“They died. My father from a drunken fall, my mother from a fever. My aunt offered to give me one season to come up to scratch, and after that… In fact, I have no idea what my future would have been if Sir Thomas hadn’t offered for me. I’d probably be a governess somewhere.”
“Terrorizing small children,” he murmured. “Was yours a happy marriage?”
She slowed her mount, turning to look at him. “And which of your marriages did you prefer, Lord Rohan? Were they both equally satisfying to your carnal appetites?”
“And why should you care about my carnal appetites?”
A slight flush tinted her cheekbones. Rather nice ones, he thought absently, and they set off her intense blue eyes. “I don’t. My point was that your questions were discourteously intimate.”
“I’ve never been known for my courtesy,” he said with simple truth. “My first wife, Annis, was the love of my life. She was strong-minded but passionate, and if she hadn’t died in childbirth I imagine we’d still be very happy. My second wife, Lady Barbara, also died in childbirth, though in that case I doubt the child was mine. She was headstrong and sexually voracious, and she fed those appetites with rare conviction. I’d rather not be tied to marriage again—I find it smothering, but I suppose I must eventually come up with an heir. Which is why, for a change, I’m looking for a docile young wife with no interest in anything other than pleasing me.”
Melisande snorted inelegantly. “I’m certain you’ll have your pick of them, my lord. I hope you don’t grow tired of your eventual choice. Docility can be very wearing after a while.”
“I’m surprised you even know the meaning of the word. Clearly it’s something you’ve eschewed. And as for being bored, I will, of course, look elsewhere for stimulation.”
He could almost hear her grind her teeth, and his mood lightened. Astonishing how entertaining it was to annoy his unwanted confederate.
“That’s hardly surprising. Most men have mistresses. Unfortunately that means you’re in search of two women, not one, and with your exacting standards that might be rather difficult. Particularly since I’ve removed a fair number of candidates for the second position.”
“The sad truth about whores and Cyprians and demimondaines,” Rohan began, “is that there are always more where they came from.”
She kicked her horse, surging ahead, and he let her go for a moment. By the time he caught up with her she’d managed to get her temper under control, unfortunately. She looked at him.
“Lord Rohan,” she said, her voice tight, “I am not in a good mood. I’m tired and bad-tempered and I don’t feel like dealing with what passes for conversation with you. We’ll make it through the day more successfully if we simply do not converse.”
He managed to put a contrite expression on his face. “I beg your pardon, Lady Carstairs. I had no idea I’d managed to upset you.”
“You haven’t managed to upset me,” she snapped. She took a deep breath then. “Are we almost there?”
He pulled his horse to a stop, glancing around. They’d been following a rutted and overgrown road, the trees overhead forming a tunnel of leaves. There was a forlorn, neglected air to the place, and he knew they couldn’t be far. “I think over the next rise,” he said, no longer interested in baiting her. “I’m not certain—it’s been twenty years since I’ve been here, but I have a fairly decent sense of direction. It certainly doesn’t appear to have had recent visitors. Are you certain Elsmere said Kersley Hall?”
“Certain,” she said, her voice clipped. The road took a sharp turn, heading up over a hill, and she reached the summit before he did. She stopped and waited for him, an odd expression on her face.
Kersley Hall, or what was left of it, lay spread out before them. It had burned most thoroughly, blackened spires reaching toward the sky, the stones scorched, the windows long gone. There was no roof left, and only the outbuildings remained, though they looked abandoned, as well.
“If the Heavenly Host were planning to disport themselves here then they’re a hardier bunch than I imagine,” Rohan said pensively.
“It looks so sad.” His companion was no longer paying attention to him. “It must have been here for centuries, and now everything’s gone.”
“Built at the end of the Tudors, I believe.” Rohan nudged his horse forward. “I don’t even remember who ended up inheriting the place. The family died out, and some poor relation ended up with