Isabel kicked off her slippers, then stretched out her toes to the warmth of the fire. Tomorrow, she would send a message to the Archbishop of York for a dispensation. Better to start the proceedings now. Ecclesiastical matters took a such long time. She sighed. I must plant an heir. She licked her lips as she thought of Launce, a groom whom she had seduced several months ago. Tall, sturdy and blond—like his Cavendish master, he swived well. The begetting would be fun in the bargain.
Isabel would lie with Launce on the morrow. She wiggled her toes at the pleasurable prospect.
The late-summer sun lingered in the western sky as Thomas led Alicia into the high-walled garden in the lee of the castle. She breathed in the familiar aromas of new-turned earth, roses in full bloom, and sun-warmed mint. Gillyflowers in pinks and whites, purple-headed irises, nodding, golden-eyed daisies and the ordered rows of the herb garden caught her by surprise.
“Your garden is lovely, and very well cared for, my lord. Isabel did not strike me as a gardener.”
“She is not,” he replied in a brusque manner. “‘Tis Mary’s.”
Alicia’s eyes widened. “Your little sister? I am amazed. She is so young, yet she has a skillful hand.”
Thomas sighed. “Mary is young and old at the same time. She—” He stopped, looked at Alicia, then said nothing. Instead, he stared at his polished boots.
He can speak wisely, yet he chooses not to. Alicia thanked assorted saints in heaven for her conversation with Mary this afternoon. The girl had a good eye for the people around her.
Thomas withdrew his fingertips from her elbow, and clasped his hands behind his back. Alicia tried not to show her disappointment. She had been heartened by his undivided, though silent, attention during supper, and by his surprising rebuke of his sister-in-law. She hoped that this walk would initiate a discussion of their marriage. Yet Thomas acted as if her presence displeased him. She swallowed down her fear. At least, he had not sent her away. Pray God, he would honor his betrothal contract.
Alicia forced a smile to her lips. “The evening is my favorite time of day,” she said by way of making small talk. “Everything is at peace with itself.”
Thomas merely rumbled in his throat.
She ran her tongue across her dry lips, and continued the one-sided conversation in a bright manner. “Your sister must have a rare gift with growing things. The flowers are much larger than the ones my moth…my mother grew in her garden in York.” She must not think of her abandoned home. The pain of parting hurt too much.
“Aye,” Thomas muttered.
Alicia wondered what his deep voice would sound like when he whispered sweet words of love into a maiden’s ear. Her cheeks grew warm at the thought. Please, sweet Saint Anne, let him fall in love with me—or, at least, let him like me, just a little bit. She could not bear the thought of living the rest of her life without the comfort of love. The Bramptons had given her their fullest measure of affection during her childhood.
Just then Georgie brushed past them. He sniffed along the path of crushed oyster shells until he came to a spot under a thickly flowering pink rosebush. He began to dig; the flying dirt just missed Alicia’s skirts.
Thomas snapped his fingers twice. Georgie stopped his frantic activity, and gave them a look of reproach.
“Your pardon, Mistress Alicia. Did he foul your clothing?” Thomas reached out as if to brush away an offending clod of mud. Then he balled his fist, and jammed his hand behind his back again. He rocked back and forth on his heels, while he stared at a spot over her head.
He is afraid to touch me. Alicia found herself inordinately pleased with that possibility. He must respect me, even a little bit. Aloud, she remarked, “Nay, Georgie’s aim was off the mark. Pray, what is he digging for? A badger or a hare?”
Thomas chuckled. The sound sung in her ears.
“Nay, Georgie’s hunting days are past, I fear, though he does not know it yet. He buries his bones from the table scraps in the garden. Mary is at sixes and sevens over this little habit.”
“Mayhap, Georgie hopes to grow a bone tree, and so never have to beg for scraps again,” Alicia ventured.
Thomas laughed deep in his throat The unexpected sound caught Alicia by surprise. She must try to get him to laugh again, and often. She suspected he was not used to expressing his mirth in such an open fashion, thanks to his older brother’s torments during his childhood.
“Your little greyhound—do you know when she will deliver?”
“In a week’s time, or thereabouts.”
Alicia regarded Vixen. She noted how the sleek animal kept close to Thomas. “She is a beautiful creature. Did her other puppies look like honey as well?”
Thomas stared at Alicia, lifting his thick brows in surprise. “Very few look anything like their mother. I fear Vixen is too free with her favors. I never know who is the father until she whelps.” He chuckled again. “’Tis always a surprise.”
“Oh.” Alicia searched frantically for something else to say. “Have you fixed her a nest for her birthing?”
He sighed. “Every time. And every time, Vixen finds her own spot. She had one litter in the laundry, right in. the middle of newly washed linen. I had to pay the laundress two shillings to sweeten her temper. She was none too pleased at the mess.”
“Methinks she liked your silver,” Alicia observed.
He nodded. “Aye, she did. Silver is the way to all women’s hearts—” With a stricken look, the rest of his words died on his lips. He strode down the path.
Alicia ran to keep up with him. “Do you think my heart is bought with silver as well, Sir Thomas?”
He stopped so quickly that Taverstock bumped into his boot. Thomas scooped up the little dog, and scratched him behind his ears. He did not look at Alicia.
“Your father paid my father a great sum of gold as your dowry,” he muttered. “All women are bought and sold.”
She put her hands to her hips. “Is that the truth?” she asked, cocking her head. “And what of your sister, Mary? I presume you will dower her?”
“She…” He chewed on his lower lip.
Alicia continued, heedless of where her tongue might take her. “My…my father may have bartered my body, my lord, but I assure you no stack of gold, nor mound of jewels can buy my affections. I am not Isabel.”
“Thank God!” he murmured, still rubbing Taverstock’s little brown ears. “You are…” He did not complete his thought.
“Aye, my lord?”
He took a deep breath. “You will be my wife. My father swore it, and I will do my duty to honor his word.”
“Only duty?” Alicia gulped. Not even a glimmer of affection or desire?
Thomas put the little terrier down on the path. “Aye, well. We all have our responsibilities, mistress. I am newfound to mine, and I fear…”
Instead of finishing his sentence, Thomas turned on his heel, and practically ran back to the garden gate. Vixen and Tavie scampered after him. Georgie chose to stay with Alicia. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she watched the new earl’s receding figure in the half-moon’s feeble beams. Sweet angels! Would he run out on her at the church door on their wedding day? Just before Thomas rounded the corner of the wall, he stopped.
“I am glad you have come