Chapter Twelve #5
Wealth he would have the moment he married Summer.
Edward found himself thinking of his sons, wondering why they had been so naive to the man’s terrible scheme.
They professed to love Summer; if so, why had they been so entirely eager to marry her to a man whose true desire was to claim her sizable dowry?
Even if de Moray had been able to convince him of his proper intentions, still, Edward wondered seriously why Stephan hadn’t seen through the facade.
Lost in his train of thought, Edward was nonetheless aware of Margot’s patient presence and Breck’s fidgeting silence. Drawn from his deliberation, he wiped at his moist brow and focused intently on the lady’s pale blue eyes.
“I appreciate your candor and wisdom, my lady, in helping me to see the truth of the matter,” clearing his throat, he once again shifted listlessly in his chair.
“My greatest fear now is how to properly break the betrothal contract between my daughter and de Moray without incurring the involvement of the church.”
Breck, his agitated movements quelled with the encouraging response, fought the urge to sink to his knees and thank God for his mercy. Unable to keep the smile from his face, his glee and triumph was instantly quelled by a withering expression from Margot.
Restraint, young Kerry. Margot’s silent demand went properly heeded and when she was positive Breck was not going to break out in a dance of victory, she returned her attention to Edward with her customary composure.
“Allow me to see the contract, my lord. Mayhap there is a provision providing for the annulment of the contract should either party find fault or discomfort with the proposal.”
Edward shook his head. “There is no written contract. My permission was verbal, in the presence of a witness.”
Margot struggled not to smile herself with the baron’s weary, witless response.
“Then the contract is not binding in the least. Unless your sanction has been put to paper, the church cannot involve itself because a verbal contract is not considered legally valid,” passing a long glance at Breck, she continued with careful consideration.
“If I may suggest, my lord, in order to avoid a good deal of trouble and crisis on the part of de Moray, I would like to propose that you immediately betroth your daughter to another knight to permanently remove her from de Moray’s grasp.
Surely the man cannot compare his verbal consent to a legally binding and written document. ”
Edward’s gaze was distant, pensive, as he seriously considered Margot’s suggestion. As Breck loomed into view, far more sedate than he had been only moments before, Edward’s attention shifted to the pimple-faced knight and, suddenly, an expression of understanding creased his aging face.
“You, Kerry?” It was a question as well as a declaration. “You’ve shown a good deal of interest in my daughter. Would you be willing to marry her were I to provide her with a tremendously attractive dowry?”
A faint smirk played upon Breck’s lips; he simply could not help himself. For all of the pain and humiliation, planning and strategies were finally coming to a positive conclusion and he could hardly believe his fortune. There was more than one way to defeat a Gorgon.
“’Twould be my pleasure to accept your daughter’s hand, my lord,” Breck hoped his quaking voice did not bely his excitement and disbelief. “In fact, the sooner we are wed, the better for all concern. The sooner de Moray will lose interest.”
“Indeed,” Edward rose unsteadily from his chair, weaving dangerously as he stumbled to the chamber door.
Opening the panel, he ordered one of his soldiers to summon a lesser steward.
Summer, of course, was his chief steward, taking care of the affairs of his estate and handling scribing duties since Kermit’s death.
Edward was positive, however, this was one scribing duty she would most definitely reject.
When the soldier fled down the hall, Edward closed the door and staggered heavily toward a crystal carafe filled with wine. Pouring himself a healthy draught, he swallowed half the goblet before returning his attention to the two successful conspirators.
“I shall have the contracts drawn up tonight and witnessed,” he said, his voice hoarse with fatigue and emotion.
Taking another swallow, he smacked his lips loudly and fixed Margot in the eye.
“I’ll not allow Bose de Moray to murder my daughter and make me the laughing stock.
You were most gracious to supply your reasoning this night.
And I thank you as well, Sir Breck, for being most clear-headed and persistent in your opinion. ”
Neither Margot nor Breck replied to Edward’s heart-felt thanks, repressing the urge to look to each other in triumph and glee.
It was as good as they had hoped for and better.
By tomorrow, Breck would be legally bound to Lady Summer and Bose, disheartened and spurned, would be forced to return to Ravendark empty-handed and defeated.
Returning to Lora’s memory where he belonged.
Edward lost himself in his wine. Without asking or without invitation, Margot confiscated a second pewter chalice to match the baron’s and joined him in his liquor as Breck stood silently by, contemplating his unbelievably good fortune.
Once and for all, the Gorgon would be vanquished.