that warned Catherine not to
pursue that particular line of questioning. “We were discussing my
quarrel with Eustace.”
“Yes,” Catherine said. “Please continue.”
“My uncle had one son and a daughter, my
cousin Linette. My male cousin treated me with contempt, but
Linette was always kind to me.”
Here Braedon fell silent again, pausing for
so long that Catherine began to worry that he would say he loved
his cousin and would never care for any other woman. She told
herself she was being foolish; Braedon's feelings for his cousin
were no concern of hers.
“All Linette ever wanted was to enter a
convent,” Braedon said. “But my uncle decided his interests would
be best served by marrying both of his children into important
families. He was rich enough to achieve his goal, so when Linette
was fourteen, against her wishes, he arranged a marriage for
her.”
“That sounds like Lord Phelan,” Catherine
said. “He did the same thing to his daughter when she was young,
and then tried to marry her off for a second time as soon as she
was widowed. Noblemen as well as commoners sometimes use their
children as pawns.”
“Linette never married,” Braedon said in a
cold, hard voice. “Before the ceremony could take place she was
raped by Eustace of Sutton.”
“Dear heaven.” Catherine's hand was pressed
against her throat, and then against her left cheek as her own
violent memories of Eustace’s brutality flooded back. She swallowed
hard, knowing she could never tell Braedon – or her father, either
– what Eustace had done to her. Telling either man would only lead
to new violence and she did not want that.
“Oh, Braedon, that poor girl. How unspeakably
horrible.”
“The deed was made even more horrible because
men at my uncle's level of society cannot avenge the wrongs done to
their daughters by noblemen. Nor did her brother dare to challenge
Eustace.
“Linette was considered damaged goods after
that,” Braedon continued. “Until the day he died my uncle refused
even to speak to her, so enraged was he by the enforced termination
of his plan to marry her off for his own advantage.”
“Cruel father!” Catherine exclaimed. “How can
a man abandon his child for something that was not her fault?
Braedon, where is Linette now? If she is in need of shelter, I will
take her in and make her welcome here.”
“You would do that? You have a generous
heart, Lady Catherine. But there is no need.
One good did come out of the unforgivable
damage done to an innocent soul. When I learned what had happened
to Linette, I applied directly to my father for justice. He
provided a dowry for her, and interceded with an important abbess,
who agreed to take Linette into the convent she heads. As soon as
Linette recovered from her bodily injuries I personally escorted
her to the convent, where the abbess received her with great
kindness. As far as I can tell on the infrequent occasions when my
duties allow me to visit her, Linette is at peace. But she ought
not to have suffered as she did. I will never forgive Eustace for
his evil deed, and I will gladly kill him when the opportunity
arises – as I am sure it will arise, given his vile character.”
“Was it you who challenged Eustace just now?”
Catherine asked. “Or he who challenged you?”
“It was Eustace, drunk and boasting as usual,
who began the fight,” Braedon answered. “I was sorely tempted to
kill him. But I am Royce's guest, and there are other reasons to
wait.”
“What reasons?” Catherine asked.
“Well, for one, he was drunk. I don't want to
be accused of slaying a man who is too far gone in his cups to
defend himself properly. For my own honor's sake, I would much
prefer to meet him during the melee when, presumably, he will be
alert and sober.”
“That's a wise decision on your part,”
Catherine said. “But do take care when you meet him. Drunk or
sober, Eustace is not above trickery.”
“I will be careful. I thank you for
pursue that particular line of questioning. “We were discussing my
quarrel with Eustace.”
“Yes,” Catherine said. “Please continue.”
“My uncle had one son and a daughter, my
cousin Linette. My male cousin treated me with contempt, but
Linette was always kind to me.”
Here Braedon fell silent again, pausing for
so long that Catherine began to worry that he would say he loved
his cousin and would never care for any other woman. She told
herself she was being foolish; Braedon's feelings for his cousin
were no concern of hers.
“All Linette ever wanted was to enter a
convent,” Braedon said. “But my uncle decided his interests would
be best served by marrying both of his children into important
families. He was rich enough to achieve his goal, so when Linette
was fourteen, against her wishes, he arranged a marriage for
her.”
“That sounds like Lord Phelan,” Catherine
said. “He did the same thing to his daughter when she was young,
and then tried to marry her off for a second time as soon as she
was widowed. Noblemen as well as commoners sometimes use their
children as pawns.”
“Linette never married,” Braedon said in a
cold, hard voice. “Before the ceremony could take place she was
raped by Eustace of Sutton.”
“Dear heaven.” Catherine's hand was pressed
against her throat, and then against her left cheek as her own
violent memories of Eustace’s brutality flooded back. She swallowed
hard, knowing she could never tell Braedon – or her father, either
– what Eustace had done to her. Telling either man would only lead
to new violence and she did not want that.
“Oh, Braedon, that poor girl. How unspeakably
horrible.”
“The deed was made even more horrible because
men at my uncle's level of society cannot avenge the wrongs done to
their daughters by noblemen. Nor did her brother dare to challenge
Eustace.
“Linette was considered damaged goods after
that,” Braedon continued. “Until the day he died my uncle refused
even to speak to her, so enraged was he by the enforced termination
of his plan to marry her off for his own advantage.”
“Cruel father!” Catherine exclaimed. “How can
a man abandon his child for something that was not her fault?
Braedon, where is Linette now? If she is in need of shelter, I will
take her in and make her welcome here.”
“You would do that? You have a generous
heart, Lady Catherine. But there is no need.
One good did come out of the unforgivable
damage done to an innocent soul. When I learned what had happened
to Linette, I applied directly to my father for justice. He
provided a dowry for her, and interceded with an important abbess,
who agreed to take Linette into the convent she heads. As soon as
Linette recovered from her bodily injuries I personally escorted
her to the convent, where the abbess received her with great
kindness. As far as I can tell on the infrequent occasions when my
duties allow me to visit her, Linette is at peace. But she ought
not to have suffered as she did. I will never forgive Eustace for
his evil deed, and I will gladly kill him when the opportunity
arises – as I am sure it will arise, given his vile character.”
“Was it you who challenged Eustace just now?”
Catherine asked. “Or he who challenged you?”
“It was Eustace, drunk and boasting as usual,
who began the fight,” Braedon answered. “I was sorely tempted to
kill him. But I am Royce's guest, and there are other reasons to
wait.”
“What reasons?” Catherine asked.
“Well, for one, he was drunk. I don't want to
be accused of slaying a man who is too far gone in his cups to
defend himself properly. For my own honor's sake, I would much
prefer to meet him during the melee when, presumably, he will be
alert and sober.”
“That's a wise decision on your part,”
Catherine said. “But do take care when you meet him. Drunk or
sober, Eustace is not above trickery.”
“I will be careful. I thank you for
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