The Falls of Erith by Kathryn Le Veque Page B

poverty had not yet touched her. It made Braxton dislike the lady all the
more.
    Lady
de Montfort sat in a chair near the lancet window, a piece of embroidery in her
hand.  It wasn’t a very nice square of material, old and yellowed, but the work
on it was exquisite. Braxton glanced at the piece as the woman laid it in her
lap, fighting off building resentment for two reasons; Gray had told him she
did not know any leisurely skills, which meant her mother had not seen fit to
teach her. Secondly, by the look of the work, it had taken many, many hours to
do. This meant that while Gray was blistering her hands with harsh work, her
mother was wiling away the hours with dainty hobbies.  It was a struggle to
keep his rage at bay.
    “Sir
Braxton,” Constance greeted him evenly. “To what do I owe the honor of your
visit?”
    Braxton
stood near the door, keeping a rein on his patience. “You and I have something
to discuss, my lady.”
    Constance
lifted her eyebrows. “I cannot imagine what that is, unless you seek my advice
on something. What is your wish?”
    Haughty
till the end , he
thought. “I do not seek your advice nor counsel, madam. But I believe we may
have a situation arising that could or could not be of your doing.”
    “What
is that?”
    He
shifted on his big legs, folding muscular arms over his chest. “Brooke has told
me that you have sent out solicitations for her hand in marriage, unbeknownst
to her mother. Is this true?”
    Constance’s
thin face tightened. “What business is it of yours?”
    “More
than you know. Did you do this?”
    As
shrewd as Constance was, Braxton was doubly.  But the older woman would not
allow herself to be cornered. “This is none of your affair, Sir Braxton. You
will kindly leave my chamber.”
    He
lifted an eyebrow. “I am not going anywhere until you answer the question.”
    So
he could not be ordered around. Constance rethought her strategy. “If it is?”
    “Then
we have a party approaching Erith at this moment who, I suspect, might be
coming in response to your offer. If that is the case, your daughter is going
to discover the truth.”
    Constance
stood up. “Where is my daughter?”
    “In
the solar.”
    The
woman grabbed her shawl and swung it over her slender shoulders, making way for
the door. Braxton waited until she had passed him before speaking.
    “You
do not own the rights to Brooke’s hand, my lady.”
    She
paused, hand on the door latch. “Your statement is not only rude, it is
insolent.”
    His
blue-green eyes were hard, like blades of sharpened steel. “Perhaps,” his voice
lowered. “But it is the truth. Listen to me now and understand what I am
saying. You do not own the rights to Brooke’s hand. I do. I bought them from a
man who had acquired them from Garber Serroux in payment for a gambling debt.”
    He
could see from the expression on the woman’s face that she was rattled.  She
instinctively clutched her shawl more tightly about her.
    “So
you are here to claim Brooke?” For the first time, the confidence was out of
her tone. “Why did you just not say so?”
    “I
am not here to claim Brooke,” Braxton clarified. “But she, and Erith, belongs
to me.”
    Constance’s
expression turned suspicious. “You have no proof of this.”
    “I
have a document signed by Neil Wenvoe that relinquishes his claim to Brooke
Serroux and Erith to me for the sum of thirty thousand gold marks.  These
rights were given to Wenvoe to forgive a debt incurred by Garber Serroux.”
    Constance
attempted to maintain her defensive stance. God knows she did. But Braxton
watched all of the fight drain out of her, for the very first time since he had
met her.  When she realized he would not be withered by her stare, she averted
her gaze.
    “I
see,” she murmured. “Does Gray know any of this?”
    He
felt himself relent, if only just a little. “Nay,” he replied. “Though I do
mean to tell her.”
    “When?”
    “I
am not sure. She is only now