“Marjorie, Lord Lockwood brought you a betrothal gift,” she exclaimed, bringing her hands together in delight. “Isn’t that thoughtful of him?”
Jeremy felt heat rise in his face. He’d forgotten all about it and was embarrassed to have to be reminded. Marjorie looked surprised, her eyes widening at the mention of a gift.
“Yes, I have,” he confessed. “I do hope you like it.”
Jeremy withdrew the small leather pouch from a purse he wore at his belt and held it out to Marjorie, who took it shyly. She pulled open the pouch and extracted the lovely hummingbird pin, worked in gold and adorned with rubies and emeralds. The gemstones were tiny, but the light from the window reflected off the stones making the hummingbird glow richly in Marjorie’s pale hand.
“Oh, that is lovely,” Mistress Ashcombe exclaimed. “Do say you like it, Marjorie.”
Marjorie stared down at the pin, several emotions passing over her face. It was obvious she found the pin pleasing, but its beauty seemed to repulse her. “It’s a lovely gift, my lord, and I thank you, but I’m afraid I cannot accept it. It’s way too extravagant.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I prefer modest, serviceable attire, as you can plainly see,” Marjorie said. “I would have no occasion to wear something this fine. Please, take no offense, my lord,” she added when she noticed Jeremy’s crestfallen expression.
“I understand. My future gifts will be more in line with your beliefs,” Jeremy said.
“Pray, sir, give me no gifts. If you’ve coin to spare, give it to the needy. Such generosity will gladden my heart.” Marjorie looked animated, her eyes bright with fervor.
“I’ll gladly honor your wishes, madam,” Jeremy replied. He admired her devotion to charity but thought it churlish to refuse his gift. She could have simply accepted it and hidden it in some keepsake box, never to be worn, but she was clearly a woman of strong opinions, not a character trait he disapproved of as a rule.
“I suppose the next time we meet will be on our wedding day,” Jeremy said as he stood to take his leave.
Marjorie nodded. “If the good Lord wills it.”
I hope the good Lord wills me to have a cockstand on my wedding night, Jeremy thought bitterly as he vaulted into the saddle of his borrowed horse. Because right now, it’s as limp as a dishrag.
He sighed heavily, imagining his father’s reaction to this unscheduled visit to his bride. It had been a mistake to come alone. He should have come with his father, or Walter, who’d know exactly how to steer the conversation into safer waters. Well, at least now he knew what to expect, he thought with a sinking heart. The prospect of spending his life with Marjorie Ashcombe was about as appealing as leaping into a roaring pyre, but no amount of arguing would induce his father to break off the betrothal. It was a marriage of convenience, beneficial to both parties. No one had ever made it out to be more, and Jeremy would not be the first nor the last man to marry to further the interests of his family. He and Marjorie would learn to coexist, as so many other noble couples did.
When Jeremy returned to the village to collect his horse, he saw no sign of Alys and didn’t think it appropriate to go looking for her. He could cause the poor girl all sorts of trouble. Instead, he collected his horse, paid Will Bailey, and turned for home. As he cantered away from Ashcombe, he was still thinking of Alys and hoped he’d see her again.
Chapter 11
Alys
Alys was just taking the loaves out of the bread oven when Will came into the house, looking very pleased with himself. He’d had a most profitable day, thanks to Master Lockwood and his horse. Will held up the coins, showing them proudly to his wife and sister before adding them to the tin where he kept their life savings and rattling it happily, then hiding it behind the loose stone in the hearth.
Bess smiled proudly, as if Will were somehow responsible for his good fortune. “Did Master Lockwood tell ye what business he had at the house?” she asked, curious as ever.
“No, and I didn’t ask. He was well dressed and had a full purse; that’s all I know. Anyway, he’s gone now.”
“Are ye ready to sup, then?” Bess asked as she set the pewter plates on the table.
“In a minute,” Will replied. “Master Selby is here to see Alys. He’d like to speak to her privately.” Will cast a meaningful look in Alys’s direction. “Bess, my dear, why don’t we step outside for a breath of air,” he suggested.
Bess wiped her hands on her apron and followed Will out the door, but not before giving Alys a warning glance.
“Good evening, Alys,” John said as he came in and shut the door behind him. His presence seemed to fill the house, and Alys took a step back, standing dangerously close to the hearth, her backside uncomfortably warm. John swept off his hat and kneaded it nervously with his hands.
“Good evening, Master Selby,” Alys replied. She moved away from the hearth before her skirts could catch fire and stepped around the table, putting some distance between them.
“Please, call me John. We are to be wed, after all.”
“Are we?” Alys asked coolly.
“Has Will not spoken to ye, then?”
“He has, but I would have thought a man would give the woman he wishes to marry the courtesy of asking her as well.”
“I didn’t think I should trouble ye until I had yer brother’s consent. And I do,” John Selby added. He
