a rash. "It seems the old man does have another heir—or nearly so."
Gilbert's face mirrored his surprise first, then his anger. "Baseborn?" he demanded.
"Nay, legitimate."
A muscle spasmed in Gilbert's jaw. "I have heard of no other. There was only Philip."
He said the other man's name with such contempt, Lancelyn winced. Well, he knew the reason for his lord's hate of the Charwycks. Still, it pained him to see his baron so eaten with that savage, destructive emotion.
Lancelyn shook his head. "Unbeknownst to all, Edward Charwyck has a daughter."
"A daughter? This puzzled Gilbert. Penforke and Medland were so close, he was certain he would have heard of the existence of another offspring. "Sail a child, then?" he concluded.
"Nay." The knight shook his head, his Bps twisting wryly. "A woman ... and a nun, no less." He gave that a moment to sink in, then continued. "The old man brought her from the abbey more than a month past. It seems he intended to wed her to one of his vassals that she might give him a male heir."
"A nun?" Gilbert echoed, then shook his head. "She would break her vows? What manner of woman is she?" He expelled a harsh breath that misted the air. "I would not think the Church would allow it."
Lancelyn's shoulders rose and fell. "This I do not understand, my lord, but 'tis said she bears the mark of the devil clear upon her face. Mayhap the Church was grateful to be rid of her."
"Mark of the devil...," Gilbert repeated. Though it certainly fit with what he knew of that family, he could not bring himself to believe in the absurdity of such a thing. He curled his lips back and dismissingly waved it aside.
"I will see her returned to the abbey at once," he decided. "Providing, of course, the good sisters will accept her back amongst them after such a betrayal."
" 'Twould seem her father is of the same mind, my lord, for he has asked Sir Royce to arrange an escort for her on the morrow."
Gilbert was satisfied with that. "As it should be," he said, suddenly eager to be finished with this particular subject. "Now, let us talk of the state of the demesne. Is it in as poor condition as I have heard?"
Chapter 5
N ot until she arose from a sleepless night did Graeye learn of Balmaine's impending arrival. As the news had surely been brought during her venture to the falls yestereve, she had been none the wiser until she caught a snippet of conversation from the servants.
She was stunned. The man wasn't supposed to arrive for days. Dismay followed a moment later with the realization that she had little time in which to confront her father on the sin she had committed. He would have to release her from the obligation of taking the veil. But how would he take the news?
Not until she returned to the hall following matins did the implications of the baron's untimely arrival fully strike her; so directly, in fact, that had there not been a table nearby on which to brace herself, she would have sunk to the floor.
There was only one conclusion to be had. The man she had given herself to had been one of Balmaine's. Inwardly, she recoiled.
Aye, it was true her father would know soon enough, but the humiliation of so many others possibly knowing of her sin nearly brought her to her knees. What could she do?
A spring of hope surged forth as she contemplated the possibility that the man might not recognize her. It had been dark, after all.
She had no time to think further on it, for her father appeared at her side, drunk from a night of heavy drinking. He smelled foul, the horrid odors wafting from his clothes causing her to suppress the breath she had been about to draw.
"Where is your habit?" he demanded, swaying unsteadily. "You dare defy me in this?"
She looked down at her rumpled clothing. As it had seemed sacrilegious to wear her habit now that she had broken the vow of chastity, she had chosen to wear the brown bliaut. "I—"
"You are to return to the abbey this day, and you walk about as if you've
Gilbert's face mirrored his surprise first, then his anger. "Baseborn?" he demanded.
"Nay, legitimate."
A muscle spasmed in Gilbert's jaw. "I have heard of no other. There was only Philip."
He said the other man's name with such contempt, Lancelyn winced. Well, he knew the reason for his lord's hate of the Charwycks. Still, it pained him to see his baron so eaten with that savage, destructive emotion.
Lancelyn shook his head. "Unbeknownst to all, Edward Charwyck has a daughter."
"A daughter? This puzzled Gilbert. Penforke and Medland were so close, he was certain he would have heard of the existence of another offspring. "Sail a child, then?" he concluded.
"Nay." The knight shook his head, his Bps twisting wryly. "A woman ... and a nun, no less." He gave that a moment to sink in, then continued. "The old man brought her from the abbey more than a month past. It seems he intended to wed her to one of his vassals that she might give him a male heir."
"A nun?" Gilbert echoed, then shook his head. "She would break her vows? What manner of woman is she?" He expelled a harsh breath that misted the air. "I would not think the Church would allow it."
Lancelyn's shoulders rose and fell. "This I do not understand, my lord, but 'tis said she bears the mark of the devil clear upon her face. Mayhap the Church was grateful to be rid of her."
"Mark of the devil...," Gilbert repeated. Though it certainly fit with what he knew of that family, he could not bring himself to believe in the absurdity of such a thing. He curled his lips back and dismissingly waved it aside.
"I will see her returned to the abbey at once," he decided. "Providing, of course, the good sisters will accept her back amongst them after such a betrayal."
" 'Twould seem her father is of the same mind, my lord, for he has asked Sir Royce to arrange an escort for her on the morrow."
Gilbert was satisfied with that. "As it should be," he said, suddenly eager to be finished with this particular subject. "Now, let us talk of the state of the demesne. Is it in as poor condition as I have heard?"
Chapter 5
N ot until she arose from a sleepless night did Graeye learn of Balmaine's impending arrival. As the news had surely been brought during her venture to the falls yestereve, she had been none the wiser until she caught a snippet of conversation from the servants.
She was stunned. The man wasn't supposed to arrive for days. Dismay followed a moment later with the realization that she had little time in which to confront her father on the sin she had committed. He would have to release her from the obligation of taking the veil. But how would he take the news?
Not until she returned to the hall following matins did the implications of the baron's untimely arrival fully strike her; so directly, in fact, that had there not been a table nearby on which to brace herself, she would have sunk to the floor.
There was only one conclusion to be had. The man she had given herself to had been one of Balmaine's. Inwardly, she recoiled.
Aye, it was true her father would know soon enough, but the humiliation of so many others possibly knowing of her sin nearly brought her to her knees. What could she do?
A spring of hope surged forth as she contemplated the possibility that the man might not recognize her. It had been dark, after all.
She had no time to think further on it, for her father appeared at her side, drunk from a night of heavy drinking. He smelled foul, the horrid odors wafting from his clothes causing her to suppress the breath she had been about to draw.
"Where is your habit?" he demanded, swaying unsteadily. "You dare defy me in this?"
She looked down at her rumpled clothing. As it had seemed sacrilegious to wear her habit now that she had broken the vow of chastity, she had chosen to wear the brown bliaut. "I—"
"You are to return to the abbey this day, and you walk about as if you've
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