with the alliance broken and peace more or less restored, the need for discretion regarding Kristina was no longer so urgent. He was free to tell Francesca about her.
Except what was the point in him telling her? With them both considering divorce, did it matter?
He closed the chest with a thud and swore under his breath. It mattered. For some unfathomable reason he wanted Francesca to know about Kristina.
Obviously, he couldn’t tell her immediately, she had enough on her mind with Count Myrrdin’s illness. Soon though.
Yes, he would tell her about his daughter after she had bid farewell to Count Myrrdin—Papa, as she called him.
Tight-lipped, Tristan pushed to his feet and went to the top of the stairwell. ‘Ernis, are you still in the hall? Ernis!’
Heavy boots sounded on the boards below. ‘My lord?’
‘Secure Lady Francesca’s coffers and have them sent on after us, will you? No need to send them to Fontaine, they can go directly to des Iles with your next report.’
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