Even in London, they had heard of Steffan’s recklessness and of his inability to behave as a knight should. He was evidently a gambler and had stretched thin his finances because of it.
There were times when Isalyn forgot she even had a brother and, quite frankly, that was fine with her. Steffan had never made any great attempt to have a relationship with her and she had made no great attempt to have a relationship with him, so the siblings were ambivalent towards one another.
Even with this visit to Featherstone to see her father, Isalyn hadn’t even seen her brother because, according to her father, he now served the House of de Royans. That had apparently been going on for the past two years and Gilbert seemed both proud and lonely for the fact that his son served another house. Steffan had no intention of going into the family business and that, too, seemed to weigh heavily on Gilbert.
Steffan wanted to be a knight, not a worthless merchant, as he put it.
Thoughts of Isalyn’s mother and a brother faded as they drew closer to Featherstone. They could see the big manse in the distance, a jewel nestled among the pastoral greenery. Isalyn’s focus returned to Tor, riding slightly ahead of her astride one of the biggest horses she had ever seen.
She was curious about the man beyond their conversation at the tavern.
“Sir Tor?” she called.
He turned as much as he was able given the restrictions of his armor. “My lady?”
“Tor. Tor,” she said, drawing his name out. “It is an interesting name. May I beg you to tell me who you are named for?”
He smiled weakly. “My Christian name is Thomas,” he said. “I am named for my grandmother’s father, but I also have an uncle who is named Thomas. When I was serving on the Welsh Marches, the Welsh gave me the name of Tor. It means a strong and impenetrable rock formation, and my family took up calling me that as well so I would be called differently from my uncle. But my father still calls me Tommy. He is the only one who does.”
“You have a big family?”
He nodded. “I have nine siblings,” he said. “Some from my father’s first marriage, some from my stepmother’s first marriage, and then some by their marriage together. I am the second eldest, my father’s son by blood.”
Isalyn thought on having ten brothers and sisters. “That is a lot of children.”
Tor snorted. “My Uncle Tommy has eleven children although, in fairness, several of them are adopted,” he said. “The de Wolfe family is quite large.”
“There are de Wolfes in Wolverhampton, too.”
“Those are cousins. My grandfather’s eldest brother was the Earl of Wolverhampton and those are his descendants.”
It seemed like a large family, indeed. Isalyn’s gaze trailed over to the second knight in their escort, riding silently as she and Tor chattered away.
“And you, Sir Nat?” she said politely. “You are part of this enormous family?”
Caught off-guard by the question, Nat was certain the pair had forgotten about him. He’d barely said two words to the woman that Tor seemed to be quite interested in, so her question surprised him.
He was certain that he was a ghost as far as they were concerned.
“I am,” he said. “My mother is a cousin of Tor’s grandmother.”
Isalyn’s brow furrowed. “But you cannot be much older than he is.”
Nat grinned. “I am the youngest of six children,” he said. “Tor is the second eldest of the de Wolfe siblings. We were born ten years apart.”
Isalyn looked between them. “I would not have guessed that,” she said. “Are you married, Sir Nat?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Do you have children?”
“Seven.”
Isalyn blinked. “God’s Bones,” she said. “Everyone has big families but me. It is only my brother and me. I think my parents must have been lazy.”
Nat chuckled. Even Tor smiled. “Or brilliant,” he said. “Mayhap they knew that the more children they have, the more trouble there will be.”
“You think so, do you?”
“Ask my father. He’ll tell you. I’ve got three younger half-brothers who can bring about a world of trouble.”
The way he said it made her laugh. He had a humorous way about him at times, she noticed. Isalyn was thinking on how handsome he looked when he smiled, but the wind suddenly shifted and she caught a whiff of something rotten.
Her nose wrinkled.
“What’s that smell?” she asked.
Tor struggled not to react to the question. He knew exactly what it was because the wind was now blowing northwest,