Free By His Majesty's Grace by Jennifer Blake

solution. He could take possession of the income from their estates, arrange suitable marriages for payment of a reasonable bride price or, at his discretion, accept a handsome recompense to allow them to avoid matrimony.
    Isabel had not been given the last choice. She could only suppose it was because she, with her portion of her father’s wealth, was Henry’s idea of an appropriate prize for his companion in arms.
    Who he might consider deserving of Cate’s and Marguerite’s dowries and their hands was still in doubt. They awaited his decision while putting their trust in the curse.
    “Graydon returned with you?” Cate asked, continuing at Isabel’s nod. “He must be laughing up his sleeve at the turn of events.”
    “As you say. He was quite blithe on the return journey. I heard him humming as he rode.”
    “Perhaps he will speak to the king,” Marguerite said, “saying we are too dangerous to be given in wedlock.”
    Their stepbrother, having grown up thinking of the vast estates inherited by Isabel and her sisters as his own fiefdom, had been enraged at the idea of losing control of it. He had stormed up and down Graydon Hall, cursing the laws of consanguinity, which prevented him from marrying one of them to preserve at least a portion of it—as his stepsisters, marriage between them was forbidden by the church as surely as if they had been blood sisters. Rather than remain at Graydon while the three of them disported themselves at court, he had journeyed with them to better keep them under his thumb. As the weeks and months passed, however, he seemed to grow accustomed to the idea that they would marry. He was even heard to say that giving up his wardship was a gesture of loyalty to the crown which would redound to his benefit. Falling in with a handful of other malcontents, he spent his time gaming and hunting, drinking and wenching. Isabel could only be glad that he was not expending his energy on more dangerous pastimes, such as plotting sedition.
    “Always expecting a way out of dire straits,” she teased with a bright look for her younger sister as she lifted her hair and ran a cool cloth over the back of her neck. “You would never agree, I suppose, that we may bend circumstances to our own desires?”
    “As to that, you’ve managed it for us often enough, dear Isabel. Take the way you made Graydon believe it his idea that we should be taught by the nuns, a most marvelous escape.” Marguerite caught the edge of her veil, chewing on a corner in a habit from childhood. “But was this the same? I mean, was it also a marvelous escape?”
    “Yes, how did this Braesford strike you as a husband?” Cate demanded. “What was he like?”
    “Were you glad or sorry to be whisked away before the wedding?” Marguerite added.
    “We demand to know all!”
    Isabel looked from one sister to the other, trying to decide how to answer. It seemed important, for some reason, to be fair.
    “He is an interesting man, and a strong one,” she said finally. “It isn’t difficult to see how Henry came to reward him for his service to the crown.” She turned away, rummaging for a clean shift in her trunk, which had been set at the foot of the bed.
    “That’s all very well, but what did he look like?” Marguerite asked with some asperity. “Was he handsome? Did he live up to the description given you before you left? Was he the image of knighthood?”
    “Don’t be absurd.”
    “No, but surely you can find more to say than that he’s strong and deserving!” Cate protested.
    Isabel made no answer as her serving woman swept into the room at that moment, bringing with her a gown of gold velvet that she had taken to the kitchens to steam away its wrinkles. Gwynne, who had looked after them since they were children, as she had looked after their mother before she died, was greeted with nearly as many hugs and exclamations as Isabel had been given. When things had quieted again, and Gwynne was lacing up the back