“Margarethe is fifteen years and Rosalind is seventeen years.”
She cocked her head. “Were you very young when they were born? You do not seem old enough to have grown daughters.”
The corner of his lip twitched. “Their mother and I were married very young,” he said. “In fact, I was twenty-one years of age. She was fourteen. I had been an earl since my father passed away when I was nine years of age so I was already well established and she was from royalty.”
“You were only an earl when you married her?”
He nodded. “I was not granted the Dukedom of Exeter until King Edward bestowed it upon me ten years ago after the Battle of Crècy. It was my reward for serving his son, and England, flawlessly.”
“I see,” she said, very interested. “Now, back to your marriage. You said you married very young.”
He nodded, back on the original subject. “We did,” he replied. “It was an excellent contract but for the fact that we discovered shortly after our marriage that we hated each other. Rosalind, born a short time after we were wed, was supposed to be a boy, or at least I prayed for one so that my duty as a husband would be done, but when she turned out to be female, my wife and I agreed to one more pregnancy in the hopes of having a male child but she failed at that, too. The girls were still infants when she took them back to one of my properties in France, and I have only seen them twice since. They cannot stomach the sight of me.”
She was listening to him with a heavy heart. “I am sorry for you,” she said sincerely. “I cannot understand daughters that would not love their father because I love my father a great deal.I also do not understand a wife who would not at least be fond of her husband because my mother and father are very fond of one another. I hope that when I marry I am madly in love with my husband.”
He turned to look at her, grinning. “Love, is it?” he said. “You are optimistic.”
She nodded firmly and nearly toppled again. “I will only marry for love.”
“What does Deston have to say about that?”
“He does not know.”
“You should probably tell him before he betroths you to someone you cannot stand.”
She shrugged, averting her gaze and noticing the big copper pot a few feet away. She wandered over to it and stuck her hand into the still very-warm water.
“I am sure that will not happen any time soon,” she said.
“Why?”
She went over to the bed where she had tossed her satchel and began to pull it open. “Because he knows I must approve of any betrothal and so far, I have not approved of a single fool who has come to our door.”
“Not one?”
“Not one.”
“Then you set a high standard.”
She shrugged as she open the satchel wide and began to pull forth her toiletries; a bar of soap that was made with precious oils and smelled heavily of lavender, a frayed reed and tooth cleanser that was made with mint and cloves, and a big hair comb.
“I will not be saddled with someone I do not like or do not approve of,” she said simply, then sneezed a few times in rapid succession. “It is not foolish to want to be happy.”
Brandt turned to look at her. “Nay, it is not,” he agreed quietly. “I wish you good fortune in your search.”
Pensive, drunk and sniffling, Ellowyn made her way back over to the copper pot. She set the stuff down on the bed next to the pot and looked at Brandt seriously, as if her muddled mind was in the midst of concocting something. Then she pointed at him.
“You will remove your wet clothing and put it before the fire,” she said, sounding as if she was once again commanding him. “Then you will sit in this chair with your back to me while I bathe. I will not look at you if you will not look at me and, being a knight and a duke, I will trust your word when you swear you will not watch me bathe. Are we clear?”
He was back to fighting off a grin. “My lady, I am….”
“Wynny!”
He corrected himself. “Wynny, I am not entirely certain that is wise,” he tried to make it simple so her alcohol-soaked brain could understand. “Do you realize what you are saying? You are telling me to take my clothes off, and you will take your clothes off, and the only thing keeping propriety as our cloak and shield is a promise we will not look at each other. Does that sound fitting to you?”
She blinked, thinking hard on his words. “Aye,” she said, looking up at him as if confused by his statement. “I will trust you if you tell me you will not look.”
Brandt had never before seen such naked, complete and utter trust. It was in her eyes, her expression, everything about her, and he didn’t find her drunken state so funny anymore. He’d had the faith of many people over his life, mostly out of fear and out of respect for his skills as a man and as a warrior, but never had he seen it so trusting and blatant as he did at this very moment in that lovely little face. She was trusting him as a man, not as a warrior or a duke. To refute her would be to insult her. He didn’twant to do that. More than that, she was determined to take a bath and in her condition, he was coming to think it would not be wise to leave her alone. She could hit her head, pass out, or worse. He didn’t want that to happen.
