Free The Virgin's War by Laura Andersen Page A

accepted and returned the greetings of the staff and board, Maisie made silent notes about personalities and how likely they were to be on her side in the battle to come. She had expected to have the entire household staff in her corner, for Robert had always been a difficult person to please in any matter. From a child, her brother had been rude to the maids and condescending to the grooms and men-at-arms. But apparently Robert had turned his eye to the household staff when he inherited the business, and fully half of them were new to Maisie. It was easy to pick them out—they all had a slight air of slovenliness. And of the men-at-arms present, only a few were familiar. She did not like the look of the rest at all—hard and indifferent and cruel.
    The board, however, had been largely beyond Robert’s control. So Maisie was greeted with genuine affection even by those men who would likely oppose her ambitions simply because she was female. That was all right—she could deal with that sort of response. And she had the tacit support of the most important ones already; not only Andrew Boyd, but the four who had served longest with her grandfather. They knew where the brains had gone in this family.
    Sulkily, Robert welcomed her home, his discontent plain. “Why did you stay away so long? We expected you to return soon after your husband’s death.”
    “Did you? I must have missed your letter of condolence.”
    He might be completely unsuited for the task of running a large merchant concern, but Robert had his own native cunning. “You miss only what you do not want to see. Still, you are here now. We can begin to make plans for the next wedding.”
    “A wedding! Congratulations, Robert. I cannot wait to meet the…fortunate woman.”
    “You know I mean you. There are men aplenty interested in what money you can bring them. So many, that this time we can afford to place a higher price on you.” With an ugly smile, he leaned in and said, more softly, “You see, sister, how I have learned this business. You are a commodity. All I have to do is find the highest bidder.”
    Despite expecting it, Maisie found herself shaken at the venom. But she was nothing if not always controlled. “I am no longer fifteen, Robert. I think you will be surprised by what price I command.”
    She turned away, and smiling brightly at Andrew Boyd, said, “Shall we go in? No doubt there is a meal prepared…and then we have much to discuss.”
    The discussions begun at table that day were not meant to force a confrontation, but to subtly shape the tone of the conversations to come. Everyone except Robert was eager to hear the stories from her travels, and Maisie knew precisely what to highlight in her recitations. Not just the prices and markets of various cities, but the personalities: gossip about who was sleeping with whom and whose son was being forced into an inconvenient marriage and whose brother was working for the opposition. There were stories of the continuing war in the Low Countries and French suspicion of Spain’s increasing aggressiveness.
    “Both Scotland and England should give thanks for the native enmity between France and Spain,” Maisie concluded. “If ever they combined their might, our island would be hard-pressed to resist.”
    “Like Ireland?” Robert said nastily. He had been drinking a great deal.
    She met his eyes steadily. “Yes. Very much like Ireland.”
    “You had no trouble opposing the English there.”
    Not all the English, she thought. But would never say. Stephen belonged to a separate part of her life, one she did not intend to share with anyone. He belonged to Cahir Castle and Oliver Dane and Liadan—and to Ailis Kavanaugh most of all.
    Her first day back in Edinburgh ended in her bedchamber of old. Maisie was surprised and pleased to see it had not been altered in her absence and suspected she owed that to the housekeeper. The initial homecoming had gone well, she thought critically. She had