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Aimee reached across to touch her sister’s cold hand. “She will likely be a bundle of nerves from now until three weeks hence.”

Ursula’s lips trembled. “Oh, don’t, Aimee!” she whispered, turning her face away from them.

Gerold’s brow crinkled. “I can scarcely understand you, daughter,” he said sounding aggrieved. “Is this Renlow not the young man who captured your fancy? I would have thought, if anything, your reactions would have been the other way around.” He shot a troubled look at Aimee. “No doubt you have determined a title will do for you and nothing else, but this Lord Kentigern is not the manner of man I would have chosen for you, my child.”

“Please, Father, I have already explained to you –”

Her father waved her protestations away. “Yes, yes, I know. He is a mighty champion, but if Ursula does not favor this young knight, then mayhap the two of you should exchange bridegrooms. Their respective ages would suit far better if you swapped and –”

“Father!” Aimee and Ursula exchanged startled glances, for both of them had burst out hotly at this.

Gerold Ankatel spread his hands wide. “I was only remarking that if Ursula is going to take this attitude, then she might as well be given a reason for it!”

Aimee’s chin came up. “I fail to see why Lord Kentigern’s bride should have any reason to repine.”

Her father looked as though he disagreed but kept his own counsel. “Well, well, if you are determined on this course, daughter,” he sighed resignedly. “Then there is nothing more for me to say.”

Aimee glanced across at Ursula, but her sister refused to meet her eyes and was gazing sightlessly ahead of her. She hoped Ursula wasn’t going to balk at the final fence. Three more weeks she would have to bolster her up for. Aimee almost sighed aloud. She could scarcely enjoy her own excitement when she was constantly having to soothe Ursula’s nerves.

After supper, when Aimee would have escaped upstairs to snatch an hour to herself, her father summoned her instead to his private study and, after shutting the door behind them, informed her he had that morning purchased Bartree Castle from the Crown.

“Bartree Castle?” she repeated.

“Lord Kentigern’s seat.” He drew a map across his desk and tapped a finger against it. “The estate lies here at the top left corner of Karadok.”

Aimee peered at the map and felt a strange lurch of her stomach to see how remote the spot looked and how far from Caer Lyoness. “Vettel,” Aimee read aloud, seeing the name of the biggest town thereabouts.

Her father nodded. “Apparently, his estate lies some eight miles from thence.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Her eye wandered to the town below. “Adarva,” she read aloud. “Now that does sound familiar. It is a place of some fame or repute?”

“You are thinking of the Battle of Adarva, my child,” her father told her ruefully. “There was fierce fighting there, and some do say it was the turning point in the war. Many northern standards fell there, and many noble lines were ended that day.” He paused heavily. “I believe it was at that place that your betrothed suffered his grievous wounds.”

With a shiver, Aimee cast about for something else to focus on. “Vettel lies on the coast,” she murmured. “It looks even closer to the sea than we are here at Caer Lyoness.”

Her father murmured in agreement. “Though you must not expect the summers there that we have here in the south,” he warned. “A cold, bitter place is the north.” He shivered. “We must hope that your husband prefers to spend most of his days at the fine town residence I have bought you instead.”

Aimee looked up quickly. “Father, you have not bought us a house here in town as well?” she asked with a gasp.

He nodded, his eyes twinkling. “The townhouse will be your wedding present, daughter. Bartree Castle is –” he broke off with a wince. “More of a condition to the marriage taking place. From what my agents tell me, it is in poor repair and not currently fit for habitation.” Her father gestured to a chair before the fire, and Aimee, rather warily, sat herself in it. Why did she feel suddenly apprehensive about what her father wanted to say?

“I had heard that the king’s forces leveled Lord Kentigern’s home,” she admitted slowly. “Was it reduced to mere rubble, then?”

“The outer structure is somewhat intact,” her father admitted. “But the roof was burned and the place sacked. No one lives there now, though he has kinswomen installed in the lodge house still.”

Aimee looked up quickly at this. “He does? Kinswomen?” Her father nodded. Aimee wondered if her bridegroom would invite these kinswomen to their wedding.

“It will take a lot of work to restore the place to its former glory,” her father said ruefully. “Luckily for Lord Kentigern, his father-in-law has very deep coffers.”

Aimee reached across to clasp her father’s hand. “How happy he must be at the place being returned both to him and its former glory,” she said fervently. “And all thanks to you, Father.”

Her father nodded and pursed his lips. “It is times like these that I most miss your mother,” he sighed. “You and your sister won’t remain for long under my roof now.”

Aimee found herself a little choked at the thought. “Will you be lonely, Father?”

He gave a startled chuckle. “Lonely? Oh, I shouldn’t think so. Always plenty of company willing to eat at an old widower’s table.”

Aimee knew full well her father never lacked for company and eyed him shrewdly. “Have you never thought of remarrying?” she asked, thinking of the Widow Hemmings whose society he often enjoyed.