Chapter Thirteen
A fter leaving his family in the breakfast room, Dunstan retreated to the great hall as usual. Every bit of good sense within him screamed at him not to fall prey to something as fickle as emotions as he strode across the still humming and noisy space to his favored seat in a window that looked out over the Channel.
Sense and reason said that he should face the troubles of his past head-on, dismiss the fears that were no longer serving him, and embrace the love he felt for Carys by simply asking for her hand in marriage. It did not matter that she was of a different class than him, since he was not in any danger of inheriting more than the castle. If class was Carys’s primary objection to their union, he could overcome it.
Likewise, he should put his trust in his friend not to break his heart or throw him back into a situation of pain and humiliation, like Charlotte had thrust him into. Carys was not Charlotte, and logic dictated that she would not behave as Charlotte had in any way. He knew in every fiber of his being that Carys would not be unfaithful to him, and he knew the two of them would care for each other as if they were the most precious things in the world.
It all made perfect, reasonable sense. Dunstan understood completely why his family thought it so shocking of him to resist. As he flopped into his favorite seat and gazed out at the flurries dancing down across the hillside that swept down to the water, he could see why as clearly as he could see the greys and whites of December.
But the heart rarely made sense. Even less so when fear had struck it. Carys had pushed him to arm’s length, and he needed to respect that. He would be no better than the fierce tide beating against the shore in his view if he bullied her into accepting him when she was not ready and had well-founded reservations. He still had reservations himself.
“What a disaster,” he muttered to the swirling flurries outside.
“I beg your pardon, my lord?” one of the footmen, who had been passing with a crate of rubbish that had been cleared from the area where the orchestra had played the night before asked.
Dunstan sat straighter, alarmed by the idea that his thoughts had somehow been overheard. “Oh, nothing,” he told the young man with a smile. “I was merely talking to the ghosts of the past.”
The young man eyed him suspiciously. “Very well, my lord,” he said before walking on.
Dunstan breathed out heavily, then gazed back out over the Channel once more. Perhaps he should go to London for the remainder of the winter to clear his head. If his love for Carys continued, making him pine for her, then he would know she was the one for him and he would return to her. If he found himself distracted by the goings on of Joint Parliament, he would—
“Oh, who am I attempting to fool?” he murmured to himself, sinking to lean against the side of the window seat. “I love her, and that is all there is to it.”
Knowing he loved his dearest friend was one thing. Knowing what to do about it was another entirely. And there was still the matter of her rejection and the distance she had put between them.
“Ah. There you are, my boy,” Uncle Gerald’s voice shook Dunstan from his thoughts.
Dunstan turned, then stood and headed across the great hall to help his uncle travel the rest of the way to his favorite chair, which had been set back in its usual place by the fire as the tidying from the ball continued.
“Here I am,” Dunstan said with a sigh. “If you wish to tease me further about Carys, I would beg you not to,” he added.
Uncle Gerald waved away his attempts to physically assist him. The old man was far more capable than most of the family knew and only put on a show of being an invalid when it suited him. He huffed and continued across to the fire, taking his seat.
“I’ve no intention of teasing you,” he said, gesturing for Dunstan to sit in one of the other chairs that had been replaced. “But if you truly fail to see the beautiful thing that has been dropped directly into your lap, I will most certainly scold you.”
Dunstan frowned. “I see it,” he said. “And I appreciate it. I simply do not at present see a way forward.”
Uncle Gerald snorted. “You’ve made more trouble for yourself than you need to,” he said. “The two of you have been in love for years, though you’ve called it friendship. I’ve watched you. I know. The way you have, in essence, resided together this past year and more is so akin to married life that you might have already had the banns read. The only thing you are missing is intimate relations.”
Dunstan glanced down, his face heating as memories of the night before assailed him.
Of course Uncle Gerald would notice.
“Oh, so you have!” he said, then burst into laughter. “Then good heavens, man! Whatever is the matter? Marry the woman and make us all happy.”
“It is not as simple as—”
“My lord,” Carys’s anxious voice called out before Dunstan could complete his excuse.
He and Uncle Gerald both turned to the doorway, only to see Lord William and Lady Alexandra pushing ahead of Carys, nearly knocking her sideways as they did, and approaching Dunstan as if they would attack.
Dunstan stood. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, glancing from Lord William to Carys, who looked deeply troubled.
No, it was more than that. She looked distressed, possibly as if she had been crying.
So help him, if Lord William and Lady Alexandra had upset her to the point of tears, he would tear them limb from limb.
“We have unfinished business,” Lord William said, marching up to the edge of the temporary carpet that had been laid down, marking the boundary of Uncle Gerald’s sitting area. “As we said last night, before you so conveniently disappeared, we have come for what is our by right of the law.”
“William, you old sod,” Uncle Gerald greeted Lord William with a scowl. The two men had always hated each other, even before Dunstan had married Charlotte. “What sort of devil’s nonsense are you on about?”
Whether news of the arrivals had spread or because they had been headed to the great hall at any rate, Alden, Cedric, and Waldorf wandered into the room, in the midst of conversation. Lord Arnold and another youngish, handsome man who Dunstan didn’t know walked with them. They stopped their conversation and proceeded forward with looks of confusion when they spotted Lord William accosting Dunstan and Uncle Gerald.
“I am here as this one’s father-in- law ,” Lord William said, emphasizing the word “law”. “As he is set to inherit this castle, and likely a great deal of money with it, my wife and I are here to claim the share that would have belonged to our daughter and any children she might have had.”
It was the same bizarre argument that the man had made during the ball. Once again, Dunstan gaped at him in bafflement that Lord William would believe such a thing as posthumous inheritance was possible.
Uncle Gerald was less soft in his assessment. “What sort of utter rubbish are you spouting, you addle-pated ninny?” he demanded.
Lord William shuddered as he pulled himself to his full height, leaning back as though Uncle Gerald had threatened to strike him. “How dare you?” he demanded.
Dunstan swiped a hand over his face, feeling a headache coming on. He peeked at his brother and cousins as the other men joined the circle of the conversation and gave them an apologetic look. If ever he was inclined to believe in curses, Charlotte’s parents had most definitely been his.
He sent a look to Carys as well, but his thoughts and worries where she was concerned were entirely different. She would think him the biggest fool alive to have once been married to a woman whose family could still be so vile to him, decades later. The idea of Carys thinking less of him hurt even more than her painful insistence that they should keep their distance from each other for more pedestrian reasons.
Carys turned her eyes to him as if sneaking a look. The moment their gazes met, Dunstan heated and Carys’s cheeks went pink. The ache and longing that had lingered at the corners of Dunstan’s heart and thoughts since that morning flared to fullness again.
Dunstan’s attention returned to the confrontation when Cedric snapped, “What is the meaning of all this?” Cedric attempted to keep his expression neutral, but Dunstan knew him well enough to see he was already at the end of his patience.
Lord William huffed in exasperation, as if being asked to explain his ridiculous claim once more was a burden on him. “This man was married to my daughter at the time of her too-early passing,” he said, gesturing to Dunstan. “As he has not married again, he continues to be my son-in-law.”
“Now he is to inherit this castle and a fortune with it, or so we were told,” Lady Alexandra continued. “A portion of that would have belonged to our daughter, and upon her death, as her heirs, it would have come to us.”
“We demand our share,” Lord William finished.
Silence followed his pronouncement.
“Where did you hear such utter rubbish?” Waldorf asked in the midst of everyone’s gaping.
For the first time, Lord William looked ruffled. “We received a letter,” he admitted, shuffling a bit. “It detailed our right to a portion of Lord Dunstan’s inheritance.”
“What ninny sent you a letter filled with such lies?” Uncle Gerald asked.
“That lord,” Lady Alexandra answered. “The one who wished to remain anonymous.”
Prickles broke out down Dunstan’s back. He most definitely had his suspicions about who was attempting to sabotage him, sabotage the entire family. He’d forgotten Edgar entirely, what with everything else that had transpired since the evening before.
“Someone is having a laugh at your expense,” Cedric said, looking entirely unamused.
“He is not,” Lady Alexandra said. “Why, he was at the ball last evening. We spoke to him personally, and he reassured us that our claim is legitimate.”
That only confirmed Edgar’s involvement to Dunstan. However, it appeared to be news to the rest of the family. They all stiffened, exchanging glances that said they were all equally baffled by the turn of events.
Dunstan opened his mouth to share his suspicions, but the young man standing beside Lord Arnold cleared his throat and said, “Forgive me, but does the Godwin family have any sort of documentation about lines of inheritance or any record of precedent for the families of spouses inheriting a share of the family fortune?”
Another blank moment of silence followed as everyone turned to stare at the handsome young man.
Uncle Gerald spoke for the entire family when he asked, “Who the bloody hell are you?”
Lord Arnold stepped forward, red-faced and shuffling. “I, er, um, allow me to introduce you to the fabulous new friend I made last night at the ball, Mr. Theodore Entwistle.”
“Friend you made at the ball?” Uncle Gerald asked, one eyebrow raised knowingly. “Who just happens to still be here the following morning? Wearing what appears to be a suit appropriate for a ball, which is in disarray?”
Dunstan fought not to roll his eyes. It was clear to everyone, except perhaps Lady Alexandra, what sort of man Mr. Entwistle was and why he was still at Godwin Castle, and in Lord Arnold’s intimate company.
“If it helps,” Lord Arnold said, shamefaced, but also impish, “Mr. Entwistle is a solicitor who specializes in inheritance laws.”
The family seemed to take in a collective breath. Of all the miraculously useful people to inexplicably have present, Mr. Entwistle was the very best.
“Then…then you should know everything about this matter,” Lord William said, shuffling on the spot and looking more anxious with every moment. “Kindly tell these people that my wife and I are entitled to our daughter’s share of whatever Lord Dunstan might inherit.”
Mr. Entwistle, who laughed self-effacingly and ran a hand through his auburn hair, making him look even more debauched than he already did, answered with “Whether or not you have any sort of claim depends entirely on inheritance laws in the Kingdom of Wessex and on Godwin family precedent.”
“The law of the Kingdom of Wessex says that a man’s wife is entitled to inherit a portion of his estate,” Lady Alexandra said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It further states that a woman’s father is responsible for her in every way until she is married, and that if anything should happen to her husband, he becomes responsible for her once more.”
“Yes, but nothing happened to Dunstan here,” Uncle Gerald pointed out, clearly annoyed by the bizarre situation. “It happened to your daughter.”
“We demand what is ours,” Lord William said. “This man was a terrible husband in any case.”
Dunstan sucked in a breath in offense. His gaze shifted to Carys again as fears that she might somehow believe the lies of his former father-in-law worrying him.
Mr. Entwistle raised his hands as if to settle Lord William. “Alright. Let us put Wessex law aside for a moment.” He turned to Dunstan, then glanced to Uncle Gerald. “What has the family traditionally done to provide for its brides?”
“I am not certain I know what you mean,” Uncle Gerald said with a scowl.
“Historically, has the Godwin family provided an allowance or inheritance for women who have married into the family?”
“I suppose so,” Uncle Gerald said, squirming in his seat. “But that does not apply to former wives who ran off with other men and who have been dead for nearly twenty years,” he added.
“How dare you insult our daughter’s memory?” Lady Alexandra gasped.
“By telling the truth?” Waldorf muttered.
“All that aside,” Mr. Entwistle said, holding up his hands again, as if he were very used to dealing with contentious families, “what documentation do you have detailing inheritances of the past?”
Silence followed his question.
“Well, the entire family has been up to their eyeballs poring through old diaries and records of our ancestors this week,” Cedric said with a shrug. “We might have accidentally unearthed something that is currently in the library.”
Dunstan’s entire body and soul seemed to ache at the prospect of diving into the mess in the library yet again.
“If you have uncovered anything at all pertaining to past inheritances, it may prove useful in this case,” Mr. Entwistle said.
“I’ll go search for something,” Alden said, starting for the door.
“You will stay where you are,” Lord Gerald stopped him with sudden strength in his voice.
“Ah ha!” Lord William called out. “You’ve no wish to uncover evidence that would support our claim so you are forbidding your kin from looking for it.”
Uncle Gerald sighed in irritation and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Would you sit down and close your mouth, sir?” he asked, pointing toward two empty chairs. “I need Alden to go fetch a maid and ask for tea.”
“I can send for tea, my lord,” Carys said, turning and starting off the way Alden had.
“No, no, no!” Uncle Gerald called out, stopping her as well. “I need you and Dunstan to go search the library for the documents Mr. Entwistle requires.”
“I could go with them,” Mr. Entwistle offered.
“No!” Uncle Gerald cried, seemingly at his wit’s end. He growled, then said, “Does no one listen when they are told anymore?”
Dunstan’s brow shot up at his uncle’s baseless frustrations.
Of course, he knew full well what his uncle was attempting to do. Yet again, he was attempting to thrust him and Carys into a secluded situation where the two of them would be forced to face their feelings for each other without the possibility of distraction.
“We might as well just go,” he said, glancing to Carys and trying to communicate that he knew what was happening.
“Yes, you should,” Uncle Gerald said, shooing the two of them. “And while you search, I should like to know who this mysterious gentleman who told you such outlandish lies at my ball was,” he said to Lord William and Lady Alexandra. “The rest of you sit as well. And you two had better behave.”
That last was added for Mr. Entwistle, or more likely Lord Arnold, as the two of them sat guiltily together on a small sofa. Although, to be honest, Lord Arnold was the guilty-looking one and Mr. Entwistle showed a surprising amount of poise.
Dunstan walked away from the group, glancing to Carys with a wary look as the two of them fell into step together.
“Who was the gentleman?” Uncle Gerald asked behind them as they crossed the great hall. “And why was he at my ball?”
“I do not know his name, only that he spoke with great authority,” Lord William said.
Part of Dunstan wanted to stay and partake of the rest of that conversation, revealing what he suspected about Edgar, as it felt important to the larger picture of things that had happened of late. A greater part of him felt as though he had stumbled close to a raging fire and was in danger of being burned as he and Carys passed through the doorway and into the hall. They naturally swayed close to each other, and it was all he could do not to take her hand to show her that he supported her, and that he needed her.
Carys did not look at him, though. She kept her eyes trained straight forward.
It was not a good sign.