Chapter 26
G enevieve de Piaget stood at the doorway of her husband’s castle and watched as two paths diverged. The one her husband was taking led to the lists, which didn’t surprise her. The one her sister-in-law—a woman she’d never thought to ever encounter this side of the grave—was taking led toward the stables. Genevieve chose the one of a less-equine nature, because she was fairly sure it would, as Frost would have said, make all the difference.
It was going to be Kendrick’s job to find his way down that other road.
It had been a very interesting couple of hours, what with the arrival of a woman who she had assumed had been dead for centuries, the ejection out the front door of that woman’s would-be suitor, and yet another man added to the mix in the person of Michael Smythe-Gordon, who apparently had more vindictiveness than sense.
Kendrick had listened to the Viscount Franbury only long enough to realize he was a small-minded fool who was only being polite in order to dig up paranormal dirt on Zachary Smith. He’d thrown Franbury out the front door, citing lack of time for such a ridiculous conversation.
Too close to home, no doubt.
There had then ensued another round of shouting, tears, and conversations in the vintage French that Genevieve had been very relieved she’d taken the trouble to learn. Trouble had begun to brew when Kendrick had told Mary how she was going to conduct her affairs from then on. When he’d frisked her and confiscated her mobile phone, the discussions had deteriorated rapidly into threats and curses.
Genevieve had watched her five boys watching the goings-on with openmouthed astonishment.
Mary had turned to her and demanded directions to the stables. She hadn’t dared not give them. Kendrick had stomped off after his sister, but apparently thought better of following her, hence the diverging paths. Genevieve had followed at a distance because her husband had wept and he rarely wept. She had to see if there was anything left of him.
She walked around the castle and through gardens that were a perfect front for the very medieval-looking lists in the back. Her husband used that bit of ground regularly for its intended purposes. He lured their sons out there just as regularly, which wasn’t an effort, given that they were just as driven as he was.
It was in the genes, apparently.
Today, though, the lists weren’t being used for training with the sword or the schooling of horses. They were empty except for a man sitting on a bench pushed up against a wall. Genevieve walked over to that bench and sat down. She looked at her husband.
“Are you possessed?” she asked bluntly.
He shot her a dark look. “Nay, ’tis just me. The horse’s arse you wed.”
“What happened to you?”
“I think I became my father.”
Genevieve laughed in spite of herself, then leaned back against the wall and began to rub her hand over his back. “I imagine you didn’t see this one coming.”
He was silent for a very long time, then he turned to look at her. His eyes were very red. “I was on the Continent when she died. I came back to find her gone almost two years and my parents well past their grief. I hardly had time to grieve before the whole business with Seakirk came to the fore. And then ... well, you know what happened then.” He paused. “I loved my sister deeply.”
“She is a lot like you.”
“Trouble?”
“Well,” Genevieve said, trying not to smile, “I wasn’t going to say that, but since you did, I’ll agree. She certainly isn’t shy about expressing her opinion.”
“Heard her, did you?”
“Kendrick, everyone in the village probably heard her. I don’t think you’re going to find her to be very tractable.”
He sighed and dragged his hands through his hair. “I don’t want that Smith character taking her away before I’ve had a chance to have her to myself for a bit.” He paused. “A few months. Maybe longer.”
“She loves him.”
“She can love him all she likes—from a distance. I am her nearest living relative and I will decide if and when she’s to have anything to do with him.”
Genevieve cleared her throat carefully. “You know, husband, those are pretty potent juices you’re stewing yourself in.”
He only scowled.
“She can use the phone, you know.”
“I took hers away.”
“She’ll find another.”
“I forbade her!”
“I imagine she’ll ignore you when she’s finished cleaning your stables.”
endrick scowled a bit more. “’Tis a good place for her. She loves horses.”
“She loves him more.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
He slapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to go remind her who is in charge.”
“Good luck.”
He shot her a dark look before he stomped off, cursing.
Genevieve watched another pair of paths meet and then diverge. The eldest of her triplet sons, Robin, exchanged a brief word with his father, then continued on toward her. He sat down and stared off over the lists for quite some time, just as his father had done, then he turned to look at her.
“My aunt?”
She nodded solemnly.
“Mum, you have a bit of explaining to do.”
“Going to draw your sword and motivate me if I refuse?”
He only gave her an arch look so reminiscent of his father that she laughed. What a delightful life she had, a life that was colored with so many things that didn’t find themselves in the current century.
Just as Zachary Smith’s would be, if he had the chance.
She stood up and waited for her eldest to do the same. Robin offered her his arm as he’d seen his father do countless times. She took his arm, sighed at the fact that she was going to be looking up at him sooner than she wanted to be, then nodded toward the castle.
“Let’s make the big circle, Robin.”
“Will the tale be a long one?”
“Yes, son. It will be.” Almost eight hundred years’ worth, she added to herself. But he was his father’s son, and he had spent his life getting into things he should have stayed out of. She didn’t imagine much would come as a surprise to him. She had great hopes that her conversation would go well.
She didn’t hold out the same hope for her husband.