“I suppose it depends,” she replied, her stomach souring. “Did Edmon dance with him as well?”
Brynn giggled, Pasqua poshed, and Sowe just smiled. “Do you know why Duerden was seeking you out? He has never come asking for you at the kitchen before.”
“He is a respectful lad, as learners go,” Pasqua said. “I was tempted to drive him off with a broom, but I did not.”
“I think I know why,” Lia replied, twisting another piece of crispel. She brushed crumbs from her skirt. “The Aldermaston told me that his parents sought to purchase my freedom.”
Everything went quiet. Sowe and Bryn looked at each other and then at her. Pasqua’s mug was part-way to her mouth and hung frozen.
“Do you mean…?” Brynn suggested.
“Lia?” Sowe asked, coming over.
“The Aldermaston said he wants to marry me,” Lia said, blurting it out.
It was quiet, awkwardly quiet.
“Has he asked you?” Sowe asked, sidling up next to her on the bench.
“No, I have not seen him in several days.” Not since she had shamed him in front of Colvin. The thought made her wince. Had he been working up the courage to ask her then? To tell her his thoughts? She had never considered it.
Brynn’s face was still contorted with confusion. “But you do not love him, Lia,” she said softly.
Lia laughed at the absurdity. “I did not say I was going to marry him. Only that I heard he would ask me. His parents sought the Aldermaston’s permission and he gave it.”
“He…he gave it?” Pasqua demanded, her expression bewildered.
Sowe and Brynn glanced at each other, their faces betraying them.
“What is it?” Lia asked, squeezing Sowe’s leg.
“You cannot marry him,” Brynn insisted.
“Why?” Lia demanded. Pasqua’s expression was paler than milk.
“It is secret,” Sowe admitted. “Something Edmon told me.”
Lia was on her feet, her heart beating faster and faster. It was one thing to be told that Duerden sought her, but the look in Sowe’s eyes was of much greater importance. “What is it? If you know something, say it!”
Sowe bit her lip. “It was a few nights ago. Pasqua was asleep. Colvin left to escort Marciana and Ellowyn back to their chamber. Edmon said he was not supposed to know, but he had overheard Colvin and Marciana talking about it. That he was going to ask you soon.”
Lia stared at her hard. “Talking about what?”
It was Pasqua who finally said it. “Colvin wants to marry you, Lia. It is the reason he and his sister came to Muirwood.”
* * *
“A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow.”
- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey
* * *
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Intentions
Lia needed to think, but the wild pounding of her heart made it impossible. Thinking? What was she supposed to think? How could she stop herself from thinking? Fleeing the Aldermaston’s kitchen, she was engulfed by the storm breaking over Muirwood. The wet grass was spongy with mud, but she did not care. She tugged up her hood and walked, trying to fix a destination where she could go and be alone. Away from the manor or the old cemetery grounds, for Colvin might be in either place. Not the laundry, not where Reome would torment her. She needed to sort through her surging feelings, to control her face, her voice. Colvin wanted to marry her? Her? She wanted desperately to believe it, but did not dare summon the hope for fear it would be dashed. He had come to Muirwood to ask her. Colvin Price – the Earl of Forshee. Marry her, a wretched from Muirwood?
She glanced over her shoulder at the cloisters, knowing Ellowyn was there struggling to read and hating every moment of it – hating every moment that Lia craved for. To be able to learn. To have her own tome. But not just that. To spend time with Colvin. To be with him, to study with him. To share ideas and interpretations. To share their hearts with each other. The thought of it – the amazement of it was more than she could cope with. Tears stung her eyes. Had he shown by his actions that he cared for her? That he valued her opinions? That he was comforted by her presence?
Her boot splashed in a muddy puddle and she realized she was walking towards the Cider Orchard. A good place to hide in a rainstorm. To hide beneath the boughs, to think about what she suspected and reason it out so she knew what to do and how to react if he asked her. Rain gushed around her, making her shiver, but not with cold. Her emotions could not be controlled.