“Janet. Her father was the Earl of Monmouth. He died some two years before my father supposedly had her beaten for her faithlessness.”
“Ah, so he had no fear of retribution.”
“No, my mother’s younger brother became earl, but he was too young to seek retribution. I have never seen my uncle.”
Lady Janet handed Severin another goblet of wine. “I trust you will like this one. It isn’t so sweet as the first. Naturally it comes from Normandy, though I did not realize any grapes would grow in that northerly climate.”
“Father lied,” Hastings said, sipping the new wine. “The wine comes from Aquitaine. I faced him with it several years ago after speaking with a wine merchant.” She laughed. “Anything and everything from William the Conqueror or Normandy, Father wanted to claim as his own. Just look at all our names.”
“It is a tradition of long standing,” Lady Janet said. “Mayhap it is written of somewhere at Oxborough and we will find it someday. It is time for dinner. I hope you will enjoy our cook’s food, Hastings. She isn’t MacDear, but I have taught her well.”
All the Oxborough men-at-arms were on their best behavior. There was no spitting into the rushes, no pummeling the dog, whose place was beside the fireplace, no belching. The meal was quite good. But conversation was difficult. Hastings was relieved when it was over.
The four girls were delighted to give their chamber to their sister and her husband. All of them wanted to sleep with their mother, a treat rarely granted.
“This is all very strange,” Severin said as he stripped off his clothing. The bedchamber was small but beautifully furnished with four trunks, each one covered with a thick brocade with a girl’s name on it. There were rugs on the floor. There was a screen in the corner and behind it a bathing tub. The bed was narrow, covered with a thick bear fur.
Severin was so self-sufficient, Hastings thought, watching him. Most men must have their page to assist them. He was also beautiful. She wondered if he was also thinking of what Rosehaven meant to him and his future.
“Aye,” she said, her fingers on the laces of her gown. “I have four sisters.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Shame? Mayhap he believed all would think him weak if they knew he hadn’t really killed his wife, but took her elsewhere and stayed with her.”
“It teases my brain, Hastings. But he must have realized that I would learn of this.”
“I must suppose that he believed a dead man wouldn’t care if he were reviled or praised. Shame would not be able to touch him.”
He grunted and climbed naked into the sweet-smelling bed. She pulled her gown over her head. “Where is Trist?”
“With the girls. I hope he does not swoon with all the adoration he is receiving with those four.”
She slipped into bed beside him.
“Why are you wearing your shift?”
“Your mind is far away from carnal thoughts, Severin. I did not wish to tempt you.”
He laughed and helped her pull the shift over her head. He threw it onto the floor. He was always very neat with his own clothing, but with hers—she sighed and curled up next to him.
“Tell me what we are going to do,” she said, kissing his shoulder.
“Rosehaven,” he said, even as he began to stroke her hair. “She named it Rosehaven because of her flowers. She gave you her joy and ability with herbs and plants.”
“Aye. Tomorrow she wants to show me the rose she named after me.”
“It has thorns, I doubt it not. Big ones.”
“I would not want to be a boring, placid sort of flower.”
“A thorn in my side,” he said, turning to face her. “Your mother has lived here for nearly ten years. It is her home. It is well protected. I have no idea what to do, Hastings.”
“We will ask her,” Hastings said. She didn’t stroke her hands over her husband. Indeed, her fists were against his chest. “My mother never cried when she heard my father was dead,” she said. “She did not even seem to care.”
“You do not know that. Today everything is too new to both of you. It will take time for you to know each other’s hearts again. Fret not about it now, Hastings, and love your husband.”
She did with pleasing enthusiasm.