“He will remind her of the obedience owed to a husband.”
Amelia laughed before she could stop herself.
Belmaine’s eyes snapped to her. “You find holy counsel amusing?”
“I find the timing ambitious.”
“You shame yourself.”
“No, Sir Roger. You brought a stranger to Ashcombe, called him my husband, locked me in a room, let him come in my chamber after me, and now you’re trying to sprinkle Latin over the whole mess until it smells less like kidnapping. Shame is busy elsewhere.”
Joan stared at the floor as if the rushes had become fascinating scripture.
Dame Margaret’s face showed nothing, but one hand tightened near the keys at her belt.
Belmaine stepped close enough that Amelia had to will herself not to step back. The cuffs on his expensive tunic were edged in embroidery.
“You are a landless woman with no kin,” he said softly. “No father. No brother. No husband save the one standing ready to claim you. Ashcombe has no lawful hold on you. I do.”
Fear moved through her body, swift and bright.
“Do you practice these speeches in a mirror?”
For one second, she thought he would strike her. But Belmaine was too careful for that, which somehow made him worse. Instead, he smiled. “You’ll be moved before dawn.”
Dame Margaret turned. “Moved?”
“To Crale’s keeping.”
The words went through Amelia like cold water.
Joan went pale as Dame Margaret stepped forward. “Sir Roger, that would be unwise while the claim remains disputed.”
“The claim is not disputed beneath this roof.”
“It will be disputed beyond it.”
“Not if she is restored to her husband’s home before Ashcombe gathers his wits.”
“Restored?” Amelia said. “That’s a pretty word for sold.”
Belmaine ignored her. “Father Martin will record that she was counseled. Dame Margaret, you’ll witness that she was treated gently. Joan will remember only what she’s told to remember.”
Joan’s chin jerked up.
Belmaine looked at her. “Won’t you?”
The girl swallowed. “Aye, Sir Roger.”
Belmaine gave a satisfied nod. “Mistress Crale, your husband will come for you after Compline. You would be wise to greet him meekly.”
“Would I?”
“Very.”
“I’ll put it on my list.”
His brows drew together. “Your list?”