“This is indeed a night of joy,” he was saying. “For not only do I have the pleasure of announcing one betrothal, I have the pleasure of announcing two.”
For some reason, fear as sharp as the strike of an arrow blazed through Avalyn. She looked at young Anne, who gazed back at her with equal fright. Both girls realized something was up and suspected that one of them was somehow involved.Avalyn took her cousin’s hand, already clammy in her grasp, and held it tightly. Uncle Richard was a deal maker, a king maker, and a surprise of this magnitude was not an unusual thing. Avalyn held on to Anne mostly so she wouldn’t bolt from the room when her father made the announcement she suspected was to come. Poor Anne! Tension exploded in her chest as her uncle focused on his family of women.
“I am pleased; nay, very pleased, to announce the betrothal of Sir Charles Aubrey,” Richard focused on Avalyn, “to my niece and trusted advisor, the Lady Avalyn Arabella de Beauchamp du Brant.”
At first, Avalyn did not quite grasp what he had said. It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, her eyes widened to the point of bulging from her skull. She could hear young Anne beside her, muttering words of comfort, but she did not heed him. She simply could not believe what she had heard. Over the roar of applause, Uncle Richard was holding out a hand to her, encouraging her to come to him, but she simply sat there until young Anne gave her a timid shove.
Woodenly, she stood up and took a few steps towards her uncle. Her head was swimming and she felt betrayed, belittled, castigated. A hand reached out to grasp her; looking down, she saw that it was her aunt. The brown eyes were surprisingly hard.
“Had you not disobeyed us today, we would not have had to take such drastic measures,” came Anne’s soft, even tone. “You have brought this on yourself, Avalyn. Now you will heed your husband where you have failed to heed us. He will guide you properly.”
Avalyn stared at her aunt. Damn them! No wonder they hadn’t said a word to her all afternoon. They had already passed judgment and sentence. Now she was to be married off, corralled by a husband, watched over by a master. Her knees began to shake and it was an effort not to respond to her aunt, an angryresponse that would have only shamed the family. She was, after all, a de Neville. She had been raised in the finest house with the finest resources available. She was a loyal family member and a trusted member of the inner core. One act of disobedience, no matter how innocent and small, had earned her a drastic punishment. She simply could not believe it.
Somehow, she made it to her uncle. She did not even remember how she got there. He took her hand, kissed it, and turned it over to the sweaty grip of her puffy betrothed. Aubrey stood up and faced her politely.
“My lady,” he said in a quiet, deep voice. “I realize this is something of a shock, but may I say that I am most pleased at the prospect. I promise I shall endeavor to make a very fine husband.”
She just stared at him. She couldn’t seem to manage anything else. Her gaze moved over him; he had reddish blond hair that flowed past his shoulders and he secured it at the nape of his neck in a ponytail. His face was round and very red, his eyes a clear shade of blue. He was neither handsome nor ugly, but somewhere in between. He was a big man, too, with an enormous belly and muscular arms and legs from what she could see. Truthfully, she’d never looked closely at the man; ever. She’d never even been this close to him. Now, the reality was staring her in the face and it was a struggle not to choke.
“My lord,” she managed to stammer.
He was trying to be very kind. He held out his chair to her. “Will you sit?”
Haltingly, she lowered herself into the chair. Someone had brought him another chair and he pulled it up next to her, yelling for more wine. Avalyn put up her hand; her head was spinning already. She did not need more wine.
“My lord,” she was laboring to find her tongue. “When… did you speak to my uncle about a marriage?”
Charles didn’t seem like a brute or a dullard; he seemed like a truly mild man. “Only today, my lady,” he said. “Your uncle proposed this match to me and, having seen you in the past, I must say that I was very pleased with the prospect of marrying into the House of de Neville. I will try to make a very fine husband.”
“You already said that,” she eyed him. Then she realized that she sounded cruel. It wasn’t his fault if her uncle had brokered her like another would broker a mare. “I am sorry, ’tis simply that this is something of a shock. I never heard a word about it.”
He looked at his hands. “I know,” he said. “Your uncle told me that it was a surprise. It would seem that your birthday is coming soon, and he felt it would be a proper birthday present. He said that you are getting too old to be without a husband.”
She digested that statement. So her uncle had told him nothing of her disobedience? Curious. But her uncle had certainly gotten the last word on the situation by betrothing her to a man she didn’t even know. Not an unusual happening, but she had hoped to at least marry someone of acquaintance. She took a long look at Charles, the man who would be her husband. His gaze was open and eager. It just made her ill.
“If you don’t mind, I will excuse myself for a moment,” she said, her voice tight.
He leapt up from his chair. “May I escort you, my lady?”
She shook her head. “I am just going outside. To…”
He put up his hands and his red cheeks flushed redder. “Of course,” he said. “I shall await your return.”
She rose from her chair and skirted the table, making sure to pass the on the opposite side from where her aunt and uncle were sitting. She had no desire to see them or speak with them. But she knew, even as she quit the room, that their eyes were following her. She could feel their suspicion. She just wantedto be alone and truthfully, at the moment, that was her only thought.
She went out the door she had come in, leading directly to the outside. The privy chamber was off to her left, buried in the structure near the Salt Tower. She really had no desire to go there; she simply wanted a breath of fresh air. The events of the last few moments had been too much for her to take in all at once and she needed to clear her head.
It was cold as she wandered into the night. She had left her cloak inside but made no move to go and retrieve it. To re-enter the hall would be to risk being cornered by her aunt or uncle, or even her betrothed. She needed to get away. As she crossed the courtyard towards the southeast corner of the White Tower, a voice came from the shadows.
“I thought you would never come out.”
Her heart leapt into her throat and she whirled in the direction of the voice. Emerging from the darkness under the turret of the White Tower was Brogan. Their gazes locked and he smiled at her surprise.
“God’s Teeth, you frightened me,” she managed to gasp. “How long have you been waiting?”
He shrugged casually. “Since before sunset.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “That long?”
