…’ Graham paused, eyeing his companion warily, as though deciding how far to commit himself. Then he took a deep breath. ‘Subsequently I have had cause to repent the alliance. The Neils refused to return the balance of my daughter’s dowry.’
Ban stared at him. ‘Refused?’
‘Aye, God rot them.’
The news gave Ban pause, though not for the reasons his companion might have thought. He didn’t care about the gold. The point was that if Isabelle had only a small dowry it greatly reduced her chances of making an illustrious second match. At the same time her father wanted her off his hands. The strengthened tie with Glengarron began to look like a convenient pretext; the real reason was more concerned with the bridegroom’s own lack of expectations. Such a man could not look too high for a wife. The more he thought about it the more certain Ban became. The realisation brought with it a raft of mixed emotions. It was a bitter reminder of what had been lost, but, at the same time, this match offered a glimmer of hope—for his house at least.
‘She will still have a dowry of course, though it will not be as great as I’d have liked,’ Graham went on. ‘In spite of my representations the Neils have refused to return any part of the original portion. Until they can be persuaded otherwise that is how the matter stands.’
‘On what grounds did they refuse?’
‘On the grounds that there was no issue from the marriage.’
The question Ban had carried in the back of his mind now loomed large. However, it was a sensitive matter and he chose his words carefully. ‘No issue because the child died, perhaps?’
‘There was no child. My son-in-law was often from home in the king’s service. No doubt he thought he had time aplenty to sire heirs.’
That threw up more queries in his companion’s mind. Why would a newly married man leave his bride’s bed, particularly when the bride looked like Isabelle? Even the king would not demand such a sacrifice, unless for dire political emergency. As far as Ban was aware there hadn’t been any of those in last year or so. There was more to this matter for certain. While he didn’t think that Graham was trying to mislead him—the man had been frank thus far—he knew they hadn’t got to the truth yet either. Perhaps that resided with Isabelle herself.
‘It surprises me that Neil should have shirked so serious a responsibility,’ he said.
‘He was a fool.’ Graham hesitated. ‘Isabelle will breed, my lord.’
‘Will she?’ Ban didn’t want to antagonise his host but at the same time he had to make his own position clear. ‘You know my family history so I need not repeat it now,’ he continued. ‘The essential point is this: as the last surviving male member of my line it is imperative that I get heirs to continue it.’
‘Of course it is. I understand that.’
‘Then you will also understand that I need to be sure.’
Graham frowned. ‘What exactly are you suggesting?’
‘A secret betrothal. Later, if matters turn out as planned, the arrangement would be formalised publicly.’
‘It is not without precedent but it would not be easy to keep the matter quiet.’
‘You may rely on my discretion.’ Ban paused.
‘It’s a risk.’
‘A calculated one, since you have already said you are certain of a favourable outcome.’
‘If I agree to this I expect the matter to be expedited with all possible speed.’
‘As soon as you like.’
For a moment Graham was silent, formulating his thoughts. Ban made no attempt to push him. The proposal was not without precedent and the circumstances were unusual. At the same time he knew that he wanted Isabelle Graham; had wanted her since the day he met her. However, physical desire was one thing; he couldn’t afford to lose sight of the bigger picture. He had a duty to his family, to the souls of his murdered kin. He had to be sure.
At length Graham nodded. ‘A secret betrothal it is then, for the time being.’
‘The only remaining question is whether the lady will agree to the arrangement.’
‘Isabelle will be ruled by me.’
Ban wasn’t surprised. It was a father’s responsibility to find a suitable husband for a daughter, and her duty to accede to his choice. If Graham spoke with such confidence it was because he knew Isabelle respected his judgement. Privately Ban wondered what her true feelings would be. Would she accept him willingly or would she secretly consider such a match beneath her? Beatrice had considered it beneath her. Of course, he’d been much younger then, and inexperienced, so smitten with a lovely face that he’d failed to see the character behind. That had not become apparent until he declared himself and asked for her hand …
For a moment she stared at him. Then she laughed. ‘Marry you?’
At first he mistook the nature of the laughter, taking it for surprise. ‘Aye, why not?’
‘My father would never permit me to marry a Sassenach lord.’
‘I will speak to him, talk him round.’
‘It’s not just that,’ she replied.
‘Then what? I have wealth enough.’
‘But where are your lands, my lord?’
His smile faded. ‘They were stolen from me.’
‘And you have no prospect of regaining them.’
‘I will get more.’
‘How? You do not wield the kind of influence that would gain you an estate.’
His jaw tightened. ‘I’ll find a way.’
‘That might take years, if you ever succeed. I cannot waste my life waiting on the event.’
‘Would it be a waste then, Beatrice?’ He paused. ‘We would be together.’
‘To live in the hedgerows?’
‘Hardly that. I can support you in comfort.’
‘But you cannot give me position.’
‘Does that matter so much?’
‘Of course it matters. My father is rich and powerful, the laird of fair estates. Should not my husband be the same?’
‘I cannot blame you for wanting it,’ he replied.
‘Well then.’
