Chapter Eight #3
“I never asked you to come here,” he said. “How dare you shame me in front of men whose respect I have earned. I am disgusted at what you have done, yet you are proud of surviving. I do not call becoming a filthy servant survival.”
“What do you call it?”
“Disgraceful,” he hissed. “I do not want you here!”
There it was. The truth. He had no need or use of her.
Stung, Andromeda didn’t give in to tears of remorse or fits of begging.
She could see her father for what he was, and she’d only known the man, really known him, for just a few short minutes.
That was all the time she needed to see what kind of man he was.
Now, she was the one who was mortified.
“And I do not want to be here,” she said steadily.
“I especially do not want to be known as the daughter of a careless, unfeeling, selfish animal such as you. God has played a terrible joke on us both, Carr. You’re not worthy of me, and I cannot stand the sight of you.
I think I’ll go to London and earn my living as a harlot and tell every man I take to my bed that I am the daughter of Carr mac Murda, the most appalling excuse for a man I’ve ever known in my life.
I hope the humiliation of it drives you to an early grave. ”
She spat the last few words, throwing the remainder of her wine in his face and bolting up from her chair.
She rushed from the dais as Carr roared, wine stinging his eyes.
Tristan and Addax had been watching the entire thing and were quite pleased to see the direction it had taken.
The woman had fire, and it was good to see.
But it had come at great expense, at least for her.
Even Tristan could see that. He gestured to Addax to keep an eye on Carr as he stood up and followed Andromeda as she rushed from the hall.
He caught up to her in the bailey.
“Wait,” he said, calling after her as she headed for the keep. “My lady, please wait.”
Andromeda came to an unsteady halt. As he came up behind her, he could see that she was wiping her face. Faintly, he sighed.
“I do not know why your father is behaving that way,” he said quietly. “I’ve known him for a few years, and he never struck me as being someone who was selfish. Vain and ridiculous at times, but not selfish. Not like this. I am very sorry he has treated you so poorly.”
Andromeda sniffled as she turned to him. “It is kind of you to say so,” she said. “But you should not defend him.”
“Definitely not,” Tristan said. “He is indefensible. I must say that I am quite disgusted by it.”
She sniffled again and looked up at him, forcing a smile. “You are a kind man, my lord,” she said. “I am sorry my arrival has caused trouble. It never occurred to me that it would.”
“You have not caused trouble,” he said. Reaching out, he gently took her elbow and turned her for the keep. “Come inside. I’ve not eaten yet, and neither have you, so let us discuss this over a meal.”
Andromeda let him lead her toward the keep. “I am not certain what we need to discuss,” she said. “My father does not want me here. I must leave.”
“Will you really go to London and become a harlot?”
She missed the fact that he’d said it with some humor because she was still entrenched in her sorrow. “Nay,” she said glumly. “I only said that to hurt him as he had hurt me. I would not know the first thing about becoming a harlot. I think I would make a terrible one.”
Tristan fought off a grin, choosing not to comment on something that could be considered bawdy.
They went up the stairs and into the keep, which was dim at this hour.
There were a few torches about in the interior, creating halos of light, as he took her into the solar.
There were always servants in the keep, and Tristan summoned one of them, sending the man for food.
Heading back into the solar, he went for the hearth, which was burning low.
He began to throw peat into it.
“I do not know if this will make any difference to you, but I think you have shown great resourcefulness in your situation,” he said, poking at the peat.
“I do not know many women who would have had the presence of mind to do what you did when your escort abandoned you. That kind of initiative must be applauded.”
Andromeda was still standing because he hadn’t invited her to sit yet. “If I wanted to eat, then I had to do something,” she said. “I am in a country not my own, so it is not as if I have friends or relatives I can seek help from.”
He turned to look at her, seeing she was still standing, and indicated the chair next to the hearth. “Sit down,” he said. “I think I may have a business proposition for you if you are willing to listen.”
Andromeda sat in the chair, which was cushioned and comfortable. “Of course, my lord,” she said. “What manner of proposition?”
“A mutually beneficial one, I hope.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with being a harlot, does it?”
He started to laugh, his beard concealing the big dimples he had in each cheek, when he realized she had understood the humor of his harlot question earlier.
“Fortunately, it does not,” he said. “But it is something I will pay handsomely for.”
With the fire beginning to blaze, he set the poker aside and took the chair opposite her. For a moment, he simply looked at her. The woman before him was not the same filthy creature that he had escorted from Ruabon. This was an elegant, graceful woman of astounding beauty.
Because her hair had been braided at the back of her head when he first met her, he had no idea that it was white-blonde and silken and beautiful.
She had it parted on the side of her head, part of it over her shoulder and hanging down her torso.
Her face, now scrubbed clean, was like nothing he’d ever seen before—she had wide-set eyes, but the eyes themselves were large and lovely.
He could see her dusky lashes when she blinked.
She had a pert nose, a round Irish face, and a smile that was nothing short of enchanting.
She had a slight gap between her front teeth, but it only made her smile more endearing. It was perfect.
She was perfect.
“I was discussing your arrival with Addax earlier today,” he said. “We were discussing you and your role at Wrexham if you are to stay.”
“I would have a role?”
“Everyone has a role here,” he said. “Everyone has duties. If you are to stay at my castle, then you must contribute to Wrexham somehow. I do not tolerate laziness, but after what I have just heard from you, I suspect you do not tolerate laziness either.”
She smiled shyly, shaking her head. “Lady de Courcy was quick with a switch if any of her children were idle,” she said. “I learned to be productive.”
“Then I hope you will appreciate this proposition,” he said. “When I came into command of Wrexham, it had been occupied by the Welsh for some time. It was as if animals lived here. You can see what an enormous keep it is.”
Andromeda was listening carefully. “I have never seen such a large keep,” she said. “How many rooms does it have?”
“Including the vaults in the sub-level, there are twenty-seven chambers,” he said.
“Some are smaller, some are larger, and there is one enormous chamber at the very top of the keep where I sleep. I think it was meant for an entire family because it is so large. In any case, this very large keep has no one to manage it. I do not have a chatelaine—I have a quartermaster who oversees the kitchens and feeds the men, but that is where it ends. I am in desperate need of a chatelaine, and that is what I would like to propose to you—I would like to offer you the position. In exchange, I will provide you with a bed, food, and twenty pounds a year. That is about fifteen shillings a day. Would you be interested in this?”
Andromeda’s eyes widened. “Interested in…?”
“Would you require more money?”
She shook her head quickly. “Nay, my lord,” she said, clearly overwhelmed. “That is a great deal of money you offer. All for being your chatelaine?”
“I’m assuming you know how?”
She nodded firmly. “I was well trained, my lord,” she said. “I can read and write and do sums. I know how to keep inventory and how to manage money. I can determine how we can make money on our own by selling eggs or vegetables or even livestock. I was well schooled in these things.”
He smiled faintly. “I believe you,” he said. “Will you consider it?”
Her pale eyes glimmered. “I do not have to,” she said. “If you truly need my help, then I will gladly do it. If my father does not wish for me to remain, however, it may create a problem.”
Tristan lifted his eyebrows. “For him but not for me,” he said. “Frankly, your arrival was fortuitous. I need a chatelaine and you need a position. I believe working here, at Wrexham, will be much better than working at the tavern.”
Andromeda smiled broadly, nodding most fervently to his assertion. “It will be, my lord,” she said. “But I… I think…”
She suddenly lowered her head and burst into quiet tears. Concerned, Tristan moved his chair closer.
“What is it?” he said. “Did I say something to offend you?”
Andromeda wiped her face furiously. “Nay, my lord,” she said. “It’s not that. It’s simply that… up until this very moment, I had no hope. Not hope at all. My father does not want me here, and I did not know where I was going to go, so you have saved me. I do not think you realize that.”
He was embarrassed by the praise. “And I do not think you realize that you have helped me also,” he said. “I had a great need for a chatelaine, and here you are. I am grateful.”
“As I am,” she said, beaming at him once again as the tears faded. “As am I. To thank you does not seem quite enough.”
“You may thank me by making this a proper keep where I would be proud to have visitors,” he said. “As it is, it is no better than a stable.”