Free Marriage Under Siege by Anne O'Brien Page B

enough. But why?'
    'My lady needs someone to
talk to.'
    'So she isn't talking to
you?' Josh looked at his friend with interested speculation.
    All he received was a flat
stare. 'Not yet.' And with that he had to be content.
    Satisfied with the outcome
of the visit, Mansell set out for Wigmore. Any lingering pleasant thoughts were
quickly driven out of his mind at Wigmore, a towering fortress on a rocky
outcrop, guarding the route from Hereford to the north. Another medieval
stronghold, able to withstand any attack, as the steward there was quick to
inform him. No enemy could creep up undetected and they could easily be
repulsed by the heavy walls and towers.
    'But we need manpower, my
lord Mansell. How can we hold off even the smallest force with only a handful
of elderly servants and the kitchen maids?'
    Mansell did not know the
answer. And Brampton Percy was in no better state, notwithstanding the strength
of its manmade fortifications.
    He turned his horse's head
wearily for home, deciding against a courtesy call at Croft Castle. He did not
feel up to fielding questions from Sir William about his proposed marriage and
his alienation from county sympathies. He would go home. And marry Honoria, for
good or ill.
    Meanwhile the lady of
Brampton Percy had spent her time equally profitably, hiring in girls from the
village to tackle the more immediate problems. If she regretted her newly
affianced lord's absences from the castle, she did not admit it. Not even to
herself. Instead, since escape to Leintwardine had been deliberately put to one
side, she poured her energies into the deficiencies of her personal nightmare.
Changes gradually became evident at the castle, most dramatically when her lord
returned from a wet and trying day spent in assessing the distant acres of the
manor of Burrington . Foxton and Honoria were engaged
in directing Robert, who was perched on a precarious ladder with a mop, in
cleaning cobwebs from the ceiling in one of the darker passages leading from
the Great Hall. Surrounded by dust and spiders, they were unaware of their
lord's return until disturbed by a distinctly male and angry outburst from
somewhere in the upper regions of the house.
    'Perhaps I should...'
Foxton turned nobly to discover the problem.
    'No.' Honoria sighed a
little. 'I will go. After all, I initiated the problem, whatever it is. I think
I can guess.'
    She trod the stairs,
Morrighan at her heels, to find her betrothed at the head of the staircase,
still clad in boots and cloak, dripping puddles on the floor from a sodden hat
clenched in one fist, glowering at one of the new serving girls who was
speechless in terror at being accosted by the master of the house in an
uncertain temper. Mansell immediately rounded on his lady, eyes full of
temper, his hands fisted on his hips in a gesture of true male arrogance.
    'Perhaps you could explain
to me, my lady, why the bed and window hangings have apparently disappeared
from my room!' He did not wait for an answer. 'The chests and the clothes press
are empty and it is as cold as the very devil in there with no fire laid, much
less lit. There seems to be no one available to bring ale and food...and yet I
seem to be falling over housemaids at every step, silly girls who tremble as if
I would beat them when I ask a civil question. What is happening around here?'
The wolfhound stiffened and growled at the implied threat in his lordship's
raised voice. 'And I am beset by this animal. Quiet!' Morrighan dropped to a
crouch beside Honoria's skirts, hackles still raised, the growl subsiding to a
low rumble. She continued to watch Mansell with narrowed eyes.
    Honoria waited for the
tirade to end, struggling to hide a smile. Then, as he ran out of complaints,
she risked a glance at his face. Amusement drained away. All she could see was
the imprint of weariness and strain, the grey eyes dark and troubled. And she
felt inadequate to help him.
    'The room you have been
occupying was not suitable, my