Chapter Seven
Lord Alan Haistethorpe was a tolerant man with a son who was not so tolerant.
One look at Brooke Serroux and Elliott Haistethorpe begged his father to leave for home immediately.
But Alan had come this far to examine the prospective bride and would not turn away so easily.
Erith Castle was a well-known de Montfort stronghold that Alan remembered from his youth, and the idealized memory of it still lingered for him.
He did not want his son to pass so easily on a legend.
What he could not figure out yet was where Braxton de Nerra fit in to all of this. He had heard of the mercenary; most people in the north had, for de Nerra had done a lot of fighting for the border barons. He wondered why Erith required the man’s services, which put him on his guard.
Braxton was cordial without being overly friendly.
He took Alan and Elliott into the great hall and offered them wine out of his own supplies.
It was a fine Madera, rich and red and tart.
Beyond that, he went so far to explain that the lady of Erith would be joining them shortly, but little else.
He was not much of a conversationalist. Alan and Elliott ended up feeling quite unnerved by his presence, made worse by the three knights that wandered in shortly after their arrival.
Braxton’s men were young, strong, and intimidating.
They stood in various positions around the room as if waiting for a fight to start.
They had caught a glimpse of Brooke after the scuffle in the yard.
She was a pretty little thing. Braxton had sent her to change her clothes and when she reappeared, it was with an older woman with exquisite features.
Though the daughter was quite lovely, Lady Gray Serroux was magnificent.
Alan, and Elliott’s, attention shifted from daughter to mother in a hurry.
Braxton saw their expressions almost as soon as the mood changed.
But he was distracted from his thoughts of murdering the pair by Gray’s appearance; she was clad in one of her new surcoats, an exquisite emerald garment with delicate lines that emphasized her slender torso and full breasts.
In fact, she looked amazing. For a moment, Braxton was actually speechless.
He’d never seen anything so lovely, and he’d never seen her in anything other than rags.
But he quickly found his tongue as she came upon them.
He stood up and held out a hand to her, gently guiding her to a seat.
“My lords, may I present the Lady Gray Serroux, Lady Brooke’s mother,” he said. “Lady Gray, this is Lord Alan Haistethorpe and his son, Elliott.”
Gray smiled at the pair, taking her seat. The men followed suit. “Welcome to Erith, my lords,” she greeted. “We are honored by your visit.”
“As you honor us with your invitation,” Alan said, looking somewhat confused. “Is the Lady Constance indisposed?”
“My mother is unwell this day and unable to greet you,” Gray’s tone hardened. “With your permission, Sir Braxton has graciously agreed to mediate the negotiations.”
Alan and Elliott looked straight at Braxton, who met their gaze emotionlessly. “We were unaware that Sir Braxton had been engaged for his negotiating skills,” Alan said. “We thought… well, it is well known that he is a soldier of fortune.”
“I am a man of many talents,” Braxton said steadily. “Contract negotiation happens to be one of my strengths, as I have brokered many a successful contract for myself. Surely you have no quarrel bartering a betrothal with me.”
Alan and Elliott looked at each other. It was clear that neither man knew quite how to react. Alan finally asked the question they were both thinking. “Do you receive a percentage of the dowry for your fee, my lord?”
Braxton’s eyes were steely. He let loose a great secret, simply because he wanted to ward off any future complications. And he could see, by the way Elliott had looked at Gray, that there could very well be some.
“I am Lady Gray’s betrothed and, as such, will retain wardship of her daughter upon our marriage,” he said steadily. “Negotiating with me is as good as negotiating with the girl’s father. Now, shall we get down to business?”
Terms were unable to be reached. One too many glances at Gray Serroux from Elliott Haistethorpe caused Alan to excuse himself with his son while the man still had his head.
Within the hour, Alan and Elliott were making haste back to Windermere with harrowing tales of the mercenary Braxton de Nerra and his murderous negotiating skills.
*
Gray had only been to Milnthorpe once in her life. It was a larger berg with an entire long avenue dedicated to merchants. There was also a big stone cathedral and a tournament field at the edge of town by the river that flowed down through the Lyth Valley and dumped into Morecambe Bay.
The party from Erith had left the fortress at dawn.
Gray and Brooke were astride two warmblood mares that belonged to Braxton, gentle animals he used to breed with the war horses to produce a sturdy, long-legged offspring, which he then sold to the nobility who appreciated fine crossbreds.
The morning was soft and bright, and the jaunt along the wide road was at a leisurely pace.
For the first time since she could remember, Gray actually felt at ease and without care.
She’d never experienced such a feeling, or at least if she had, she could not remember when last. A glance at Brooke showed the young girl to be equally relaxed.
Happy for almost the first time in her young life. It was already starting off a good day.
But the morning had not been without its momentary drama.
Before the party left for Milnthorpe, Brooke had apologized to Braxton for lying.
The evening prior, Gray and Brooke had had a serious discussion about the rights and wrongs of life.
Lying was wrong, even if one was fearful or attempting not to discredit an elder.
Gray had also told her daughter that she was to stay away from Constance.
Though Brooke had not completely understood why, she nonetheless agreed.
Gray secretly wondered how long that would last; Brooke and her grandmother were close.
She suspected it would be a bit of a battle.
On the road in the new hours of dawn, the sun was just clearing the horizon.
Wrapped in her new cloak with the gray fur, Gray felt like a queen.
She was clad in the emerald brocade surcoat but realized when she had dressed that all of her shifts were old and worn.
No matter, however; she was grateful for whatever she had and would not complain.
So the surcoat went over the worn shift and the new cloak had gone over that.
Her blond hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, wound into a bun that showed off the slender shape of her neck and shoulders. She looked positively elegant.
Braxton rode slightly ahead of her, turning every so often to shoot her a glance.
She would merely smile at him. Dallas rode slightly ahead of Brooke while Graehm and Geoff rode behind them.
The four knights and two ladies were surrounded by twenty men at arms and one of Braxton’s massive wagons that had been brought along to cart back whatever booty they happened to acquire.
The rest of the men, and wagons, had been left back at Erith.
The rebuild was still in full swing and the remaining soldiers could not be spared.
As Gray and Braxton passed the time exchanging meaningful glances, Brooke was involved in her own silent game.
Riding on the wagon seat beside the driver sat Norman and Edgar.
Brooke could feel their stares on her back and she would casually turn every so often to see what they were doing.
So far this morning, Edgar had stuck his tongue out at her twice.
She was keeping track. For every transgression, she was going to punch him twice. He was already racking up quite a bill.
Milnthorpe came into view much faster than Gray had anticipated.
She was rather enjoying the ride, watching Braxton’s powerful form as he rode in front of her.
But soon they had arrived, and soon there were crowds of people going about their business all around them.
The bustle of the town started well before they actually entered it.
It was a busy and bright morning already.
Braxton had been to Milnthorpe a few times and knew the layout.
He took the party directly to the Street of Merchants and found an area beside one of the thatched-roof stalls that was roomy enough to park the wagon.
Norman and Edgar leaped off the bench, collecting the chargers as the knights dismounted.
Braxton dismounted, turned his horse over to a nearby soldier, and went to help Gray.
She smiled at him as he approached, sliding gratefully into his upstretched arms. He lowered her to the ground, his hands lingering on her a moment longer than necessary. He winked at her as he let her go.
“Here we are, my lady,” he said, glancing up one side of the street and then down the other. “If I recall correctly, there are several import merchants near the western end of the avenue. They should have fabrics and goods from all over the world.”