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Lord Waryn didn’t even glance her way. He didn’t introduce her to his companion, a gesture no doubt intended to leave a message. One which she received loud and clear.

We may be betrothed, but I am neither happy about the fact nor intend to grant you any courtesy because of it.

When Lord Waryn inclined his head ever so slightly toward her, Phillipa’s heart plummeted at his expression. He hated her. Or hated this situation. Likely both.

Watching them walk away without so much as one of the men offering parting words, Phillipa closed her eyes, not caring the attendants were watching her. Marriage had been her only hope of escaping the utter disregard offered by her father these many years. But this was not to be the escape she’d hoped for.

Phillipa was simply switching one guardian for another.

Albeit a handsome one.

Chapter Five

“Sign and we’re done here.”

Lord Sherfield watched him with shrewd eyes. The man was both cunning and ambitious, a dangerous combination. Haydn had spoken at length with his parents about this very contract, and though he hadn’t given Sherfield more than he’d been willing to initially, Haydn was also glad the meeting was finally concluded.

Except. . .

“Pardon me, my lord,” he said. “I will be but a moment.” Standing with enough force for his future father-in-law to startle, Haydn gave his brother a look that told him to stay. Striding toward the door, he swung it open and stepped into the hall. At the door, a guard. Although Haydn wasn’t sure what the man guarded. He supposed here, in the king’s wing of the East Tower, guards lurked around every corner.

Running a hand through his hair, Haydn walked toward an empty alcove, its velvet-cushioned seat the respite he needed. He sat, thinking about that signature Sherfield was waiting on. How could he give it, sentencing himself and Lady Phillipa to the very opposite of the kind of marriage his parents enjoyed? He’d never deluded himself into allowing himself to care much about what kind of marriage he would have. But this? Bringing what amounted to a spy into his family? They had no chance of a real marriage.

Where was the lady now?

When he first saw her walking toward him in the hall, Haydn thought for certain this was some cruel jest. Surely a woman that beautiful was not the daughter of a man who looked like Lord Sherfield. Certainly he’d not been expecting for his pulse to quicken at the sight of his future bride.

But with each step closer, it had done just that.

She was the opposite of what many considered beautiful, unlike his sister. Haddie’s constant quest to remain thin was one he’d often chided. And though Haddie’s appearance should be none of his concern, when a maid had advised her to pluck out hairs for a “more desirable forehead,” he’d told her the advice was nonsense. Neither did he believe looking as if one had never seen the sun before was advisable, though popular with his sister and her companions.

Of course, Haddie cared little for his opinion.

As to her disposition, Haydn had been raised by a woman who held a castle after her father’s death against forces seeking to take Kenshire from her. His aunt Catrina cussed as much as his uncle, and women wearing men’s breeches was not an unusual sight at Kenshire Castle.

His bride, it seemed, was timid. Obedient. The kind of woman another man, a lesser man, might covet. But not him. Nor any of his siblings. He and his brothers were different in many ways, but on this, they agreed. The law governing women was unjust. Their voices, unnecessarily silenced. When Haddie married, she would no longer be legally able to sign contracts, bear witnesses in court, or borrow money. If she wished to remain unmarried, as she did now, none of them could blame her.

“Is it done, then?”

He’d been so intent on watching a wall torch, needed even now despite the early hour, the inner corridor affording little light, that Haydn hadn’t seen her coming. He stood, towering over her, his body forgetting that she was as much the enemy to his family as the king himself.

“Lady Phillipa,” he said, regretting his lack of a greeting earlier. It had gone against his good manners, but Haydn did not want his future bride to get the wrong impression. They would not remain together, and it would be easier for them both to remain distant. “Nay,” he replied without offering an explanation.

Her eyes darted toward the door. “Why are you here, and not in there?”

That surprised him. Perhaps he’d misjudged her?

“I must be back inside.”

Her thick, well-manicured brows furrowed. “To sign our marriage contract?”

“Aye.”

“My father is still in there?”

“Aye.”

Clearly she wanted to ask more. Were she Haddie, or his cousin Rylee, she would have. She’d demand to know why he sat alone in this alcove when he should be inside the chamber finalizing the agreement. And he’d have been forced to explain the momentary doubt. The one that he now pushed aside knowing there was nothing to do but sign the marriage agreement.