The Last Heiress Read Free Page B

William Smythe rode ahead to alert the house to their arrival. The cook would need to be informed, and places must be made in the stables for the horses and their riders. But stable lads were there to take Thomas Bolton’s horse and lead his men-at-arms to the stable.
    The front door was flung open, and light poured forth through its opening as Elizabeth Meredith came forth to greet her uncle. “You did  not wait very long after receiving my mother’s plea,” she teased him.
    “Or have you come to tell me you are too old to go to court? That is what Mama said.” She kissed his cheek, and then, linking her arm in his, brought him into the house and through into her hall. She was wearing a long blue wool skirt, a wide leather belt about her narrow waist, and a long-sleeved white linen shirt.
    It suited her, Lord Cambridge thought. “I shall never be too old to go to court,” he replied a trifle indignantly. So Rosamund thought because he had begun his sixth decade he was not the man he had always been. Well, she would see soon enough. He would turn Elizabeth into a little princess in spite of herself. “Nor will I ever grow too old to fail Rosamund’s daughters, my pet,” he said, smiling with pleasure as she kissed his cold cheek in welcome. He plunked himself into a tapestry-backed chair by the fire and, pulling off his gloves, held his hands to the fire. “God’s wounds, ’tis cold!” he exclaimed.
    “Wine for my lord!” Elizabeth shouted to her servants.
    Lord Cambridge winced. “Dear child,” he pleaded, “do not call out as if you were in the taproom of a crowded inn. A lady’s voice should be gentle but firm in tone when instructing her servants.”
    “Oh, lord!” Elizabeth said almost wearily. “Are my lessons to start at once?”
    “Aye, they are,” he said, taking the goblet of wine from a hovering servant. “You are obviously in sore need, Elizabeth Meredith, of civilizing. And I shall not be driven off. Your mother is correct: You must have a husband. Friarsgate needs to be assured of another generation of those who love it and will care for it. I am going to turn you back into the lady you were born to be, and then, dear girl, we shall go hunt for a nice young man who will not be frightened of you, and who shall wed you and give you the sons and daughters this estate nurtures so well.” He put the goblet to his lips and drank half of the contents down. “Now what is for dinner? I have not eaten since we left Otterly, except for a wedge of hard cheese and a bit of bread. I must have a good meal if I am to take on this incredible task, dear girl.”
    Elizabeth laughed aloud. “Uncle, you have not changed, and if anyone can make me presentable long enough to snag a healthy young ram to mate with, ’tis you!”
    He raised a sandy-gray eyebrow. “You will have to learn to temper your speech no matter your thoughts, my pet,” he advised, and drank down the rest of his wine. This would be a herculean task indeed.
    Elizabeth grinned back at him. “Well, isn’t that what we’re going to do, Uncle? Find me a mate for the purpose of getting heirs for Friarsgate?”
    “You might put it a bit more delicately, dear girl, and there is always the possibility that you might fall in love,” he suggested dryly.
    Elizabeth made a rude noise. “Love? No, thank you! Love weakens a body. Philippa gave up Friarsgate for love. Even Mama gave up Friarsgate for love. I shall never give up Friarsgate.”
    “Ahh,” Lord Cambridge responded, “but the right man will never ask such a sacrifice of you. Your own father, who had lived all his life at court, was more than willing to come to Friarsgate, for love of your mother. And he quickly grew to love this land. And Philippa made her own decision in the matter. She did not want Friarsgate, for her passion is for the court. And your mother would have never left to live at Claven’s Carn had not you been here to accept her responsibilities as she has