The Countess Read Free

my sole possession, the title to a distant holding, one which I have never seen. This Kinbeath was bestowed upon my father years ago. Truth be told, if any believed it had any value, I would have wagered it and likely you would not even hold it in your hand.
    Kinbeath lies in distant Scotland, though its tale is perhaps worth the journey. ’Tis the way of the Celts to make a pagan wedding ceremony called a handfast. A couple pledge to live as one for a year and a day, and if all goes well, they swear at the end to keep all their days and nights together. ’Twas said by my father that this Kinbeath is believed a fortunate place to make such a vow, that locally all clamor to make their vows there.
    Perhaps you and I should have made our pledges each to the other in Kinbeath. Perhaps then I would not be writing this missive, perhaps then I would not have failed so badly. Perhaps then you would regard me with other than disappointment in your eyes.
    Perhaps then I might have been the man you once believed me to be.
    But we did not and I am not. And instead of a fine fat dowry for Esmeraude, I leave you only the deed to a property held to be worthless, at least upon these shores.
    Forgive me, Eglantine, if you can find it within your heart to do so. ’Twas not my intent to fail.
    Eglantine ran her fingertip over Theobald’s signature, the enclosed title falling to the floor unheeded. She traced the swirls of ink as tears obscured her vision, her heart aching with the memory of all the hopes she had once had.
    She had been such a fool.
    Unwitnessed, she buried her face in her hands and wept as never she permitted herself to do. Eglantine was alone but for her responsibilities and one worthless title, and felt more like a young girl than a woman widowed once again.
    * * *
    When thunder rumbled in the distance and the sky darkened, Eglantine straightened. She wiped her tears and found her composure once again.
    She opened Reynaud’s letter, every word feeding her dawning conviction to make a change in her circumstance.
    My lady Eglantine—
    Be advised that I shall arrive at Arnelaine in a fortnight’s time. It is my understanding that your spouse has recently passed from this earth, and accordingly, arrangements have been made with the Abbess of Courbelle for your acceptance there as a novitiate. You are however welcome to linger at Arnelaine, as my guest, until the nuptials between Jacqueline and I are celebrated two months hence. I shall, with your certain agreement, be delighted to arrange for Esmeraude’s marriage when she comes of age.
    Please ensure that all is made ready for my arrival and that the keys to Arnelaine are entrusted to Jacqueline.
    Reynaud had not signed his missive beyond a lazy R, but he had marked it heavily with red wax, imprinted so deeply with Arnelaine’s seal that she could not have doubted the image. A second seal bore the arms of Charmonte, his home estate.
    His letter motivated her as naught else might have done. Indeed, Eglantine’s lips drew to a tight line at the sight of that seal.
    So this was who had taken Theobald’s wager! No wonder Theobald had been so evasive in naming the other man, for Eglantine had made no secret of her objections to Jacqueline’s match.
    Clearly, Reynaud de Charmonte did not approve of Eglantine’s objections to his marriage to her daughter and made to ensure that she had no right of protest.
    And a convent for her! Eglantine would join no convent! How dare Reynaud make such an arrangement?
    â€™Twas as though Eglantine was only so much baggage, and baggage that must be removed. His deed confirmed the worst of her fears and changed all of her assumptions. Although another lord might have allowed Guillaume to retain Arnelaine by the payment of Theobald’s debts, Reynaud would not let the matter end so simply.
    First he would ensure he had Jacqueline.
    But a man who treated Eglantine in such manner would not make