.”
He was referring to Santiago de Fernandez, leader of an Aragon pirate faction called Demons of the Sea. He also happened to be a cousin to another Blackchurch trainer through marriage, Sinclair de Reyne. Sinclair and Santiago had had some wild adventures in the past, and Santiago considered himself astrong ally of Blackchurch and Triton’s Hellions. At least, he had last month.
There was no telling how he felt this month.
Creston snorted at St. Denis’ statement.
“I would not dare refuse Santiago,” he said. “He’s been very good to Sin, you know. Since the man is a cousin to Sin’s wife, of course, he’s family. He can use the port with my compliments.”
St. Denis clapped Creston on the shoulder as they headed for the solar door. “You are already making two pirate factions very happy,” he said. “You see? This may not be as terrible as you think, after all.”
Creston paused at the door, his smile fading. “But I still must marry in order to inherit.”
“That is true. You must.”
Creston just shook his head and departed the chamber, leaving St. Denis to watch him go. The Blackchurch trainers, and commanders, were such a tightly knit group that St. Denis knew, before the evening was out, that every trainer would know of Creston’s dilemma. That was how the group operated. One man’s problem was every man’s problem. St. Denis was fairly certain this wasn’t the last he was going to hear of this.
Itwasa good opportunity for Creston. He believed that.
He only hoped Creston did.
CHAPTER THREE
Outside of Exebridge, Devon
She very muchwished her grandfather hadn’t decided to come.
He always made a situation so much more difficult when he was present. His manner was brusque and demanding, and she knew he’d only come to ensure everything was done to his liking and specifications.
That this marriage happened the way he wanted it to happen.
Living with the man over the past two months had been hell.
He never let her forget about the child in her belly and how she was a whore for conceiving a child with a man she was intended to marry. The man hadn’t been in her life for years, instead living in the port city of Sidmouth and managing it like his own personal kingdom, because Ophelia and her mother had been living with Ophelia’s father, a frail man who had died right before Ophelia’s betrothal. He’d had a hand in it, mostly because Ophelia wanted to marry Cecil and her father permitted it. She’d been grateful.
But Oscar de Bulverton had taken charge.
They’d been living with him at Axen Castle, seat of the Earl of Sidbury, and essentially been living like prisoners. More thanthat, in order to keep the child in her belly from growing too large, Oscar had restricted his granddaughter’s food to the point where she had lost weight. Servants, and even her own mother, would sneak her food, but Oscar needed her to appear un-pregnant until she married.
After that, she would be her husband’s problem.
But he had to get her married.
The result of the restricted food was that Ophelia didn’t feel well. All day, every day. She was pale and thin, which pleased her grandfather. Randa hated seeing her daughter looking so unwell, but she could not go against her father. He had control now that her husband was dead, so she had no choice but to obey him. As she sat next to her daughter in the iron carriage that had brought them from Sidmouth to north Devon, she had the same wish that her father had, marrying her daughter off quickly—because, surely, her new husband would not try to starve her simply for appearances’ sake.
It was a horrific situation.
“Here,” Randa whispered, making sure that her father was out of range. “I brought you something. You’ll need your strength when you meet your betrothed.”
