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“Agreed,” her husband said, turning back to his brother.

The remainder of the meal passed in a kind of quiet contentment Phillipa had never known before. At home, as at court, she’d always been expected to be someone other. Here, no one asked for anything from her, except pleasant conversation.

She’d learned the Lord and Lady of Brookhurst had four children, close in age to Phillipa, though all were away at present. Most interesting, however, was the story the lady had shared about their marriage. Apparently Lady Kristine was once a lady’s maid and had met her husband when he and Haydn’s uncle visited her overlord’s castle.

“A love match,” she said, in awe. Phillipa had heard of so few of them at court, at least among nobles. She had never considered marrying for love before, not seriously. Of course she’d heard tales of such—stories and songs that told of a love that most would never enjoy. Among the queen’s ladies, only one was fanciful enough to believe such a thing truly possible.

“You seem more surprised by that than our difference in stations,” Lady Kristine said.

“I suppose both surprise me,” she admitted, their tones low enough not to be overheard by the men to their right and left. Haydn was occupied with his brother, and Lord Brookhurst spoke now to a servant.

“You shall be even more surprised to meet your new husband’s family. ’Tis often said they must be either blessed, or cursed.”

Phillipa didn’t understand. “Blessed, or cursed?”

“Aye, for the love matches in their family. You’ve heard of his parents meeting, have you not?”

“Aye.” She knew little except that Haydn’s father had been a reiver, but she did not want to admit as much. What should she say? That he did not trust her, with good reason, and so hardly spoke to her except when ’twas necessary?

“And of his uncle Bryce?”

Again she knew only a bit of their story. “Aye, he’s made mention of him.”

“For every Waryn, there is a love match.”

“Every one?” It was not possible.

“Aye. My husband first met your new sister-in-law, Lady Emma, when he lived with her husband for a time. He was betrothed to another, in fact.”

“Then how were they able to wed?”

Lady Kristine leaned forward. “The bride-to-be was in love with another man, and enceinte with his child.”

Phillipa gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “Nay?”

“Lady Kristine,” Haydn interrupted; Phillipa had not realized he could hear them, “could tell tales of my family’s exploits all eve. If not for the events of a long day, we would welcome them.”

“Of course,” Lady Kristine said. “You must be weary from travel.” She knew not of the attack. “And just your third night as husband and wife, I am told. As such, I took the liberty of placing your bedchambers beside each other. A hot bath is awaiting you.” She leaned forward to address Holt. “And for you as well, Holt.”

Phillipa watched her husband to see if he would correct her, but since they still had separate chambers, it seemed that was well enough for him. He thanked Lady Kristine and waited for her to give permission for them to rise as the hosts apparently intended to stay at the meal. When she did, Phillipa stood, her chair pulled out by a servant from behind.

“Enjoy a bath and soft bed. I know all too well the toils of travelling a distance such as on your journey to Rymerden Castle.”

Rymerden Castle? “We travel to—”

“Many thanks,” her husband interrupted her. “We bid you a good eve.”

Holt, it seemed, was staying a bit longer.

“I should speak to you,” Haydn said to Lord Brookhurst, “after I partake in your wife’s generous offer of a hot bath.”

“Ask my steward where to find me,” Brookhurst said. “Good eve to you both.”

With that, and with a final glance to their hosts, and to Holt, she accepted the offer of her husband’s arm. It was only after they’d passed under the archway of the hall’s main entrance that Haydn let her go as if she were a leper.

They followed the waiting maid, not saying a word to each other. Phillipa wished their accommodations were in separate towers rather than just next to each other. That’s when she realized what Haydn had been doing from the start. Putting distance between them, knowing ’twas easier that way. Certainly the more she learned of him, the more she watched him and, sometimes, even caught him looking at her, the more she began to wish theirs was a love match too. Or at least a marriage not plagued by mistrust and competing concerns.

A marriage doomed to fail.