WolfeLord by Kathryn Le Veque

CHAPTER FOUR

For this time of year, the day had dawned with a significant amount of dew and fog across the gently rolling hills of northern England.

Everything was wet as Adria emerged from the keep. These days, her chamber was an alcove off of Lily’s main chamber, a tiny room used for servants in days past, but it had become her tiny haven. She really didn’t mind because it was cozy and private, and more importantly, it was hers alone. She didn’t have to share it with anyone. It kept her close to Lily, who slept alone in the big chamber except for Atticus, who had his own bed near the hearth and a corner of the enormous chamber to call his own.

Carlisle’s keep hadn’t been built for comfort or growing families. It had the one massive chamber and smaller servant’s chamber on the top floor and then directly below that was the smaller hall. There were other small chambers off the hall, two in fact, and then there was a vault below the hall where they kept the stores. Visitors and knights either slept in the outbuildings in the outer ward or they slept in the small apartment block in the inner ward that was built along the wall next to the gatehouse.

That was where Adria’s father was.

Truthfully, she was hoping he would become disgruntled with her refusal to participate in the schemes he’d come to her with and would soon be heading home. She’d stayed away from him last night and as the misty day dawned, she intended to stay away from him this morning as well.

The man’s mere presence made her tense.

Still, she wasn’t going to let him distract her. She had a task to complete with Warenton’s gift and she intended to see it through. In her arms, she carried the blue woolen fabric with the intention of having it gently washed to remove the ammonia smell that Lily found so unpleasant. There was a type of herb used for the cleansing of clothing, called soapwort or even latherwort depending on the region or even the variation of the herb, that created a fine frothy liquid when crushed that was quite gentle on clothing and quite effective.

Adria had seen the washerwomen of Carlisle use the soapwort many times and even at this early hour, the women from the village who washed the clothing of the inhabitants of the castle were in the kitchen yard, heating big vats of water for the wash of the day. These women were paid well for washing clothing and Adria greeted them as they gathered around her, sensing a well-paying job with the fabric she was carrying. She was able to negotiate a good price for the washing with one of the women, turning over the fabric but not leaving the yard.

She wanted to make sure that lovely blue color wasn’t damaged.

As the washerwoman began to work on the smelly fabric, Adria watched from a position over near the fire that was heating the big vats of water. It was warm there, heat against the cold morning. She was thinking about seeking something warm to drink, as the cook usually had something warm and simmering like watered wine, spicy and delicious, or even warm milk with cinnamon. That was Lily’s favorite. As she mulled over collecting a drink, she saw a small body dart into the yard.

Atticus entered the yard, carrying his wooden sword. He wasn’t well-dressed against the chill, meaning he’d slipped out while his mother was asleep. With Atticus, that happened quite a bit. When she saw the child, she immediately went to intercept him.

“Atticus?” she said. “What are you doing here? It’s very cold this morning. Where is your heavy tunic?”

Atticus’ teeth were chattering in the cold, his nose pinched red. He was wearing what he had been sleeping in – a tunic and a pair of breeches. He’d pulled his shoes on, but one of them was untied and he was dragging the ties through the mud of the yard.

He looked at Adria as if prepared to fight her off with his wooden weapon.

“I… I was looking for Bradford,” he said. “Have you seen him?”

Adria shook her head. “I have not,” she said. “Does your mother know you are here?”

Atticus frowned. “Where is my father?” he said. “I want my father.”

“You just said you were looking for Bradford,” Adria reminded him. “Do not lie to me, Atticus. Your mother does not know you are here because you are poorly dressed against the morning. That means you’ve not even washed your neck or ears. Your mother asks you to do that every morning before you dress.”

Atticus’ frown grew, looking very much like his mother in that gesture. “You cannot tell me what to do,” he said. “Leave me alone.”

He was defiant for a six year old. And naughty. But Adria didn’t care how defiant or naughty he was; she knew how to take charge. Reaching out, she grabbed him by the ear, pulling him over to the fire with its boiling vats of water.

“Ooch!” Atticus cried as she dragged him across the yard. “Let me go!”

“Quiet,” Adria hissed. “You are a wild and naughty lad, Atticus de Wolfe, and you disobey your mother far more than you should.”

“Let me –!”

“Hush,” she snapped softly, cutting him off. “There is no one to help you, so you may as well cooperate.”

The washerwomen had already washed some of the linens that were used in the keep, either bedding or towels, and she grabbed one off the line that it was hanging on. Still dragging Atticus, she dipped the linen in the boiling water, waited a nominal amount of time for it to cool, before grabbing the child by the hair and using the warm, wet rag to wash his neck by force.

Atticus howled.

“Stop!” he demanded, trying to pull away from her. “Stop washing me!”

Adria ignored him. She scrubbed the boy’s dirty face, having seen Lily do it a thousand times and having watched Atticus scream a thousand times. The boy hated to be washed, but Lily simply didn’t have the strength to do battle with him these days, so Adria was happy to do it in her stead.

But Atticus was not happy to have her do it.

“You’re hurting me!” he cried. “Let me go!”

Adria continued in her task, now washing his ears as he struggled to pull away from her. But she held his hair fast and he finally gave up pulling when he realized she wasn’t going to let him go. He whined and groaned as she went back to scrubbing the back of his neck because it was so dirty. She didn’t stop until she was satisfied.

“There,” she said, finally releasing him. “Now, you will return to your chamber and put on warmer clothing. If you do not, I will drag you back into the chamber and dress you myself. Is that what you want?”

Rubbing at his stinging ears, Atticus hung his head and scowled. “Nay.”

Adria pointed to the keep. “Go,” she told him. “Do not come down until you are properly dressed.”

Atticus dared to look up at her, sticking his tongue out at her before running off as fast as he could go. Adria shook her head at the cheeky child, catching sight of Will entering the kitchen yard just as Atticus ran through the gate like his arse was on fire. Puzzled, Will watched his son bolt as Adria went to him to clear up his confusion.

“He was out here looking for Bradford,” she said. “He is ill-clothed for the chill morning, so I washed his face and neck and sent him back up to dress properly.”

Will grinned, flashing that seductive de Wolfe smile that most of the males in the family seemed to have – dimpled, with prominent canines. It was a smile that thrilled a thousand female hearts and then some.

“Is that all?” he asked. “I heard him howling in the outer ward. I thought surely he was being tortured.”

“He was.”

Will chuckled. “I am sure he thinks so,” he said, sobering as he looked at Adria. “Thank you for tending to him. I assume Lady de Wolfe is still asleep?”

Adria nodded. “I think so,” she said. “She was when I left the chamber. She seems to sleep a good deal these days, understandably.”

Will’s humor left him completely as Adria inadvertently brought up Lily’s condition. It was the entire reason why he hadn’t slept last night and this morning, the situation didn’t look any better. If anything, he felt worse. He glanced at Adria, seeing that lovely woman he’d always seen. Luscious titian-colored hair and green eyes were part of the beauty he was faced with every day, so he’d become accustomed to it and to her. She was a fixture in his family, something unnoticed when she was present but were she to leave, she would be terribly missed because she was incredibly devoted to Lily. She had been a great and loyal friend to his wife.

Lily was going to need that devotion now, more than ever.

“She is under a good deal of strain these days,” he said. It was all he could manage to say on that matter. “Adria… you were with her yesterday when Tarraby examined her, were you not?”

Adria nodded. “I was.”

“Did Tarraby… what I mean to say is did he express any concerns to you or to Lady de Wolfe?”

Adria cocked her head. “Concerns?” she repeated thoughtfully. “Nay, no concerns, but he did ask her many questions. Why do you ask?”

Will shrugged. “I was just curious if he said anything to her, or she to him.”

“You’ve not asked her?”

He shook his head. “I’ve not seen her since last night,” he said. “I will ask her when I see her, but I thought you might be able to tell me anything interesting.”

Adria shook her head. “Nothing particularly interesting,” she said. “Did Tarraby not tell you the results of his examination? He said that he was going to.”

Will couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he had indeed spoken to Tarraby. He was starting to feel anxious again, still shocked from the news, when he suddenly saw his son bolting across the inner ward again, heading for the gatehouse. The boy had a heavy tunic on, but his shoes were still untied, the laces dragging in the mud.

His focus shifted.

“Lady Adria,” he said quietly. “I was hoping that you might be able to help Lady de Wolfe these days by tending to Atticus more closely. I know that my wife likes to tend her children herself, but in her condition, she should not be chasing after him. I realize that you serve my wife as her lady-in-waiting, but would you be willing to help more with Atticus? More than you usually do?”

Adria nodded. “Or course, my lord,” she said. “I would be happy to.”

“Would you be willing to take full charge of him?”

“If you and Lady de Wolfe wish it.”

Will was trying not to convey what he was feeling. He was trying to keep his manner calm and composed like he always was, but given the subject matter, it was difficult. He didn’t want to let on that there was a reason for his request beyond the normal concerns of Lily’s obvious condition.

“I do,” he said. “I will break the bad news to Atticus because he fears you are a tyrant, but I appreciate you tending to him so Lady de Wolfe does not have to worry over him. She should not be exerting herself so.”

Adria smiled at the mention of a tyrant, for it was true. But something in those pale eyes studied him closely.

He could feel her scrutiny.

“Did Tarraby tell you something that we should be concerned with?” she asked.

He hadn’t yet admitted he’d even spoken to Tarraby yet and he didn’t want to fuel her curiosity, so he simply waved her off.

“My wife is pregnant,” he stated the obvious. “That is always something to be concerned with. Now, I will go find my son, who I just saw run through the gatehouse, and bring him back here. I will tell him that you have full authority over him but I will request that if there is any punishment to be dealt out that you consult with me first. Will you do that?”

“Of course, my lord.”

His gaze lingered on her as he wanted to say more but he ended up averting his eyes and turning towards the gatehouse.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said quietly. “Your help is much appreciated.”

Adria simply nodded even though he couldn’t see her. She watched him walk across the small inner ward, studying the man. He had a kind of deliberate, proud gait. He was an enormous man with the future of the entire de Wolfe empire weighing on him. He was quite the handsome man; she’d always thought so. When he flashed that grin as he so often did, Adria could well understand how the gesture would make even the hardiest maiden faint with glee. With his hazel eyes and dark hair with a hint of auburn, he most definitely had that power.

But there was something gruff about Will de Wolfe, something hard and strong and unbreakable. He could bellow out orders that could be heard over half of England and he had a penchant for using hilarious insults when the mood struck him. They’d all heard Will call his men lumpish gecks when they didn’t move fast enough or tell them that they were all a gaggle of musty parasites when something didn’t go his way.

There was no one in all of England who could insult men better and get away with it.

Secretly, Adria had always had a bit of a fondness for him. She wouldn’t even admit that to herself even though she knew it was true because Will was married to her lady and there would never be anything improper in her manner towards him. Adria wasn’t in the habit of trying to seduce married men and she certainly wasn’t going to start with Will de Wolfe, a man who was not only far above her station, but one she respected tremendously.

If there was a more perfect husband out there, she had yet to find him.

But it wasn’t like the marriage was perfect in and of itself. It wasn’t; being as close as she was to Lily, she knew that. Will and Lily rarely slept in the same bed – she in the big chamber and he in his private solar. Lily liked to sleep alone, so she said, and Will didn’t fight her on it. They fact that they had three children and a fourth on the way was something of a miracle.

But there was a dark and dirty truth of it.

The reality was that Will and Lily had married too hastily, and too young, forced together by Lily’s father who had wanted his daughter to have the de Wolfe connection. He wanted that link. Twelve years later, Lily and Will had a polite marriage, but it was more like two friends being thrust together rather than two lovers. Chris de Lohr’s political marriage had consigned them both to a pleasant association and little more.

But no one acknowledged that. No one spoke of it.

Least of all Adria.

It was simply the way of things.

Pushing the state of Will and Lily’s marriage aside, for there was no use thinking on something that really wasn’t any of her affair, she turned back towards the washerwoman who was carefully scrubbing the blue fabric with the soapwort. She could see the woman from where she was standing. Around her, the castle was coming alive as the morning deepened, with men on the walls changing shifts and the servants below going about their duties.

The kitchens were in full swing by this time, preparing for the smaller nooning meal and then the feast that night. Adria could hear shouting on the walls and she shielded her eyes from the rising sun, looking up to see what the trouble was. There didn’t seem to be anything of note more than soldiers yelling at one another so she lowered her hand as she reached the washerwoman and the blue fabric, now stretched out on a table.

“Good morn, my lady.”

The greeting came from behind. Adria turned to see Hermes de Norville standing behind her, smiling timidly. She smiled politely in return.

“Good morn, Sir Hermes,” she said. “What brings you to the kitchen yard?”

His smile turned genuine. “You,” he said frankly. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you.”

Adria nodded hesitantly, following him a few steps away from the washerwomen. When he turned to face her, she looked at him curiously.

“What is it?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

Hermes shook his head. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “Nothing is wrong. I was wondering… well, I hope you do not think I am being too bold by asking, but I was wondering if you would be interested in accompanying me to Gretna. I was passing through the other day and it seems that they are having a festival this week. There is food and music. It might be enjoyable.”

Adria stared at him for a moment. It wasn’t the first time Hermes had asked her to keep company with him. When they went to mass every week, he always tried to stand with her or get near her somehow. Last month, there had been a traveling entertainment in Carlisle, acting out stories from the bible on the backs of wagons, and he had asked her if she would like him to escort her. She told him no – always, no. Just as she’d told Lily, they had nothing in common but the truth was that she simply wasn’t attracted to him.

Poor Hermes.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t handsome or kind. He was handsome, and very tall, with a crown of reddish-blond hair and blue eyes. He was a cousin to Will on both his mother and father’s side, as Will’s father’s sister had married his mother’s brother. Hermes was kind to her and the other women at Carlisle. But with the men, he could be a little… wild. She’d heard Will tell stories of how Hermes and his brother, Atreus, were veritable wild men when they got together, and in battle, Hermes was fearless – and not in a good way. Reckless, she’d heard Will say, but his skill saved him from losing his life.

The fact remained, however, that she didn’t want to give him any encouragement where there was no hope.

She felt bad about it.

“It sounds most enjoyable,” she agreed. “But I am sorry to say that I cannot leave Lady de Wolfe at this time. You know that she is nearing the birth of her child and, even now, Lord de Wolfe has asked me to take charge of little Atticus until such time as his mother can tend to him again. So, you see, I have a great many things that I am responsible for. I cannot leave the castle at this time.”

Hermes was nodding even before she finished her sentence, perhaps embarrassed that he’d been refused yet again.

“I understand completely, my lady,” he said. “Mayhap another time.”

He said that every time she turned him away and, every time, she would simply nod and agree.

But not this time.

“Sir Hermes,” she said hesitantly. “I pray you do not think me cruel for refusing your kind invitations, but I fear that I must be completely honest with you. May I?”

He eyed her with some apprehension, but like a gentleman, he nodded. “Of course, my lady,” he said. “I would hope we are always honest with one another.”

He said it, but he didn’t mean it. Honestly would mean disappointment for him, but Adria had no choice if they were to end this uncomfortable and depressing dance they did on a regular basis.

“Then I must tell you that although I am very flattered by your invitations, I am afraid that I am simply not interested in anything other than a pleasant friendship,” she said. “I have no intention of marrying you or anyone else at this time, so if you had something more in mind, then I am sorry to disappoint you.”

He sighed, producing another forced smile as his cheeks turned a dull shade of red. “I had a feeling that was the situation,” he said. “I was trying not to make a nuisance out of myself, but… well, I told myself it didn’t hurt to ask. Mayhap one of these days you might agree.”

Adria smiled at the man, seeing how embarrassed he was. “If you mean to invite me simply as your friend, I would be happy to agree should the situation warrant it,” she said. “You and I have known each other for a couple of years and I have found you pleasant and good conversation, but I am simply not interested in anything more. I am sorry.”

He scratched his head in a nervous gesture. “Don’t be,” he said. “You are being truthful and I appreciate it. If being your friend is all I can be, then I shall take it gladly.”

“Good. I would like that.”

“Then one of these days you might accompany me to an entertainment as my friend?”

“As your friend, I should like that.”

There was nothing more to say at that point and he simply lifted a hand to beg his leave. Adria watched him go as he headed out of the kitchen yard, breathing a sigh of relief that this might actually be the last time she had to turn him down, at least in that sense. He was a nice man, but she simply wasn’t interested.

She wondered how long it would be before he forgot that.

“Is he bothering you again?”

Yet another voice came from behind and she turned to her left to see Ronan standing there. She had no idea how he’d even gotten into the kitchen yard without her seeing him.

“Where did you come from?” she asked.

Ronan grinned. He was young and very handsome and muscular, with blond hair and glittering, dark eyes. He was usually the strong and silent type, having inherited his manner from his late grandfather, Kieran Hage. He also had Kieran’s eyes, those dark eyes that seemed to look right through a man’s soul. Or a woman’s. Adria had never met the legendary Sir Kieran Hage, as he’d died several years earlier, but she’d heard enough about him. She’d also met his sons, Alec and Nathaniel, and Ronan definitely had that big, well-built look about him like the Hage men did.

But his intelligence, his skill, was purely de Wolfe.

“I came through the postern gate,” he said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “What did that big dunce want?”

Adria had to fight off a grin. Ronan never really said much, but when he did, he was to the point. Hermes was not his cousin by blood, but the entire de Wolfe – de Norville – Hage families were so intertwined that they were really just one big family, so Ronan treated Hermes as he would a cousin.

An annoying one, but a cousin nonetheless.

“It is not of your affair,” she said. “And he wasn’t bothering me.”

Ronan cast her a long look. “I’ve seen how he looks at you and how you want to run from him,” he said. “Do not try and fool me.”

“I am not trying to fool anyone.”

“Should I chase him away for good?”

“I can chase him away myself if I wish, so I do not need your help.”

Ronan snorted. “I think I’ll find him and pound on him a bit,” he said. “He’s due for a beating, anyway.”

Adria rolled her eyes. “He’s taller than you are,” she said. “And I know that he’s a madman in battle, so do you really want to provoke him?”

Ronan puffed up. “I’m bigger and stronger than he is,” he pointed out. “Hermes is a madman in battle, but foolish at times. Besides… he’s only half the man without his brother around. The two of them together are like a tempest.”

“It is a pity they cannot serve together.”

Ronan frowned. “Have you met Atreus de Norville?”

“Once or twice.”

Ronan shook his head. “You do not want the two of them together unless we are going into battle,” he said. “It is well known that Hermes is the kindling and Atreus is the spark. The only safe thing to do is keep them apart unless we want an explosion.”

Adria simply nodded, noting that the washerwoman were carefully rubbing in the soapwart to the fabric, testing sections to make sure the blue dye didn’t fade out or run.

“Thank you for the stimulating conversation,” she said, distracted. “I have tasks to attend to now.”

Ronan nodded, but he didn’t move away. “What did Hermes want?”

Adria sighed with frustration. “If you must know, he was speaking of an entertainment in Gretna,” she said. “He had just come through town and thought I might like to hear about it.”

“He invited you to go see it, didn’t he?”

“What business is that of yours?”

Ronan grinned, eyeing her. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Near Hexham, there is a tavern called The Temple. My father has taken me there before because it is known far and wide for the food it serves. Delicious and mysterious food that the lost legions used to eat. Men who built the walls along the Scots borders.”

Adria looked at him. “I’ve heard of those men,” she said. “If they’re lost, then how do you know what they ate?”

Ronan laughed. “Because there are families in the north who have those lost legions in their blood,” he said. “The secrets of their food have been passed down for centuries and The Temple prepares that food. I think you would like it.”

Her brow furrowed. “How do you know what I would like?”

He lifted his big shoulders. “It’s only a guess,” he said. “The last time I was there, they had cabbage with vinegar and honey, and a soft cheese with a great deal of garlic and salt in it, spread upon bread. It was delicious.”

Adria still wasn’t convinced. “Too much garlic makes my belly ache,” she said. “I am not sure that I would…”

She was cut off when she heard a shout, turning to see Gar entering the kitchen yard. The sight of her father had Adria’s annoyance rising immediately. She was hoping the man wouldn’t come out to wander the grounds of Carlisle, but she supposed that was too much to ask. Reluctantly, she lifted her hand in greeting.

“Who is that?” Ronan asked.

Adria sighed faintly. “My father.”

“Good morn, Daughter,” Gar said as he came near. “I did not see you last evening before I went to bed. Are you well?”

Adria nodded. “Quite well,” she said, now seeing that Gar was looking at Ronan curiously. “Papa, this is Sir Ronan de Wolfe. Sir Ronan, this is my father, St. Ansgar de Geld, Lord Alcester.”

Gar greeted the handsome young knight with more enthusiasm than he should have. “An honor, my lord,” he said. But then he looked at his daughter. “I just saw another young knight leaving the yard. Another de Wolfe?”

Adria suspected what her father was fishing for. “Nay,” she said. “A de Norville. Sir Hermes de Norville.”

That apparently wasn’t as much of a lure as a de Wolfe knight. Gar returned his attention to Ronan. “You are a brother to Lord de Wolfe?” he asked.

Ronan shook his head. “Nay, my lord,” he said. “He is my cousin. Our fathers are brothers.”

“Who is your father?”

“He was born Sir James de Wolfe, the fourth son of the Earl of Warenton and his wife, but through a situation too complex to quickly describe, he is known as Blayth,” he said. “I am his eldest son.”

“Blayth,” Gar said thoughtfully. “That is Welsh for wolf, is it not?”

“It is, my lord.”

Gar simply nodded, not delving into that curious name change because he honestly didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact that he had a de Wolfe son in front of him. Not just any son, but a first born.

And unmarried. Young, but unmarried.

His hunting instincts took hold.

“How interesting,” he said. “And you serve your cousin?”

“I do, my lord.”

Gar looked up at the walls of Carlisle. “You and your wife do not mind raising your children in such a wild place as Carlisle, then?”

As Adria sighed heavily, knowing exactly what her father was up to, Ronan shook his head. “I am not married, my lord,” he said.

“Oh?” Gar said. “You are young, that is true, but if a man is old enough to hold a sword, he is old enough to hold a wife.”

“I have never heard it put that way before, but you may be right.”

“I am sure your mother would think so,” Gar said. “Does she not want grandchildren?”

Ronan laughed softly, slightly embarrassed. “I am certain she does, someday,” he said. “Like most mothers, I am certain she wishes to see me settled and happy.”

Gar smiled. “You are handsome and titled,” she said. “I am sure a fine match will come along very soon for you. Mayhap it is even right under your nose and you do not realize it yet.”

Adria stepped in; she had to. If her father kept on, she’d be betrothed to Ronan before the nooning meal.

“Papa, Sir Ronan has duties to attend to,” she said, putting herself between Ronan and her father and taking the man’s arm. “And I have something I must speak to you about. Sir Ronan, will you please excuse us?”

Ronan nodded, glad for the excuse to escape the man asking personal questions. Adria waited until he was nearly through the kitchen gate before dropping her father’s arm and turning to him angrily.

“How dare you embarrass me like that,” she hissed. “My God, Papa, have you no shame? Asking such prying questions?”

Gar’s eyes narrowed. “You must marry,” he hissed right back at her. “How dare you overlook an eligible knight in your very midst. And not just any knight – a de Wolfe son! Why not him?”

Adria growled in frustration and turned away. “I will not have this conversation with you,” she said, leading him away from the washerwomen so they would not hear. “I do not wish to marry him or anyone else right now.”

Gar was following her, pleading. “What is wrong with him?” he asked. “Why not?”

She came to a halt and whirled on him. “Because he is simply a knight who serves Lord de Wolfe and nothing more,” she said. “I am Lady de Wolfe’s lady-in-waiting. It is a good position and I will not have you embarrass me by trying to marry me off.”

Gar was losing his patience. “I told you that if you do not marry de Brito, then you must marry a wealthy man to pay off my debt to Silas,” he growled. “A debt I entered into for you, so you could find a position in life.”

“You did not!”

“I did,” he snapped. “The deal was that you would marry him when you came of age or I would pay him back the money – whatever the situation warranted. One way or the other, I will have my pound of flesh from you, so you had better quickly decide what that will be, for I am not leaving Carlisle until you either agree to come with me or agree to marry someone with wealth. What will your choice be?”

Adria was back to feeling angry and frustrated with her father. That was why she had avoided him the night before, why she had hoped to avoid him this morning. But here he was, back again, and his demands hadn’t changed.

Anger gave way to disgust.

“It is always the same song with you,” she muttered. “Your debts ruined you and borrowing money to educate me has put you in a position where you would see my life ruined to pay for your bad judgment. What happens if I marry de Brito, Papa? What happens then? Does he magically pay your debts? Is Alcester magically restored? Or do you simply intend to use me to get money from my husband to support your gambling habit?”

Gar gazed at her steadily. “What else are you good for?”

He may as well have slapped her. Adria looked at the man in utter revulsion, trying not to feel hurt by his statement.

But she couldn’t quite manage it.

“Nothing,” she said hoarsely. “Absolutely nothing. I was born to a vile beast of a father who killed my mother with his immoral behavior and has only sought to use me for his own repellent purposes. Do you know why I will not marry? Because I want to see you suffer. I want to see Silas de Brito punish you for not repaying your debt. I want to see you drown in the gutter, a victim of your own foolishness. That is why I will not marry and I swear, with God as my witness, that I will commit myself to the cloister before I marry anyone just because you want me to. Go home, Papa. I do not want to see you anymore.”

With that, she pushed past him, heading from the kitchen yard. The blue fabric was forgotten; everything was forgotten.

Even her father.

But Gar was still standing there, watching her go. He had no intention of leaving. Adria was stubborn, but he was stronger. He’d stick around if only to break her down into doing what he wanted her to do. The time had come for that and he wasn’t going to give up.

In fact, he had a de Wolfe son on his mind now.

The perfect husband, related to a perfect fortune.

He was going to see what he could do about it.