They are prone to damp and mildew, as you must be aware.’
I definitely should not have asked. But nevertheless he was drawn into an answering smile at her resourcefulness in seizing the opportunity his casual comment offered.
‘Before or after our marriage?’
‘Whatever is convenient to you, my lord.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Oh, no. But the rest will keep.’ Honoria folded her hands before her, eyes downcast, lips curved in a demure smile, all complaisance again.
‘You are enjoying this, are you not?’
‘Why, yes. I suppose I am.’ He laughed aloud at the faint look of surprise on her face as she considered his observation.
‘It seems you have a talent for it. I expect I shall find more changes tomorrow.’
‘Undoubtedly.’
He grunted. ‘Before you go, I have a present for you.’
He hefted his saddle bags to the bed and searched through one of the pouches. ‘Mistress James from Eyton sent this for you with her best wishes. Made by her bees last year. I think it has not leaked—at least it does not feel sticky.’ He lifted it gingerly.
Honoria took the little pottery jar of honey, ran her fingers over its smooth surface. ‘How kind of her. I do not even know her. I have never been to Eyton.’
‘Oh, yes, and also this.’ Mansell searched in his pockets to finally extract a flat but uneven packet, well tied and sealed, which he handed over. ‘I know not its contents, but Mistress James suggested that you speak with Mistress Brierly, the cook, about it. Women’s matters, I presume.’
Honoria sniffed at the pleasantly spicy aroma that came with the package and fingered the bulky outlines beneath the paper. ‘I have no idea—perhaps some herbal remedies. I know nothing of such things, so I will follow Mistress James’s advice. But as for the honey … If you care for mulled ale, my lord, I will use it now.’
‘Thank you.’ He hesitated a moment. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I do not deserve your kindness?’ He took hold of her wrist, pulled her gently towards him, and searched her face closely. And why do I get the feeling that I am being managed, along with the rest of the house? It pleased him to see a hint of colour in her cheeks and less anxiety in her eyes. He also took note of the cobweb adhering to one of her ringlets and the dust that clung to her cuffs and the hem of her gown. It struck him that she was dressed more in keeping with his housekeeper than the Lady of Brampton Percy.
‘Don’t tire yourself,’ he advised lightly, unsure of her reaction. ‘It is a major task you have undertaken. Let Foxton and Mistress Morgan take the burden.’
‘But they do. Mistress Morgan is the most efficient of housekeepers and the servants are most willing.’ Honoria stood quietly, more than a little aware of the light clasp of his fingers. She swallowed carefully against the rapid beat of her pulse, trying to keep her voice even. ‘I think that they welcome a change of lord, although they would not say so to me.’
Mansell shrugged. ‘I would like to take you to my home in Suffolk. You would not have to work hard there.’
‘I should like that.’ She smiled shyly up at him, touched by his thoughtful concern for her well-being.
Brushing away the cobweb, he bent his head to press his lips to her wrist. She did not pull away this time. But he felt her pulse pick up its rhythm beneath the warmth of his mouth. He lifted his head. ‘Thank you, Honoria. I like the changes you have made. I apologise for my boorish humour.’
‘There is no need, my lord.’
He would have pulled her closer still, to transfer his kiss from her wrist to her soft lips, so close, so tempting … He had never even kissed her, he suddenly realised! Even when she had promised to be his bride. Struck uncomfortably by the omission, he would have lowered his mouth to hers. But she pulled back and escaped his loosened hold, colour deepening in her face.
‘I will have food brought when you are ready, my lord.’
His eyes followed her speculatively as she hurried from his room.
Chapter Four
Within the week the Reverend Gower was presiding over another service in St Barnabas’s Church at Brampton Percy. He had expressed his opinions over such a speedy remarriage of the Widow as forcefully as he dare. Most unseemly, of course, in the circumstances, Lord Edward being dead less than a month, even if the Bishop of Hereford saw fit to issue a special licence. What was the world coming to when the dictates of God and Crown were held in such disrespect what with the law and order in the countryside going to rack and ruin and no honest man able to travel except in fear of his life? And now the new lord treating the laws of God in such a cavalier fashion and Lady Mansell herself willing to be a party to his schemes … But as the incumbent of a church in Lord Mansell’s gift, even God’s servant must be aware that it would not pay him to voice his disfavour too strongly if he valued his living.
Thus he presided over the marriage of Francis Brampton, Lord Mansell, and Honoria Mansell, previously Honoria Ingram, ably supported by Sir Joshua Hopton and his lively sister Mary. Given the depth of cold in the church, all the participants were well shrouded in cloaks, but it could be noticed by anyone sufficiently interested in so trivial a matter that the bride, in spite of her recent bereavement, did not wear black. It was indeed noticed and approved with a wry twist of the lips.
The service was brief and stark, the ceremonial kiss a mere cold and formal meeting of lips. Honoria found it hard to cling to reality, even as she tried to concentrate on the Reverend Gower’s reluctant blessing. Only the firm clasp of Mansell’s hand on hers kept her anchored to the fact that she was once more a bride.
The bridal party returned to the Great Hall of the castle to some semblance of festivities. The servants and the tenants of the cottages of Brampton Percy had been invited and so were present in force to enjoy the food and wish their lord and lady well. Ale, far superior to Lord Edward’s dwindling casks and brought from Ludlow under Sir Joshua’s escort, flowed freely and some local musicians had been hired to lighten the atmosphere with shawms and drums.
Honoria too had been busy, with Master Foxton’s willing help. The Hall had been restored to glory: vast logs set for a fire that would do justice to the size and height of the room, furniture arranged and more screens unearthed from the cellars to do battle against the draughts. It was a more cheerful occasion than the burial the previous week and, although it was not graced by any of the county families, it was thought by all present to be most satisfactory. And not least by Lord Mansell. Under the influence of ale and music the natural reticence of the tenants soon wore off, giving their new lord a useful opportunity to further his acquaintance and put names to faces.
‘So you have indeed married the widow!’ Catching him in a quiet moment, Sir Joshua raised his tankard in a silent toast to his friend and host. ‘I will not ask you if you know what you are doing.’
‘Tactful at last, Josh?’
‘No. You must have had your reasons.’ He grinned disarmingly. ‘Does your lady realise that your views are diametrically opposed in relation to our esteemed monarch?’
‘She does, of course. She is no fool, nor is she ignorant of the state of the county. But we are hoping that it will not cause unnecessary dissension between us. Why should it, after all?’
‘I have heard rumour. Your neighbours are beginning to see you with suspicion and there is talk of removing those who might upset the close unity hereabouts.’ Josh’s cheerful face was marred by lines of concern. ‘It might just come to a matter of arms. There are any number of extremists willing to put the matter to the sword.’
‘I know it. I too have heard such murmurings.’ Sir Francis eyed his glass of wine thoughtfully as he voiced his present concern for the first