Baron Geoffrey’s face eased and he stepped away from the bed. ‘Made it difficult last night, did it, this lack of understanding?’
Oliver spread his hands. ‘What need for words?’
The baron’s bark of laughter echoed round the walls.
‘Cousin,’ Oliver smiled. ‘I confess you have whetted my curiosity. Am I to know the identity of my bride?’
‘There is a proviso, lad...’
‘I assumed there would be,’ Oliver said, dryly. ‘Nothing comes free in this life.’
‘How true, dear cousin, how true.’ Sir Geoffrey gave a decisive nod. ‘I will dub you knight, cousin, on condition that you wed my sister.’
Oliver’s brow wrinkled. ‘Isn’t Lady Blanche promised elsewhere?’
A smile lifted the corner of Sir Geoffrey’s mouth. Rosamund didn’t like the look of it, and her mind raced. She knew it was nothing to do with her, none the less she didn’t want Oliver to marry. However, she could see that from his point of view, marriage to Sir Geoffrey’s sister would be like a gift from heaven.
There was more though – Sir Geoffrey wasn’t being entirely straight. There was something unpleasant behind his apparent generosity, something which he was taking care not to mention...
‘You are presumptuous, Oliver,’ he said. ‘I was speaking of Cecily, not Blanche. It is Cecily I would have you wed.’
There was a heavy silence, and Oliver’s face went blank. Yes, something here was very wrong. Oliver was wearing the face that appeared whenever he was struggling to hide some deep emotion. Watching him, Rosamund felt a pang of sympathy. Sir Geoffrey was offering to further his ambitions, but Oliver was going to have to pay a hefty price.
As the silence drew out the hairs lifted on Rosamund’s neck. What was that price?
‘Cecily. I see,’ Oliver said, in resigned tones. ‘In order to achieve my knighthood I must wed your sister Cecily.’ He shook his head.
‘Her birth’s better than yours.’
‘Without doubt, but...Cecily?’ Oliver was clearly at a loss for words.
Sir Geoffrey made a sound of exasperation. ‘That wasn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for.’
‘My apologies, cousin, but...Lady Cecily is...hell burn you, the girl bolts like a frightened colt every time I go near her, I haven’t had a word out of her in two weeks.’
‘It takes time, she’s not used to you.’
‘It will take more than time to mend what ails her.’
‘You refuse?’
‘I haven’t said so.’ Oliver glanced at Rosamund and scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘Mon Dieu.’
The Lord of Ingerthorpe narrowed his eyes. ‘Oliver, when I told you I didn’t expect complete fidelity I wasn’t suggesting that you should betray your knightly oath to me, your lord.’
Oliver’s head shot round. ‘Cousin?’
The baron gestured at Rosamund. ‘It was your wedding vows I was referring to. No-one could expect you to keep them, not with Cecily as your wife. But I must find her a husband. I want her safe and you’re kin. You’ll be as kind to her as any man alive. No, my lad, I wouldn’t expect any man to be faithful to Cecily. In my view, a knight is answerable to his lord alone. Keep faith to me, serve me well, and as far as I’m concerned you may take your pleasure where you choose.’
Oliver scowled.
‘Well, what do you say? Will you take Cecily to wife?’
Rosamund gripped the linen sheet.
‘Lord, that girl has speaking eyes.’ Sir Geoffrey said. His tone was cynical. ‘I can see you might not need words with her. Very well, if it’ll seal the deal, I’ll throw in the girl. You can have the knighthood you covet and this wench if you marry Cecily.’
‘But, my lord,’ Rosamund had to speak up. ‘I’m married to Alfwold!’
The baron drew himself up to his full height. ‘I think, my dear, you are in danger of forgetting who is Lord of Ingerthorpe.’
Cold sweat prickled down her back. ‘No, my lord, I have not forgotten, but-’
‘What is your name?’
‘Rosamund.’
‘Rosamund, I am lord here and I’ll not have a drab of a girl dictate terms.’ He turned back to Oliver, who was watching them, flexing and unflexing his fingers. ‘Your answer, cousin?’
‘I accept your terms. All of them.’ Oliver said, curtly. His face was well guarded, but she knew from his tone that he was holding back anger – Oliver didn’t like being forced any more than his lord.
Sir Geoffrey grinned and clapped Oliver on the shoulder. ‘I knew you were my man. Here’s my hand on it, we are agreed.’