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Standing between Gawin and Gerard, like a rabbit betwixt two tall beanpoles, I surveyed a flock of thirty sheep with far more interest than I actually had. The woolly creatures on short legs wandered about a fenced enclosure. Guarded by a mean-eyed ram who glared at me at intervals, they peacefully nosed about in the snow for the bits of grass beneath.
“We are planning to purchase more animals.” Gawin scratched his head through his cowl hood. “Caspar insisted that we research before we spend our profits.”
Gerard chimed in next. “Since Crispin doesn’t have any books on sheep and such, Caspar headed south as soon as Crispin returned. He should be home any day now. Then, he can talk your ears raw about all the sheep’s necessities.”
“And while he is gone, who takes care of the flock?” I asked. Personally, I wouldn’t particularly enjoy being near that ram. The rest of them didn’t appear too difficult, just filthy.
Both young men shrugged in unison.
“Crispin and Russett see to them every other day.” Gawin smiled at me. “Gerard and I alternate the remaining days, but usually Russett helps then too. He is trying to get back in Father’s good graces.”
“He has little chance of that,” Gerard declared. “Though, you did banish everyone from Father’s bad opinion save Crispin.”
“Why was Russett the object of the duke’s displeasure?” I glanced from one young man to the other.
Gawin, the elder of the two by three years, as I was informed, squirmed. “You see, there is this agreement that Father made us all sign at fourteen.”
“For me, it was eleven,” Gerard volunteered and immediately blushed. “He started pushing it younger after the incident with Hugo.”
“It is an agreement.” Gawin spoke loudly over his brother, adding a pointed glare for good measure. “Father drew it up so we would know what he expects of us as sons of the Duke of Areyuthia.”
Gerard blushed to the tips of his ears.
I was suddenly inquisitive about what Hugo had done. However, I resisted the impulse. I would ask Crispin later.
“What is included in the agreement?”
Gawin listed off a whole bunch of details as though he had memorized them long ago and was required to prove it upon demand. “...conduct ourselves in a manner that will bring honor and no shame upon the house of Areyuthia. Not marry a woman of noble blood within the royal houses of the seven duchies...”
The clause that was the crux of my current problem. I interrupted him mid-recital. “Could you write it down for me?” I offered him a charcoal stick and flipped through my notebook for the next plain page.
“Certainly.” Gawin accepted the book and bent to comply.
“Why, they are nothing more than some of Crispin’s charsticks. I am not sure what Father’s big issue was with them last night.” Gerard frowned at the remaining sticks in my box.
“I suspect he just didn’t like the idea of the gift as a principle.” I glanced at Gawin, who hadn’t stopped scribbling. “Only Caspar devotes himself solely to wool production. Am I correct?”
“Yes.” Gerard eagerly waved toward a building just across the pen from where we stood. “I weave it. Well, not just the wool. I work with linen, cotton, and occasionally silk if I can import enough. You should see my loom. It is the best in the country. Hugo and Crispin built it for me.”
“Finished.” Gawin offered the book and stick back to me. “Before you ask, I also work with the wool. I create yarns and threads in various colors and textures for Gerard to weave. Between the three of us, we make a tidy profit.”
“It sounds like a sound partnership.”
I intended to open to the page Gawin had written on, but hesitated when I spotted Rein striding over the fields. He looked severe and displeased.
“Oh, here comes brother grump.” Gerard pulled a pout. “He is going to ruin our fun as usual.”
“Behave!” Gawin jabbed his younger brother in the ribs. They scuffled for a few moments before straightening up and greeting Rein formally as he drew near.
“What is this?” Rein asked, surveying the three of us.
“A discussion,” I replied before the brothers could. “I asked Gawin and Gerard to give me a tour of their holdings on the property.”
“I promised her a tour of my weaving room,” Gerard added.
“More like I offered her a tour.” Gawin bowed to me. “It has been a pleasure speaking with you, my lady. I must return to my skeins of last year’s wool.” He glared markedly at his younger brother, who was grinning besottedly down at me. When that didn’t work, he cleared his throat. “Gerard, don’t you have a working on your loom that requires your attention?”
Gerard half shrugged. “There is no rush.”
“There is now.” Rein joined in the glaring at Gerard. “Lady Ryda has a busy schedule of places to visit.”
“Come visit our workshops at any time.” Gawin bowed deeply. Gerard followed suit with a slightly sulky air.
Rein didn’t wait for them to turn away before offering me his arm.
I ignored it. Instead, I placed my tools and book in the satchel slung over my shoulder and gathered up my snow-soaked skirts.
“Which way is Barod’s workshop?”
“That way.” He pointed off to the south, sadly the opposite direction of Crispin’s dwelling.
I mollified myself with the promise that Crispin’s place would be next and started striding through the snow.
Rein matched my pace, and for a while, he remained silent. Then, I almost fell into a hidden ha-ha between fields. He caught my arm moments before I fell face-first into the ditch.
“Not so fast. You do know there is an easier way.”
“No, I don’t.” I faced him. “What way might that be?”
He pointed to a line of trees a dozen or so feet away. “There is a path beneath those trees from the sheep farm to the orchards where Barod’s workshop is located. The path is much smoother and easier to traverse.”
“Then I shall go that way.” Hitching up my skirts, I turned toward the trees.
“Has your temper cooled enough that you would be willing to take my arm? Crispin will have my head if I let you come to harm.”
“I am not angry with you.” I eyed him for a moment. “I was under the impression you weren’t pleased with me.”
“I wasn’t...am...” He stuttered into silence before taking a long, deep breath. “Lady Ryda, I have been ordered to be your chaperone.”
“Alone?” I assessed him. Only a year or two Crispin’s senior, he didn’t appear old enough to be entrusted to chaperone me alone. “What if you fall prey to my wiles? Does your father consider you impervious?”
He smiled. “More like he trusts me to keep duty to the forefront of my mind and keep wary of anything you might try.”
“Duty, hmm?” In light of what the duchess had shared with me the night before, the duke having an obsession with his sons doing their duty fit. “What if I told you that I only care about Crispin?”
“I would believe you.”
“Good.” I dropped my skirts so they lay in the snow again. I stared out at the white-covered expanse around me. The sky was blue and cloudless, sunlight sparkled on the snow blinding me if I looked the wrong way, and a crisp nip to the air invigorated my lungs. “I was once scared of this.”
“What?”
“This.” I waved at the open space around me. “Did Crispin tell you why I didn’t escape before he came?”
“No.”
“It was because the Duke of Worthenave and his son had convinced me I feared open spaces. In part, they were right. I was afraid. However, Crispin came along and told me that he would help me overcome my fear. He offered me the means to leave. He didn’t force me. He just offered me a way and hope.”
“So, you are going to marry him as a way of repaying him?”
“No.” I grimaced at him over my shoulder. “That must be your father talking.”
He squinted back toward the keep. “Perhaps. After years of listening to the same poison over and over, it is hard to tell anymore what is mine and what is his.”
“I am fighting for Crispin because I love him. I selfishly want to spend the rest of my life with him no matter what comes.”
Rein stared at the snow at his feet. “Even if he is poor?”
“Neither of us fear work. I only crave the essentials and Crispin.”
“That is a short list.”
“The necessities of life are fewer than you might think when you are loved.”
He seemed to mull this for a few moments. I let him as I peered off toward the distant building among the barren orchard trees. The gray plume of smoke rising above the distant roof gave me hope that Barod might be working within. His was one of the skills I was most eager to witness. As a homemaker, I hoped to make much of our food. Learning to make preserves sounded like the perfect place to start.
“Do you suppose Barod is in his workhouse?” I asked.
Rein nodded slowly as though not completely thinking on my question. “He rarely isn’t working.”
“Good, then we should start walking. I had hopes to spend the lunch hour with Crispin.”
Before he could bother to dissuade me from that idea, I gathered up my skirts again and plowed forward through the drifts of snow toward the promised path.
~~~~~
PIP KEPT ME APPRISED of Ryda’s movements all morning. He announced his arrival each time by banging my door, tracking slush all over my foyer, and yelling his news. Upon finishing, he barged back out the door again with a blast of cold air.
“She just left Gerard and Gawin and is heading over to talk to Barod.”
That would take a while.
“Lady Ryda is walking over to Count Conrad’s cellar.” This declaration was accompanied by a formal bow before he ran out again. Apparently, Ryda had corrected his manners because my brothers never bothered much with titles.
I smiled at the thought. She worked well with Pip, who was fast becoming like family.
Stepping back from my shelves, I surveyed the contents. Books now lined up in an organized manner over the right three-quarters of the wall. The remaining quarter of my bookcases held parchment rolls of maps, diagrams, and paintings. Stowed in one corner, beneath one of my two desks, I had stacked boxes of odds and ends. On top of the table were stacked the remaining books I could not fit on my shelves. Their spines made an interesting backdrop of reds, browns, and grays.
I groaned and stretched my back. The organization was not worthy of comparison to the contents of the Duke of Worthenave’s library and the conscientious care of its librarian, but it was the best I could do in a morning. Now, the furniture needed addressing.
The door opened.
“Did you forget something, Pip?” I asked.
“I am not Pip.” Hugo strode into the middle of my library, dripping snow on the floorboards. His quirk of an eyebrow clearly noted my annoyance at the mess he was creating. Instead of moving, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Where do you see all of this going?”
“What? My rearranging?” I intentionally turned away from him to nudge my favorite chair closer to the window. Surveying my two remaining choices for Ryda’s seat, I tried to guess whether she would prefer an upholstered chair or a plain wooden one.
“No, letting Lady Ryda fight your battles.”
I whipped around, pulling myself up to my full height. “What are you saying?” I demanded. “Speak plainly.”
Hugo lowered his chin and glared at me. “You are hiding from Father behind Lady Ryda.”
I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe evenly. The frustrations of the past weeks roared forward, feeding my anger. “I have been arguing with Father about his ridiculous contract for a month now. A month! In all that time, I have made no progress. He stubbornly refuses to listen to reason, plain-speaking, or logic. I have done everything short of defying him. Then, she arrived. Within a day, she has an agreement with him, the terms of which I still haven’t learned. No, I am not hiding behind her. I am supporting her. Ryda doesn’t need me. I need her.”
My brother grunted. “And if she gets you thrown out of the household? Do you have a plan?”
“I support myself, Hugo. I have for years. Our finances would be tight, but I am not afraid of work. I wouldn’t be intending to offer for her hand unless I had a plan.”
Hugo glared harder. “You haven’t asked for her hand yet?”
I groaned. “Tell me when I had a chance. Last night? We were standing in the middle of a chaotic mob in the great hall. Hardly a moment to ask such a personal question.” I motioned toward the keep. “After she arrived while I was covered in sheep dung and mud? Not the best time either. However, I was planning on sending her an invitation to dine with me for lunch and ask then, but my meddling brothers keep interfering.”
“Mind your volume, Cris,” Rein commented as he entered the library, trailing more snow. “Lady Ryda and Pip are coming up the walk.”
“He has a plan.” Hugo grimaced at me while clearly addressing Rein. “Not much of one, but a plan all the same.”
“I told you he would. Did you request the food?”
“It will be here any minute.” Hugo nodded toward the kitchens. “Should we scrounge around and look to see what he has in the meantime?”
“Madam Wellworth sent over a roasted ham yesterday.” I swallowed my pride and wrestled with the sensation of being managed like a young child. “You are welcome to that. Might I be allowed to know why my home is being suddenly inundated?”
Rein shrugged out of his cloak as Hugo headed toward my kitchen. “Lady Ryda requested an opportunity to dine with you for the midday meal, and we are accommodating her request.”
“All of you?” What I desired to discuss with Ryda I had no intention of mentioning in front of my brothers.
Distantly the door opened, and Pip’s excited chatter filled the foyer. Ryda’s soft laugh followed.
“We shall be in the kitchen.” Rein shook his cloak before folding it over his arm. “Where the pair of you eat is up to you, seeing as it is your house. As long as you are within the next room or so, Father will have no right to complain.”
“About what?”
“That I am not performing my duty.”
Ryda stepped into the room. “Rein is my designated chaperone.”
Suddenly, the room was brighter. Bareheaded, her dark-golden hair hung over her shoulder in a long, thick braid. Unlike the first time I saw her, though, she was looking quite windblown. Rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, she smiled at me warmly. My whole being warmed. I had missed that smile.
“I have been nagging him all morning about coming to see you at noon. He finally gave in a half hour ago.”
I swallowed. My mind went blank. Somehow saying, “I had the same thought,” sounded so trite.
“Give him a moment,” Rein advised with a grin as he passed behind her to the foyer to hang up his cloak. “Hugo has been provoking him.”
“I was hoping you would come,” I finally managed while glaring at my brother’s back.
Ryda’s grin widened as she crossed to my now-lonely table in the library. She laid down the journal and the box I had given her. “I have a request.” She opened the box and selected three of the charcoal sticks. “These need sharpening, and I am told you are the best at it.”
“I do have some skill.” Crossing to the table, I pulled out the drawer where I kept my knives for that purpose. “What has my father set you to doing that requires so much writing?”
“Learning more about what your brothers do. I have to fulfill three tasks to be considered worthy of being his daughter-in-law, despite my station.” She dropped the three sticks into my hand before turning away to survey my shelves. “Meet all of your brothers, fully understand what they do, and demonstrate my own best skills.” She paused halfway along the wall. “Is this more Saruthian poetry?”
She pointed to the remainder of my collection after my gift to her. As her finger caressed the spines, my heart ached. This was wrong. My father had no right to require her to prove herself to him. It was my decision, not his.
“Be careful,” Rein warned as he entered with a tray of food, a snack to tempt her into eating more. “Cris might make you recite some of that poetry if you show any interest in it.”
“He already has.”
When I glanced over to make sure there were no hard feelings about asking her to sing, she flashed me a wink and a smile.
Setting down the tray on the table next to Ryda’s book, Rein crossed to my military section full of atlases and battle accounts from ages past. “Now this is more like it. Struggles for power and conflicts settled by violence, these are the best parts of his library.”
“I beg to differ.” She slid a volume of poetry from the shelf and opened it. Slips of paper fluttered to the floor. She elegantly knelt and began gathering them up. “Military history might show insight into the struggles of the nations and their leaders, but poetry and narrative offer insight into their hearts.”
Rein shook his head. “I much prefer strategy.”
“I am not surprised.” Ryda rose, my notes on slips of paper in her slender fingers. She tucked them gently back into the gutter of the page. “Emotions are difficult things to quantify. Even in writing and reading poetry, one doesn’t feel like the portrayal is adequate enough, no matter how hard one tries.” She nodded toward where Rein had indicated. “External conflict is much more straightforward.”
Finally, finding my tongue, I spoke. “I prefer to study both.”
Both of them turned toward me. Rein lifted his eyebrows as though to chastise my slowness to speak. However, Ryda’s warm smile made up for his irritation tenfold. Emboldened by her understanding, I continued.
“It is best to study both the interior and exterior of the man to understand him fully. It is hard to comprehend a man’s external action without also discerning his inward motivations.”
“True.” Ryda closed the book.
“Well, this man is very hungry,” Rein declared. “Motivated by that, I shall retire the field for the kitchen to consume my repast. You two enjoy this.” With a wave of his arm toward the tray on the table, he left, leaving the kitchen door ajar.
I worked on the charcoal sharpening while Ryda perused the rest of my bookshelves in silence. As I ran the knife along the stick again down the last nub, bringing it to a point, my mind mulled other things. If I pulled the table over to my favorite chair near the windows and moved a chair close for her, we could converse in relative privacy from the squatters in the kitchen.
“You didn’t indicate that my book was part of a set.” Ryda stepped close. Filling my senses with the scents of sunshine, oranges, and vanilla, she slid the second volume of the Saruthian poetry collection onto the table next to the tray. “It would be a shame to break up the set.”
Laying the charcoal in their box, I turned. She stood so close that I could feel the warmth she gave off, making me suddenly aware of the fact the room was cold. I hadn’t noted it in the least. It took all of my self-control not to touch her. Instead, I studied her face until she turned away.
“Here.” She pulled one of the linen napkins from the tray and dipped it in one of the cups of water. “Give me your hands, and I will wipe off the black.”
Obediently, I offered my hands, the fingers now gray by the charcoal as well as the remnants of dust from my morning of cleaning.
“I never intended to break them up. I couldn’t speak words of commitment, but I could offer hope.”
Her warm hand cradled mine. Hers was so small in comparison to mine. My brothers had always teased me about my hands’ largeness, calling them bear paws. Thankfully, Ryda didn’t seem to mind them, caressing them with her gentle cleaning.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Clean your hands?” She didn’t look up. “I know.”
“No, I mean to comply with my father’s demands. I am of age, with income and independence. Moving would be essential, but we could make our home anywhere you wish. Between my bees, my books, and my scribe skills, I can support you. Perhaps not in as much luxury as you are accustomed to, but—”
“Crispin.” She squeezed my hands before lifting her face to me. With glistening emerald eyes, she studied my features. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Yes.”
“Without your father’s permission?”
“Yes.” I struggled to take a breath. She hadn’t answered me yet. “I don’t have much, but—”
“Yes.”
“What?” I feared my ears had betrayed me.
“Yes, Crispin, I will marry you, but—”
I kissed her.
For months, I had dreamed of kissing her. Reality was far better than the dream.
