Free Tori Phillips by Midsummer's Knight Page A

released a long breath. “At least, we know that Lady Katherine didn’t poison her last husband. God’s teeth, Jack! I wouldn’t have blamed her one whit if she had!”
    Jack untied his sleeves. “That slandered lady is blameless of the first one’s death, as well. I asked her chambermaid. Lewknor was in his eighties when he married Katherine. She was but fifteen at the time.”
    “A pox of wrinkles! What was her father thinking to shackle her to a dithering graybeard?” For the first time in nine days, Brandon gave a caring thought toward his intended bride.
    “Lewknor’s fortune.” Jack peeled off his brown velvet jacket, then tossed it onto the nearby chest. “Bodiam was originally Lewknor’s castle. The old man didn’t want a bride, he wanted a nursemaid. It took him eighteen months to finally cough his last.”
    “Leaving a rich, young widow.” Brandon resumed his contemplation of the fire.
    “Aye, and an avaricious father. Katherine was wed again before the turning of the year. For all his monstrous ways, Fitzhugh had a vast fortune in land and tenants in this shire. My congratulations, Cavendish. You are marrying a beautiful lady, who owns most of Sussex. ’Tis time you gave some thought to her.”
    Brandon glared over his shoulder at Jack. “What do you mean by that last remark?” he growled.
    Jack narrowed his eyes. “’Tis high time you pay court to your future wife. In the past week you have barely spoken to her save for courtesy.”
    Brandon tightened his fingers around his wine cup. “’Tis because I cannot get a word in edgewise with you singing, jabbering or composing rhymes to her,” he muttered.
    Jack hurled one of his stockings at Brandon. The smelly article hit him on the back of the neck. “I have been speaking and singing for you, you hedgepig. Remember? I have been wooing that innocent lady in your stead, while you go prancing off behind hedges with her comely cousin. ’Tis time to bring this charade to an end.”
    “Before you fall in love with Lady Katherine yourself?” Brandon asked softly, not looking at Jack. He didn’t need to.
    The fire crackled in the silence.
    “How I feel is mine own affair,” Jack finally replied. He climbed into the wide, canopied bed they shared and slipped between the sheets. “Look to yourself, Brandon. Katherine has been sorely used by her first two husbands. She does not deserve that fate a third time. In fact, I gave her my oath, in your name, that you would not.”
    Brandon spun around. “The devil take you, Stafford! I would never hurt her, no matter what. You should know that!”
    “Not with your hands, no, but what about your heart?” he asked from the depths of the bed. “And what about your children? When do you plan to surprise her with them? Think on that.”
    “Aye, I will.” Brandon set the cup down on a stool, then pulled his heavy wool cloak from the peg.
    Jack hitched himself up on his elbows. “How now, man? You need not go wake her, and tell her your secrets this minute. Tomorrow will suffice. She’ll need a good night’s sleep, before you reveal who you really are, then spring two nine-year-olds upon her.”
    “I will tell her about Belle and Francis in my own good time, and ’twill not be at breakfast—on that you may lay a winning wager.” Brandon fumbled for his golden brooch that held the cloak together, then swore under his breath when he recalled where it had gone.
    Jack’s frown penetrated the chamber’s semidarkness. “Where are you going? ’Tis near midnight.”
    “To the devil, for I am in hell already.” He flung open the door.
    Jack flopped back against the pillows. “Give him my regards, and don’t fall off the wall walk. ’Twould be a nasty swim in that stinking moat. I bid you a pleasant evening’s stroll.”
    “You were begot between two fishmongers!”
    “And shut the door behind you. The draft is bone chilling.”
    Brandon slammed it with a resounding thud.
    The night guard on the