“Aye, love grants a weakness, for a man smitten with his wife – or any other – will do whatever is necessary to ensure that person’s welfare, even beyond reason.” Amaury’s voice hardened. “There are those, my lady, who willfully exploit such situations.” He paused. “As I fear you may already know.” He met her gaze steadily again. “I would forgo love, given my choice.”
Isabella did know of such men. She was the daughter of one, and with Amaury’s words, she recalled some incident in her childhood. It was the barest whisper of a recollection, for the event had been kept from her, but she would have sworn the Lady of Montvieux had been involved.
Amaury’s mother?
Had his parents been much enamored of each other? She was curious beyond all, but Amaury continued before she could ask.
“But then, you know little of me,” he continued easily, as if mistaking the reason for her lack of response. “How can you be expected to make a choice with no information? What shall I tell the lady to make my suit?” he asked, turning to the tallest of the boys.
That boy stepped forward and bowed to Isabella. “My name is Philip, my lady, and I have served my lord Amaury these nine years. I can vouch for his true nature. My lord is a man of temperate appetites, my lady. I have never seen him drunken and he does not whore.” He bowed again and stepped back into his place behind the knights.
A dark-haired knight stepped forward and bowed to her. He wore a patch over one eye and somehow looked a little less affluent than Amaury. “I am Luc Douglas, my lady, companion to Amaury these five years. I would assure you that he is a knight known to always keep his pledge. He is honorable above all other traits and the most reliable of comrades.”
The other dark-haired knight, who resembled this one strongly, nodded agreement. Even the tall fair knight nodded once in approval of the assessment.
“I cannot believe you would so indulge my sister,” Denis muttered. “She is not the one with choices!”
Amaury ignored him, turning again to Isabella. He dropped to one knee and stretched out a hand, his voice rising as if he would have everyone hear him. “Will you accept me as your husband, Lady Isabella, that we might rebuild Montvieux and fill its halls with sons?”
“I should think that two or three sons would suffice,” Isabella found herself saying and she flushed crimson when Amaury laughed aloud.
He rose to his feet and bowed to her again. “Indeed, my lady, you speak the truth.” He lifted a brow, waiting for her reply.
Isabella felt herself flush. “I consent, sir.”
She was unprepared for his sudden smile of triumph, or how handsome he appeared. He stood and offered that hand to her. “Come now to the chapel and let us pledge each to the other.”
“Now?” Isabella said without meaning to do as much.
“The chapel is razed,” Denis said.
“But the ground is sacred all the same. I see no cause for delay,” Amaury replied. “We have a list of tasks to embark upon and the sooner we commence, the better.”
“I would escort you to Château Marnis,” Denis protested. “That my father might witness the nuptials.”
“Your eyes will have to act as his,” Amaury said with resolve. “This union must begin now, the sooner that its goals might be achieved. I always knew I would pledge myself to a bride in the chapel of Montvieux and no other. It is tradition.” His voice rose. “My lady? I attend you.” There was a command in his tone, one that Isabella understood. She, too, wished for haste in making this vow, but not for the same reason.
Nay, she wanted to exchange vows with Amaury de Montvieux immediately, before he had any opportunity to change his mind.
There wasmuch to be investigated at Montvieux, to be sure, but first the primary challenge had to be met. The means of regaining the seal of Montvieux being offered to Amaury was by wedding Marnis’ spinster daughter. So be it. Lady Isabella might prove an asset who offered him insight into her father’s affairs and objectives, or she might have been offered so that she could become her father’s spy in Amaury’s household. Amaury did not particularly care. The only other option was to make war and seize Montvieux by force, but he did not command an army.
Yet.
If the lady had declined him, he would have turned his every effort to raising one.
He might do as much anyway, given the hostility of the Lord de Marnis’ son.
Denis was sleek and well-fed. He might have earned his spurs – perhaps from an indulgent uncle who was less of a taskmaster than might be ideal – but Amaury had low expectations of Denis’ fighting skills. Nay, Denis would be the one counting the coin in the treasury, or savoring the wine and fare at the board – and he would always be richly attired.
Amaury surreptitiously counted the number of Denis’ company, evaluating their readiness and the state of their weapons. There were precious few of them – though he was surprised to recognize an older man in the company.
Edmund had been in service to his father for all of Amaury’s life, yet here he was, looking as untrustworthy as ever and apparently now sworn to the Lord de Marnis. That man inclined his head, but Amaury only nodded in return. He wondered what Edmund knew of events at Montvieux but would ask him in privacy. Edmund’s accounts were always influenced by who could hear his words.
Edmund did look, however, somewhat more slender than Amaury recalled. Had there been famine or failed crops at Montvieux? Was there truth in Denis’ claims?
Amaury was amazed by Edmund’s presence and did not entirely welcome it. Amaury’s father had trusted Edmund. Father and son had argued over that often in the past, and Amaury had been certain of his triumph when he had departed.
He would never argue again with his father. The realization caught Amaury just as Lady Isabella slipped from her saddle and he winced at that harsh truth before he glanced up at her. She limped, as ever she had, but she looked up in the moment afterward, just in time to catch his grimace. Her features were composed, her expression as inscrutable as if she had been wrought of stone, her steady gaze fixed upon him.