Marriage Under Siege Read Free Page B

light of
a dear brother. He kept his gaze fixed on the scarred boards of the old box pew
before him, effectively masking his own thoughts. Sir Joshua sat at his side,
gallantly lending his support—as he had cheerfully explained when he postponed
his journey to Ludlow, the prospect of enjoying the explosion of temperament
when Croft was made privy to his new neighbour's political leanings was too
good an opportunity to miss. Mansell had expressed himself forcefully and
succinctly, threatening to banish Josh from the proceedings and send him on his
way if he dared say one word out of place but, indeed, he appreciated the solid
presence beside him in the grim atmosphere.
    Alone in the old lord's
pew, the worn outline of the Brampton coat of arms engraved on the door, sat
Lady Mansell. It had been her own choice to sit alone. Mansell had every
intention of lending his support to the widow, but she had chosen otherwise.
She had absented herself from the company until the last moment, deliberately
isolating herself in her lord's pew. He turned his head slightly to assess her
state of mind, intrigued by this unlooked-for influence on his inheritance.
    Honoria Brampton remained
unaware of his regard. She sat perfectly still, gloved hands folded in her
lap, the hood of her cloak pushed back from her neat coils of hair. No
shuffling, no fidgeting, she looked straight ahead towards the distant altar.
Lord Mansell could detect no trace of tears, no obvious distress on her calm
face, her eyes somewhat expressionless and unfocused. He frowned a little, but
had to admit that after their single encounter he would have expected no less.
    On the previous night she
had arranged for the provision of food and warmth and then simply withdrawn
with instructions to the servants to ensure their comfort. She had made no
effort to entertain, to explain the death of her husband, to enquire after
their journey. All was competently and capably ordered, but Lady Mansell was
personally uninvolved. And yet not, it would seem, from overwhelming grief.
Mansell shrugged his shoulders in discomfort within his sodden cloak and shuffled
his booted feet on the cold flags. It was, of course, difficult to judge on
such slight acquaintance and it would be unfair of him to presume.
    The service came to an end,
even the Reverend Gower spurred into hurrying his words as the restlessness of
the congregation made itself felt and his cold threatened to overwhelm him. The
coffin was duly carried to the south aisle and manoeuvred, with some difficulty
and muttered imprecations, to be lowered into the vault below the stone flags
with the decayed remains of other de Bramptons.
    '...dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal
life...'
    The congregation proceeded
in a wave of relief out into the churchyard.
    'Well, my lord.' Croft
appeared at Mansell's side and offered his hand. 'Unpleasant circumstances, I
know, but welcome to the county. I knew your father, of course. I shall be
pleased to make your acquaintance, my boy. And introduce you with pleasure to
the rest of my family on a more auspicious occasion.'
    I
doubt it. Lord Mansell kept his thoughts to himself and
returned the clasp with a smile and inclination of his head. 'Thank you, Sir
William. I remember my father speaking often of you and your boyhood
activities. He held you in great affection. I trust you will return with me to
the castle. Let us get in out of this Godforsaken rain and see if the contents
of Lord Edward's cellar can help to thaw us out.'
    'I would not gamble a
fortune on it!' Sir William guffawed, raindrops clinging to his bushy
eyebrows. 'But I will willingly help you discover the flaws in your
inheritance! I am not sure that you will be successful in finding even a keg of
ale, much less anything of a stronger nature—I would definitely not bet my last
coin on it. Lord Edward did not spend money willingly. Indeed, he claimed that
he never had it to spend—but only because