“I did not want him to mention it to the king. Hal would consider it a fault that I visited San Lorenzo in the company of a Scots earl, I fear. I hoped he would not learn of it, especially now that I am to marry Patrick Leslie. I need no interference from our lusty king,” Rosamund answered him. “Nothing happened in San Lorenzo that would have been of real interest to any king, let alone Henry Tudor. I think, however, Lord Howard felt the need to report something, lest he be considered useless to his master.”

“The king said nothing to me,” Tom responded. “If the purpose of Lord Leslie’s mission was not public, then I believe you have no cause to fear.”

“I hope not,” Rosamund replied. “You know how jealous Hal can be.”

Tom changed the subject, smiling at his cousin and saying, “I have a proposal to make to you, dear girl. While I have inherited great wealth, there is still my grandfather’s enterprise, which supplies me with more funds each year. You have said since your return that you would like to market your fine woolen cloth in France. I believe we should go even farther than France.”

“I have not the wool for a larger market, Tom,” she answered him.

“That is true. But we can increase your flocks over the next few years while building a demand for the wool, and particularly the Friarsgate Blue cloth,” he told her. “I cannot sit idle once Otterly is rebuilt, dear girl. I need an amusement. I think we should own a ship in which to transport the cloth abroad. What do you think? We could have a new vessel built in the shipyards in Leith while we prepare. It will take at least two years for us to make ready on all fronts, my dear Rosamund.”

“Build our own ship?” She was thoughtful. “I have not the means for it, Tom.”

“Of course you don’t, but I do,” he said calmly. “We shall be partners in this venture, cousin. I shall supply the vessel and any funding necessary. You shall supply the wool and the labor.”

“It would appear that you are putting up more than I am,” Rosamund answered him. “And we will need more sheep. You must be the senior partner in such an undertaking, Tom.”

“We shall be equal partners,” he told her. “Think on it, Rosamund. While the initial outlay is mine, afterwards most of the responsibility will fall on your shoulders. Besides, you and your daughters are my heirs. Why should you have to wait until I am dead and gone to benefit from my largesse? Especially when we can build something together.”

“It is such a generous offer,” Rosamund said.

“It is my Twelfth Night gift to you, dear girl,” he told her with a broad smile. “Until you came along, cousin, I was but marking time. My life was dull and seemingly endless. After my sister died I had no one, but then you entered my life. I began to enjoy myself again. I found new meaning. I have a family once more. We shall build this little enterprise of ours together, Rosamund. Now say thank you, Tom, and agree with me.”

Rosamund burst out laughing. “Thank you, Tom,” she responded. “I do agree with you. Friarsgate wool is finer than much of what I saw in France. I do believe there is a market for it. We shall make a market for it!”

“And by keeping the supply low at first, we may keep the price high,” he chuckled. “God’s blood! There speaks the merchant in me. The king and his court would be most horrified to hear Lord Cambridge speaking thusly.” He was wearing a most satisfied grin. “But then, I never really was of noble blood,” he chuckled again.

“I am amazed at you coming to settle back in Cumbria,” Rosamund said. “Once I remember you telling me that it was beautiful, but you wondered how I bore the lack of civilized company. Yet now you are willing to do so.”

“That was before my family reappeared,” he defended himself. “And I did keep the houses in London and Greenwich. We will go sometimes, and the girls must one day visit the court. We cannot have them growing up thinking Friarsgate is the world, even if it is the best part of it.”

“When are you beginning your reconstruction of Otterly?” she asked him.

“The house is being torn down now,” he said, “and the site will be cleared, but we cannot begin building until the spring. I shall start after your wedding to the earl.”

“What are we to do with Uncle Henry in the meantime?” she said.

“I had a small but comfortable house constructed for him this autumn past. He has been living there with Mistress Dodger, the housekeeper I hired to look after him. Twelfth Night is almost over, cousin. Tomorrow we shall send Uncle Henry back to his own little nest. It is time. He is beginning to look too comfortable here at Friarsgate, and I find he asks too many questions. I suspect for all his tale of woe he is yet in contact with his son Henry the younger. He has said to me that he wishes he might save this lad from a bad life and a worse end.”

Rosamund nodded. “I don’t want him getting the idea that he might marry his son to one of my girls,” she said. “I would put Friarsgate to the torch before I allowed that.”

“We will see his dreams have no basis in reality,” Tom replied.

“And yet I cannot help but feel sorry for him,” she answered. “Still, I am not quite able yet to forgive him my youth. I do not really recall my parents, but from the time they died and Henry Bolton came into my life, I was miserable. Only when Hugh came was I safe. I want to be generous of nature to him, Tom, but I just cannot be.”

“Then do not,” he advised her. “Edmund and Richard have been almost saintly in their forgiveness, but they did not suffer the brunt of Henry Bolton. You did. Perhaps one day you will be able to forgive him, but now is not the time.”

Rosamund took her cousin’s hand in her own and kissed it tenderly. “You are so wise, Tom. If you are grateful for me, I am doubly grateful for you.”


***

The following day Henry was transported in a comfortable covered cart back to his own home. Before he left he looked about the hall a final time. Seeing Philippa, he remarked, “Your eldest is nine, niece?”

“In April,” Rosamund said. “Why?”

“My Henry is fifteen now. A good age for marriage.”

“My cousin has become a thief. Hardly a match for an heiress,” Rosamund said tartly. She led him from the hall, and a servant helped him into the cart.

“ ’Tis only that he has no home any longer, and his mam’s behavior broke his heart, niece. With a bit of good fortune he could become an upstanding man once again,” Henry reasoned.

“I wish him good luck, then,” Rosamund replied. Then she added, “But put from your mind any thought of a marriage between your son and my child. My girls will marry with men of higher station. Their wealth will bring them that.”

“You would put Friarsgate into the hands of strangers?” he demanded, his color suddenly high. “This has always been Bolton land.”

“As long as there were Bolton sons, it was Bolton land,” Rosamund reasoned with him. “But there are no more Bolton sons, uncle.”

“There is my son,” he told her in a hard voice.

“And he will never wed with my daughter,” Rosamund told him firmly. She patted her uncle’s hand. “I am glad you came for the Twelve Days of Christmas, uncle. I believe your visit has done you good. You seem stronger than when you arrived. Farewell now, and God go with you.” She turned, and hurried back into the house. She could feel her anger rising. Damn Henry Bolton and his spawn! Would the man never give up his quest for Friarsgate? No, she thought. Not as long as he lived.


The winter set in about them. The hills were white with the snows. The lake froze for a short time. Rosamund, Tom, and the girls, bundled in their warmest capes and furs, amused themselves sliding upon the icy surface of the water. They celebrated Candlemas on the second of February, and at midmonth the ewes began lambing. The shepherds watched over their flocks carefully. There had been a rumor of a wolf in the district, and the new lambs were an easy target.

“Put them in the barns at night,” Rosamund ordered. “I will lose not a one.”

“We will purchase some of those Shropshires you’ve wanted, come spring,” Tom said.

She nodded with her agreement. “Aye, I should like a flock of them, Tom.”

The shortest month was quickly over, and the hills began to show signs of life again, greening slowly as the month progressed. She had heard nothing more from Patrick but then he had warned her it would be nigh impossible to get another message through to her.

It would take two days to reach Edinburgh from Friarsgate. Annie, of course, would not be able to come with her mistress. Her younger sister, Lucy, had been being trained all winter to temporarily take her place and in future act as Annie’s helper. Annie was disappointed, but every time she looked at her infant son she realized she was more content to have her wee Harry than to go with her mistress.

They had all been sewing thoughout the winter so that Philippa might have two new gowns to take with her when she accompanied her mother. The young girl had her mother’s coloring. One of Philippa’s gowns was a medium blue velvet, and the other was a rich brown. Philippa was so excited she could hardly remain still at the fittings. She was also to have new chemises and caps. The Friarsgate cobbler made the young girl a pair of square-toed shoes with round enamel buckles decorated with colorful paste jewels.

“I have never had shoes like this!” she exclaimed excitedly when she was presented with them.

“They are for Edinburgh,” Rosamund said. “You’ll be wearing your boots until we get there. These shoes must last you a good long while, unless, of course, your feet grow too quickly. Try not to let your feet grow, Philippa,” her mother cautioned.


***

Spring now took hold at Friarsgate with the ice gone from the lake and the white sheep dotting the green hillsides. Midmorning of the twenty-eighth, Rosamund and her little party departed for Edinburgh. She had resigned herself to spending the night at Claven’s Carn. There was simply no way they could bypass it and reach decent shelter. She sent a messenger ahead with her request for shelter, and in late afternoon they reached their destination.

“Do try and behave, dear girl,” Tom teased her wickedly.

Rosamund shot her cousin a fierce look. “I will, if he will,” she replied, and Tom cackled with laughter.

They passed through into Claven’s Carn’s courtyard to be met by a Hepburn clansman who helped them from their horses and escorted them into the Great Hall.

Jeannie came forward, smiling, to greet them. “Rosamund Bolton, it is good to see you once again. Lord Cambridge. And who is this lovely lassie? Your daughter, from the look of her.” She took Rosamund’s two hands in hers and kissed her on both cheeks. Then she gave her hand to Tom who kissed it gallantly.

“My dear lady,” he said, “you positively bloom, I am pleased to see.”

“Come sit by the fire and warm yourself,” Jeannie invited them. “The spring is trying to gain hold here in the borders, but it was still, I will wager, a cold ride.”

She signaled to a servant, and he brought a tray of mulled wine forth for her guests.

“This is my daughter Philippa Meredith,” Rosamund introduced her child to the lady of Claven’s Carn.

Philippa curtsied beautifully. “Madame,” she said.

“Your eldest?” was the polite query.

“Aye,” Rosamund answered her. “And your bairn?”

Jeannie nodded to a cradle by her side. “He sleeps,” she said. “He is such a fine laddie! He shall have a brother come the autumn.” And her hand went to her belly proudly.

“Or a sister,” Logan said, coming into his hall. “Lord Cambridge. Madame.” He came to stand behind his wife.

“Nay, Logan, ’tis another wee laddie I carry,” Jeannie insisted.

“This is my daughter Philippa,” Rosamund introduced her eldest.

“You have grown somewhat since the last time I saw you, Mistress Philippa,” Logan said quietly.

“There was nowhere else where we could break our journey, my lord,” Rosamund quickly said.

“You are welcome,” he replied. “To where do you travel?”

“Edinburgh,” Rosamund said briefly.

“Mama is being married to the Earl of Glenkirk, and I am to be her witness!” Philippa said excitedly. “I have two new gowns and a pair of shoes with buckles!”

“How marvelous!” Jeannie said. “What color are your gowns, Mistress Philippa? And shoes with buckles, too!”

“One gown is blue, and the other is a fine golden brown, madame,” Philippa replied.

“What a lucky girl you are!” the lady of Claven’s Carn responded, smiling. Then she turned to Rosamund. “The earl is the gentleman who traveled with you last summer?”