Rhys smile vanished entirely. He opened his mouth to reply but his mother rounded the corner at that moment with Maddoc in her arms and everyone’s attention was diverted, including Rhys. He resumed smiling at his son until his mother walked up to Elizabeau and extended the child to her.
“My lady,” she said. “I do not believe you’ve had the chance to meet your son yet. This is Maddoc du Bois, Rhys’ son. He now belongs to you as well.”
Elizabeau’s gentle expression became something of a grimace of shock. Lady Orlaith was extending the boy and for lack of a better reaction, Elizabeau simply reached out and took him. It was the first chance she’d had to get a good look at the boy and, for several long moments, they simply stared at each other. Maddoc had his father’s coloring exactly; nearly black hair and brilliant blue eyes. He was a gorgeous child and as Elizabeau struggled to say something to him, Rhys stood up.
“Mother,” he admonished softly. “They have not even met. I’m not sure that was an appropriate introduction for either of them.”
Orlaith was defiant in her reaction. “There is no harm in it. They must come to know each other sooner or later.” She moved away from the table, waving her hands at Carys as she went. “Come along, young woman. Lend a hand.”
Carys dutifully rose and followed her mother from the hall. They could hear Orlaith in the kitchens beyond, gently barking orders to both her daughter and the servants. Rhys came to stand next to Elizabeau, watching the expression on her face and his son’s face. Neither one of them seemed particularly at ease and he took pity on them.
“Here,” he held out his hands to the boy. “I’ll take him.”
Elizabeau shook her head, still gazing at the child. “That is not necessary,” she set him down gently on the ground and took his little hand. “We shall become great friends, Maddoc and I.”
Rhys looked at her, feeling a strange and unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He would have liked nothing better than for Maddoc and Elizabeau to become fond of each other. But it wasn’t a good idea, on many levels.
“You do not have to…” he began.
She cut him off, crouching beside Maddoc so she could look him in the eye. “Maddoc, do you like horses?”
The child nodded hesitantly. “Aye.”
“Would you like to go outside and see the horses?”
He put a finger in his mouth, chewing. “Aye.”
Elizabeau stood up and, with a lingering glance at Rhys, led Maddoc outside into the sunshine. Rhys started to follow but his uncle stopped him.
“Help an old man to stand,” he commanded his nephew, who dutifully helped his uncle rise from the bench. Rhett grabbed the enormous cane that was propped against the side of the table. “Let us attend your new wife as she becomes accustomed to your child and we can speak more on things regarding London.”
Rhys watched his uncle struggle with his gait; his walking was worse than he had remembered. Being injured in battle many years ago, coupled with a disease of the joints, had rendered the once-powerful man nearly immobile. But still, Rhett struggled through it with his usual resolve. The man was, if nothing else, determined.
“Nothing much is happening in London,” Rhys said casually as they headed for the door. “I’m more interested to know what has happened around here.”
Rhett snorted. “Nothing worth discussing,” he replied. “Carys had a suitor a few weeks ago, but Renard chased the lad off. He was just a peasant boy, but he adores Carys.”
Rhys smiled weakly as they walked into the bailey, basking in the bright sunlight. “She is sixteen years now. Renard will have to come to grips with the fact that his only daughter must soon find a husband.”
“Aye, but not a peasant boy,” Rhett scoffed. “Now, in my day, I had every noble woman in London pursuing me at one time or another. Most of them were trollops but a few were worth the effort.” He eyed Elizabeau in the distance, kneeling with Maddoc beside a patch of weeds on her way to the barn. “I would wager to say that your Lady Julianna was worth the effort, eh?”
Lying to his family was one thing. But Rhett had been a great knight once and Rhys knew the man could keep a secret. In fact, he almost felt a burning desire to tell him, someone to help share this burden with him. He was becoming too emotionally involved and it would be wise, in his estimation, to have someone without emotional investment in the matter knowing the situation. Perhaps it would help him think more clearly.
“She is worth every effort,” he muttered. “And she is not my wife.”
Rhett looked at him, not particularly surprised. He knew his nephew was entrenched deep in the heart of England’s politics where things on the surface were not always what they appeared to be. He was perhaps the only person in the family aside from his brother Berwyn and Rhys’ brother, Rod, who truly understood that.