So Leta nodded, folded her hands, and resigned herself to her fate. After all, as her mother often told her, marriage was the only means by which a maiden might gain power to change the course of history. A strong marriage could be the making of a woman, and even a bad marriage was preferable to no marriage at all.
“And Lord Alistair of Gaheris is the best match to be had among all the earldoms,” Lady Aiven informed Leta later that same day. “He is young, well-formed, strong, and will inherit all his uncle’s estates.”
“Did Earl Ferox never marry and have children of his own?” Leta asked, curious, for she knew little about this family that would soon be hers.
“Oh yes,” her mother replied. “Ferox did marry. Pero was her name, Lady Pero. A charming, delicate thing she was! She was due to have a child too, but she died on the birthing bed, and Ferox never remarried. Brokenhearted, so they say.”
“What of the baby?” Leta asked.
“Dead too, of course.” Lady Aiven shrugged, then gave her daughter a sharp glance. “Don’t look so dispirited. It makes you more whey-faced than ever, and no man wants to marry that. Why should you care about the death of a woman and child you never met? These things happen. It is our woman’s lot.”
“Our woman’s lot,” Leta whispered to herself on this, her second morning in Gaheris. The night before had passed in a blur, and although she’d sat beside Lord Alistair for the whole of a sumptuous banquet, she could not recall two words spoken between them.
She’d spent half the night staring at the drawn curtains round her bed and reviewing the evening’s events without satisfaction. Now she sat, hollow eyed, in the privacy of her chambers and waited for life to happen. But life seemed as disinclined to happen that morning as it ever had in Aiven. Her lady had informed her that she would be invited to dine privately with Lady Mintha later that day and, until then, she must amuse herself in her own chambers.
Like a prisoner.
So much for a grand adventure, rebellious Leta thought bitterly.
What did you expect? practical Leta responded with annoying calm. Romance? Intrigue? Silly girl.
A knock sounded lightly at the door. Leta hesitated, uncertain what to do. Her lady had stepped from the room. Dared she answer the door for herself? A second knock. She couldn’t very well pretend not to be in, could she? Feeling a bit bold, Leta crossed the room and cracked open the door.
She found herself face-to-face with Lord Alistair.
“Oh!” This was as far as her vocabulary would take her on short notice.
“Good morrow, Lady Leta.” Alistair offered a friendly grin as he bowed. He wasn’t a handsome man, though he was, as her mother had told her, well-formed and strong. His face was pleasant enough beneath a shock of bright red hair. Perhaps not what a girl envisions as her future husband or even, for that matter, her future king. But then, Leta knew very well she was no man’s dream come true herself. And she would marry Alistair a year from this very day. Best to put a brave face on it. So she tried a smile of her own in response.
“I wondered,” said Alistair, encouraged by that smile, “if I could interest you in a tour of Gaheris? As you are new to my home, I should like to do what I can to make you comfortable.”
Leta looked him swiftly up and down. He was dressed in riding gear and even held a riding crop in one hand.
He wasn’t intending to seek you out this morning, her practical side said. His mother caught him on his way to the stables and sent him up to court you.
Her rebellious side responded, So what? At least he’s an opportunity to escape these cold rooms!
Leta drew a breath, all too aware she’d let the silence linger too long. “Um. Let me fetch my cloak,” she said.
Alistair waited patiently until she joined him in the passage. Perhaps he was a little disappointed. By agreeing to his proposal, she had certainly deprived him of his last hope for a morning ride. Disappointed or not, at least he was courteous about it, and that could go a long way toward making a marriage bearable, Leta told herself. After all, plenty of young men would have ignored her existence entirely, before and after marriage.
And really, who could blame them?
Alistair led her down the passage, explaining how her chambers were on the same side of the keep as the family rooms. “Since you’re to be family soon enough,” he said with another of his vague but friendly grins, “my uncle thought it best that you be settled with us.”
Leta floundered for an interesting response. “I am comfortable,” she managed. It sounded just as insipid as she’d feared.
Alistair took her through the whole of the keep, pointing out the great hall, the passage leading to the scullery and kitchens. “And the most prized possession of all within Gaheris,” he said grandly, opening a certain door, “the castle well.”