idea. While there’d be no time for gowns to be made before they left, Alex could surprise her by sending word ahead to the only tailor brave enough to visit Brockburg on occasion. Neither he nor his brothers made use of him often, but Catrina had used his services before moving to Bristol. She would know how to reach him.
He would surprise Clara with a new wardrobe as his wedding gift. He’d speak to Emma about it as they were the same size.
“My ladies,” Lord Edmund bowed his head and brought Emma’s hand to his lips, then Clara’s. It was a wonder the lord’s wife was not better charmed by her husband. Alex tried not to laugh at Emma’s expression. While Clara remained passive and polite, Emma did everything but pull her hand free.
“I must speak to Lady Sara about the wretched seating arrangements,” he said, evidently referring to the location of his seat, which had been at the very opposite end of the head table from the two visions before him.
“What brings you to Kenshire, my lord?” Alex asked, attempting to distract him from the women.
“Ahh,” he said. Waving a hand toward his wife, he made a face that Alex supposed was intended to convey his answer.
“What of you, Lady Susanna?” Lord Edmund said, turning to Clara. “You’re a friend of Lady Gillian’s then?”
Without hesitation, Clara nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
“And who is your father?”
While it was common, at least in England, to establish precedence, and the question was not unusual, Alex still took a step toward Clara.
“He is—”
“A minor baron from the north. You would not know him, my lord.” Emma cut Alex off, clearly as protective of her as he was.
“How long are you staying, Lord Edmund?”
Emma tried to appear casual when she asked the question, but he knew her better. Alex wasn’t the only one who’d noted Edmund’s slight change in demeanor after they avoided his question.
Lord Edmund deigned not to answer but asked his own question instead.
“I suppose marrying across the border worked for your family?”
And while his tone was as light as it had been earlier, Alex was no longer amused. Clara’s nervousness made him more defensive than he should be.
“We are allies with Waryn, of course.”
“Allies are good,” the older man allowed. But then he shrugged. “Until they are not.”
They all looked at him, unsure of how to respond.
“Take de Clare, for instance. I say an ally like the Earl of Gloucester is worse than an enemy.”
Both Alex and Emma looked at Clara, whose face had gone white. The careful look of neutrality she’d kept thus far had vanished.
Alex took a step away from Clara, forcing the lord’s attention to him.
“Not the only man to change sides,” he said, referring to Gilbert de Clare’s famous alliance with Prince Edward. Though a staunch de Montfort supporter, the Earl of Gloucester later switched sides and was rewarded for his efforts.
Attempting to change the subject, Alex turned toward the front of the hall.
“I’ve been to Kenshire before but am always amazed by its splendor,” he said, all too aware that his brothers would laugh at such a pretty speech. But Lord Edmund was the kind of man to appreciate such things, and he needed to make him stop talking about Gloucester.
But the stubborn old fool would not be dissuaded.
“One man gets the hand of the king’s niece. Another, his head chopped off. And now rumors of a renewed effort to dissuade de Montfort’s supporters despite the treaty.”
Alex shot a quick glance at Clara, who, as expected, looked visibly upset.
“Excuse us, gentlemen,” Emma muttered. He watched as she and Clara left the hall without bidding a good evening to anyone.
Lord Edmund, fortunately, didn’t seem to suspect anything.
“Women,” he muttered, obviously bemoaning their inability to tolerate such political talk.
Alex wanted to go after her, but that would appear too suspicious. Instead, he listened to more of the elder baron’s many opinions until Lady Sara made her way over to them.
As if speaking to an older uncle whom she’d taken care of for most of her life, Sara chided Lord Edmund and guided him toward Geoffrey.
“My husband is eager to speak to you,” she said with a wink at Alex as they walked away.
If he hadn’t been so worried about Clara, Alex would have laughed at Geoffrey’s expression. He appeared none too pleased to be entertaining a man with strong opinions and an even stronger odor of ale upon him.
Poor Geoffrey.
But he had no time to worry about the Earl