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“Pembridge.” Neda invested scorn into the name, and Edlyn jumped with guilt. “Always out for his own profit. Never thinking of what would happen to his people if he supported Simon de Montfort and he lost.”

“Simon de Montfort hasn’t lost yet.” Like an aching tooth that disturbed Edlyn’s concentration again and again, the knowledge that this was only a temporary respite from the rebellion returned to her.

“The rumors say that his support among the barons has eroded.” Neda nodded wisely.

“Nevertheless, he’ll have to be finally defeated,” Edlyn said. To accomplish that, Hugh would have to return to battle, and Edlyn would be alone to fret and cry once more.

Only, she’d sworn not to love Hugh. She’d sworn she would never look in the mirror again and see her own eyes bleak with foreboding. She hadn’t broken her own vow yet.

Had she?

Neda said briskly, “But Pembridge has already lost this holding, and that loss must grate on him. This demesne is his primary source of income, and I expected him to protect us with a little more wisdom.”

Curiosity forced Edlyn to inquire, “He didn’t marry in the past year?”

“Nay. He didn’t want to marry, he said, although he indulged himself where he would.”

“’Twas his duty to marry and carry on his line.”

“He was a single-minded man. He wanted who he wanted and no other, and I believe the one he wanted was unattainable. Although”—Neda shooed Edlyn toward the shelter of the blacksmith’s open-faced shop—“the last time he visited, he said he’d be bringing his wedded lady home within the year.”

Had Pembridge been watching her at the abbey, waiting until her time of mourning was over?

That was stupid. He wouldn’t have believed any one woman was worth so much trouble. Edlyn stilled the slight tremble in her hands. “Where is Pembridge now?”

“Chasing around after de Montfort, I suppose.”

Edlyn sighed in relief. She didn’t cherish the idea of Pembridge skulking in the forest, brooding over his dispossession. Brooding because he’d lost her.

Neda added, “Unless he’s regained his senses and gone to the prince to pledge his undying loyalty.”

“It’s too late for that.” Edlyn prayed it was so. “Hugh is in possession of this holding and of Pembridge’s title, and the prince wouldn’t be so foolish as to change his mind. He’d have Hugh in revolt then.”

Neda’s mouth quirked with a humor that flashed a previously unseen dimple in her cheek. “From what I’ve seen of your lord, that would indeed be foolhardy. Nay, Pembridge has lost Roxford, just as he deserved, and my husband will not hesitate to pledge his fealty to Lord Hugh.”

“I will so assure my lord. He’ll be pleased to know that.” She groaned as the realization struck her. “Oh, Neda, we’re going to have to organize a ceremony for Hugh’s vassals to swear fealty.”

“I can do that.”

Neda’s casual dismissal startled Edlyn. Every lord knew the importance of the ceremony of fidelity. Every vassal, every servant came to their lord, offered gifts, and swore before the priest and witnesses to support and obey their lord. Once that was done, any betrayal could be rewarded with condemnation and death.

Hugh worried Burdett would break faith with him, for despite the fact the prince had commanded Pembridge’s subjects to cleave to Hugh, some men took their own vows more seriously than the dictates of the prince. Hugh had no way of knowing if Burdett was one of those men.

Speaking slowly and seriously, Edlyn said, “This most important ceremony should be honored with a clean keep and copious feasting to bind the vassals to us with reverence and gratitude. You can organize the ceremony for the whole estate?”

“’Tis my duty, my lady.”

Edlyn took a breath to argue, but Neda stood imperturbable, like a woman who had organized hundreds of ceremonies. As she probably had. Edlyn let her breath out with a long sigh. Neda’s promise relieved her of another anxiety and left her free to concentrate on her new position of lady—and her new position of wife. “What day would be best?”

“The village reeve will have to be there, as well as the sheriff. Does the lord have other estates he wishes to involve?”

“Nay. No other estates.” Although with Hugh’s ambition…“Not yet.”

“Then…shall we say…in four days?”

“Four days.” To prepare enough food for the hundred hungry people who would come to stare at the new lord and his lady.

Even now, Neda seemed unconcerned. “Step back, my lady.” She clucked her tongue in disgust and pointed at a green shoot that curled up and around the supports of the blacksmith’s shop. “’Tis blister vine, and a pest.”