Chapter 3

"William?"

His mother"s saber-toothed rattle stopped him dead. It took a moment for Will to compose himself. Slowly, he turned to his mother.

"Mother, what delight!" he said, a rictus of a smile on his lips, "Alack, I must hurry. The men await me in the training grounds!"

Hurriedly, he scraped back his chair and headed for the door. But before he got there, his mother"s piercing blue gaze hit him.

"William!" cried the dowager duchess of Iverst, in a voice like a paint-stripper.

Will stopped dead in his tracks.

"William, I need to speak with you. Where do you think you"re going?"

Will faced his mother.

"Training," he said calmly. "I do it each morning, Mother. The men are waiting for me."

He cocked a glance pointedly at his mother, who stood implacable as ever, from toe to tip in riding furs.

"Well, make them wait. I need to speak with you," said the dowager, her eyes flushed with vitriol.

All this, and they were not even arguing.

Yet.

Will felt his emotions build up steam. He was late. He had important business.

"Mother!" he protested.

He was thirty years old, and somehow his mother still managed to reduce him to a child of three.

Biting down his dismay, Will tried his hardest not to pout. "Do I have to remind you of the situation? The king is reliant on us for his forces. It is true, London has many enemies. We must be ready!"

His mother looked at him sharply.

"It is not just the king who is reliant on you, William; it is also your family. Your kin need you, too."

She flashed her bright blue eyes pertinently and flicked her silver hair from her eyes. Somehow there was always a stray curl darting out from her scraped back headdress, no matter how much she plucked.

The dowager"s gaze shoehorned Will into the corner. Despite his annoyance, he found it hard to look away. It only made him feel more annoyed. He hated it when she did this to him.

Frustration bristling at him, Will asserted himself.

"I know, Mother. I am doing all this for the family," his eyes flashed vehemently, the same eyes which viewed him from across the room. Having delivered his point, he stomped angrily back toward the door, which hung tantalizingly open.

"Well, that"s just the point," said his mother, her lean heart-shaped face tilting pointedly toward him. "You don"t have any family of your own!"

Will let out a sigh. "Not this again, Mother," he muttered. He did not have time for this. His men were waiting; the soldiers were awaiting inspection, and he had a ton of duty to attend to. But the look on his mother"s face was adamant.

"Yes this, Will. If there"s one thing life has shown me, it is that you can"t be certain of anything in this world. You are of marriageable age. Most men your age are already settled, with several children. And I hardly need remind you that your father had already passed away by the time he was your age."

Will was about to retort that he was not about to die so soon when he stopped, uncertain. There had been a lot of battles lately. Anything could happen.

Seeing his disquiet, his mother moved forward. Her long skirts in a train, she rustled forward, picking up debris like a broom.

"What has that got to do with anything, pray tell?"

His eyes met his mother"s briefly. Then he looked away. She glared at him with added menace.

"It matters," began his mother, softly and dignified. "Because, as you know, London is not safe. At any moment, something could happen, and the Rothinghams" good name might fall. And that is especially going to happen if there is no son and heir!"

Will bristled. "I don"t have the time for this," he said, attempting to push past her. But he knew there was no way he could talk to her. There was no denying any of this.

"There will be no time at all if you leave it too late," said his mother, sharply turning to look at him. "There is no choice. You need to wed. The family needs it. You need it for the stability our name craves."

"Mother," Will began pushing past her, but the sweat building up in his head broke out everywhere. "I have duties, one of which is to provide an army for the king. And that is one I intend to take very seriously, unlike certain other family members. So, if you will let me?—"

His mother shook her head. "No. You have duties to your family. Listen. There is an upcoming ball and feast at Lady Eleanor"s. All the eligible brides will be there, I think."

Indignation overtook Will. "No!" he insisted. Deep down, he was prickling with dread. The very thought of being dragged to some godforsaken dance horrified him.

"And as for duty, perhaps you could remind your other son of his filial obligations. I spend most of my time cleaning up after his indiscretions."

Will couldn"t help it. He was fuming. It was just about the limit. Despite his best intention to push his temper back, it rose to the fore.

"Will, I…" began his mother, looking less than sure. She wore that hurt look that she did when she wanted to make a point. Instantly, Will felt guilty, as well as completely maddened. His mother took some time to compose herself before speaking.

"I just want you to find a wife and have some heirs before it"s too late. Like your father would have expected."

His mother"s eyes brimmed to the edge with tears. Will felt like someone had kicked him in the guts. Sometimes, it felt as if his mother blamed him for his father"s death.

"I know, Mother," Will muttered darkly. There was a pause for a moment in which the door opened again, sending a welcome break in the conversation.

"Mary-Ann!"

Will turned to see his sister, Mary, smirking from behind the door. Immediately, his mother"s face lit up. Mary was the youngest and their mother"s favorite.

Mary turned her dark head toward Will and entered the room.

"Hail thee, Brother," she said cheerfully, hitching up her houppelande—surely the second-longest ever in creation after her mother"s—and hopping across the room.

Will watched with some admiration as she navigated the length of the room in trailing skirts and a pair of poulaines so long they looked like canoes with a spike. Gazing, Will wondered how on Earth women walked in the damned things.

But Mary not only walked over to where Will stood, she bounced. A playful smile on her lips, she sidled up to Will and looked at him quizzically.

"Forsooth, Brother, why the long face?"

Mary stood watching, her amused young face creased into wrinkles. Despite himself, Will smiled. It was hard to remain mad around Mary for too long. Her natural wit and light brought mirth to any occasion. Will sighed. At fourteen, Mary had much to learn but was clearly blossoming into a charming young woman.

Her long, dark hair was loosed down her back, and she wore only the most modest of pleats in it. Other than that, she was fashionably attired, her blue houppelande extending halfway across the chamber.

"It is nothing," said Will quickly, although anyone could tell from his face this was not true.

Mary"s dark eyes flashed to her mother"s, scanning her expression.

"Hmm," said Mary, unsatisfied. She set her brown eyes upon him and smirked mischievously. "Pray, let me guess; it has something to do with a woman?"

Her eyes raised testily against his, setting the might of her charm against him. Will knew right then he was no match for her wits. Mary had a brain like quicksilver. She always sniffed things out.

"Indeed, Mary-Ann," their mother intercepted. She turned her sharp head to her daughter, who smiled. "I seek to persuade Will to attend the ball, but he is too busy with trifling matters."

His mother sent a sneaky look, which riled Will all the more. "Defending the realm is hardly a trifle!" he barked.

Then, he collected himself. Smiling at Mary, he forced himself to calm down.

"So, what brings you to my chambers at this ungodly hour? Usually, you are far too busy to waste time on your poor brother."

Will"s gaze mocked her, but instead of playing, Mary pouted.

"I have a request, dear Brother," said Mary, with a sudden curtsy. Will watched in mounting amusement. Already he could sense a raid on his purse coming.

"Pray tell, Sister," said Will, playing along. "Needst thou spiritual instruction or more wool to spin?"

Mary"s expression clouded. Her nose wrinkled.

"No," she said bluntly. "I require a fine blue cloth to spin a gown for the upcoming ball."

"A gown?" said Will, trying to keep his face straight. Of course, Mary was after something. "For vanity?"

Mary scowled. "Brother, I have been wearing the same three gowns all season! I will be the laughingstock of town if I do not have a new robe for the ball."

"Balderdash! You are nothing but a child," chided Will, but Mary almost choked on her rage.

"Child? Brother, I am of marriageable age," she berated him. "And I would like to be wed before I am an old maid."

The duchess shook her head sadly.

"Oh, my dear heart," she said to her daughter. "He will never marry. I expect we shalt have to commit you to a nunnery."

Mary"s eyebrows nearly shot off her head. Then, she saw the twinkle in her mother"s eyes. Immediately, she played along.

"What?" said Mary, her eyes widening. She had stopped on her heel and was now standing in front of the fire, gazing balefully at her mother.

"Well, sweeting," began the duchess. "Without a dowry, we will struggle to find you a suitable match."

His mother"s sharp gaze switched straight to Will, who rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Mother. We might not be flush with gold, but I think we can manage," began Will.

"Hmm, but it is the family name," replied his mother. "More than anything, we cannot risk it. And an unmarried eldest son quickly becomes the talk of the town."

Will had just opened his mouth to contest that he, not Trenton, was ever the talk of the town, but his mother just plowed on.

"The fact is, to make the best matches, we need to be seen seriously. And that, dear Son, means wedding bells," said the duchess, but then, with a sly aside to Mary, carried on. "However, since your brother has decided to take the path to celibacy, then it is not to be. And the only thing that can be done is for you to join him—in holy orders!"

"But Mother," cried Mary. She turned sternly to Will.

"Will, you must assist me. I beseech you! I will not go to a nunnery."

The look in her eyes was hot and cunning. Will did not doubt for one minute that she was being put up to this by their mother. But, even so, his conscience had been pricked.

His mother was right. There was no way around it. With dismay, Will realized that it was time to do what was required.

Around the corners of his eyes, his expression softened.

"Very well, Sister. You shall have your robes and fripperies," he said reluctantly. "And Mother, you shall have your way. But I need both of your assistance; to accompany me to Lady Eleanor"s ball, and help me find a wife."