for the abbot and himself. “I am ever your obedient servant, My Lord Abbot.” And will be forever damned for that.
* * *
“We are travelers well met, Dame Kerr.” A man Margaret faintly recognized bowed to her and Hal as they passed through the abbey gateway onto Canongate. “James Comyn. I saw you with Father Andrew in the tavern the other evening.”
Margaret remembered—he had been one of the well-dressed men sitting near her brother. So he was a Comyn—they were one of the most powerful families in Scotland, and kin to John Balliol, the king Longshanks had betrayed. He was dressed in more somber clothes today.
“Good day to you, Master Comyn.”
“You were visiting your brother?”
“I was.” She was not in a mood to gossip or while away the time discussing the weather. Let him be useful if he wished to chatter. “Forgive me, you will think this a strange question, but do you know of a good laundress for my uncle’s inn?”
He had a pleasant smile and expressive brows. “An unusual conversational ploy, but I am equal to it. I fear that I do not, milady. Might you recommend a good bowyer?”
She could not help but laugh. “I am Murdoch’s niece.”
“I know.”
Quietly, suiting Margaret’s mood, Comyn walked with them to the crossroad with the Leith road, where he said, “I must bid you farewell for now.” He bowed to them and continued north.
Margaret and Hal crossed into Netherbow.
“He is a pleasant man,” she said as she dismounted in front of the stable.
“Pleasant enough, mistress, though I have seen him lose his temper.”
“Over what?”
“I should not gossip,” Hal said as he unfastened Bonny’s harness.
“Is he often at the inn?”
“Oh aye, mistress. All the time.”
“Then it would be a kindness to warn me of his temper.”
“He would not lose it with you. It is the master he argues with. And more than that I cannot say.”
Margaret did not press him. In any case, James Comyn had provided a much needed laugh. But as she faced the inn, all that she had learned today came rushing back. What a fool she was, and everyone in Edinburgh knew. She rushed to her chamber, not wanting anyone to hear the sobs that she could choke down no longer.
* * *
Andrew could not sit still. He kept remembering the time Roger Sinclair had surprised him in Edinburgh. He should have told Maggie of that at the time, but he had prayed it was still possible they might be happy.
Within a fortnight of the wedding, in late April two years ago, Roger had departed Perth, for Bruges, he had said, an important merchant to see. He had left Margaret alone in the partly furnished town house in Perth, and Jack Sinclair in charge of the business. Jack was a good factor. He could have made the trip for the newly wed man. Andrew had thought Roger just an overzealous merchant until he saw him in Edinburgh a week after he had supposedly sailed. Unfortunately, Roger had seen Andrew as well, concocted a plausible story, and hurried home to a delighted Margaret. But Andrew had lately learned that by June of that year Roger had again departed Perth, staying away until Michaelmas. Andrew saw that as indifference on Roger’s side. Margaret brought connections and a large dowry, and would decorate any gathering, being a lovely woman. Such reasons for marriage were not uncommon, but she deserved better. He must do something for her.
7
Her Marriage ’ s Great Chance
Margaret shooed Celia from her chamber. Her stomach burned, her breath came in gasps, she did not know whether to cry or scream. Damn the men in her life. Roger had abandoned her, Murdoch and Andrew had kept information from her, Jack had dallied with her, and none of them trusted that she had any wits.
No doubt Jack had also known of Mistress Grey. She feared all of Edinburgh knew;
* * *
“We are travelers well met, Dame Kerr.” A man Margaret faintly recognized bowed to her and Hal as they passed through the abbey gateway onto Canongate. “James Comyn. I saw you with Father Andrew in the tavern the other evening.”
Margaret remembered—he had been one of the well-dressed men sitting near her brother. So he was a Comyn—they were one of the most powerful families in Scotland, and kin to John Balliol, the king Longshanks had betrayed. He was dressed in more somber clothes today.
“Good day to you, Master Comyn.”
“You were visiting your brother?”
“I was.” She was not in a mood to gossip or while away the time discussing the weather. Let him be useful if he wished to chatter. “Forgive me, you will think this a strange question, but do you know of a good laundress for my uncle’s inn?”
He had a pleasant smile and expressive brows. “An unusual conversational ploy, but I am equal to it. I fear that I do not, milady. Might you recommend a good bowyer?”
She could not help but laugh. “I am Murdoch’s niece.”
“I know.”
Quietly, suiting Margaret’s mood, Comyn walked with them to the crossroad with the Leith road, where he said, “I must bid you farewell for now.” He bowed to them and continued north.
Margaret and Hal crossed into Netherbow.
“He is a pleasant man,” she said as she dismounted in front of the stable.
“Pleasant enough, mistress, though I have seen him lose his temper.”
“Over what?”
“I should not gossip,” Hal said as he unfastened Bonny’s harness.
“Is he often at the inn?”
“Oh aye, mistress. All the time.”
“Then it would be a kindness to warn me of his temper.”
“He would not lose it with you. It is the master he argues with. And more than that I cannot say.”
Margaret did not press him. In any case, James Comyn had provided a much needed laugh. But as she faced the inn, all that she had learned today came rushing back. What a fool she was, and everyone in Edinburgh knew. She rushed to her chamber, not wanting anyone to hear the sobs that she could choke down no longer.
* * *
Andrew could not sit still. He kept remembering the time Roger Sinclair had surprised him in Edinburgh. He should have told Maggie of that at the time, but he had prayed it was still possible they might be happy.
Within a fortnight of the wedding, in late April two years ago, Roger had departed Perth, for Bruges, he had said, an important merchant to see. He had left Margaret alone in the partly furnished town house in Perth, and Jack Sinclair in charge of the business. Jack was a good factor. He could have made the trip for the newly wed man. Andrew had thought Roger just an overzealous merchant until he saw him in Edinburgh a week after he had supposedly sailed. Unfortunately, Roger had seen Andrew as well, concocted a plausible story, and hurried home to a delighted Margaret. But Andrew had lately learned that by June of that year Roger had again departed Perth, staying away until Michaelmas. Andrew saw that as indifference on Roger’s side. Margaret brought connections and a large dowry, and would decorate any gathering, being a lovely woman. Such reasons for marriage were not uncommon, but she deserved better. He must do something for her.
7
Her Marriage ’ s Great Chance
Margaret shooed Celia from her chamber. Her stomach burned, her breath came in gasps, she did not know whether to cry or scream. Damn the men in her life. Roger had abandoned her, Murdoch and Andrew had kept information from her, Jack had dallied with her, and none of them trusted that she had any wits.
No doubt Jack had also known of Mistress Grey. She feared all of Edinburgh knew;
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