Reading sample Aged to Perfection

Prologue

“I suppose you’d all like to know why I called you here today.”

Cedric Godwin, Marquess of Amesbury, jerked his head up from the warm scotch whiskey with butter he’d been sipping beside the massive fireplace in the castle’s grand parlor. He’d had his head together in conversation with his cousin, Lord Alden Godwin, as usual when the family gathered. Alden was more like a brother than a cousin to him. The two of them had been complaining about the unusual cold that always seemed to pervade the ancient castle and the eerie feeling both of them and their brothers always had whenever they visited the Godwin family’s ancestral home.

Those others, including Cedric’s brothers, Lawrence and Waldorf, and Alden’s brother, Dunstan, were scattered variously around the room.

Waldorf sat at a desk tucked in a corner by a window that looked out over the English Channel, scribbling away on one of the letters he was always writing. He only paused to rub his hand over the ridiculous whiskers he’d grown down the sides of his face that were, contrary to his opinion, not remotely fashionable.

Lawrence sat on one of the settees that was decades out of fashion, telling some sort of wild tale to his and Cedric’s sister, Wystan, that involved expansive arm gestures and a bright, sunny smile. Wystan smiled at him and nodded along with his words, clearly trying not to laugh where she shouldn’t.

Poor Dunstan sat on his own by the window opposite Waldorf’s position, gazing forlornly out at the mainland of England, probably without seeing it. The only thing that shook him out of his defeated gloom was when Mrs. Weatherby, the housekeeper – though how a woman became housekeeper at a castle when she could not have possibly been much past thirty was a mystery to Cedric – offered him one of the warming whiskey drinks she’d been passing around.

All of them, including Mrs. Weatherby, glanced up and turned to Gerald Godwin, Duke of Amesbury, when he made his announcement.

“It is highly irregular to gather all my sons and nephews at this drafty old castle at this time of year, I’ll warrant,” Old Gerald said as he shuffled into the room, his cane knocking on the floor with each step as he made his way over to his favorite chair. The chair in question was close to the fireplace, but also gave him a clear line of sight out of nearly all the windows in the room.

Wystan rose from the settee, clearing her throat noticeably, and swept across the room to help her father seat himself comfortably.

“Yes, yes, you as well, my dear,” Gerald said, waving off Wystan’s efforts to help. “I have not forgotten my daughters or nieces in any of this, but as you will soon learn, the matter in question today does not involve any of my or my dear, departed brother’s female offspring.”

“Then I shall withhold my ire at my, my sisters’, and my cousins’ exclusion from this mysterious cabal until after you say your piece, Papa,” Wystan said. She kissed her father’s cheek, then returned to the sofa to sit beside Lawrence once more.

“Yes, well.” Gerald huffed and grumbled, then coughed, which made Cedric exceedingly anxious. His father had recently celebrated his eightieth birthday, and while he was sound of mind and body in many ways, the dear man was old.

“Does this have anything to do with our home farms and family business?” Cedric asked, stepping away from the warmth of the fireplace and joining the rest of his family as they gathered to sit in the circle of chairs and sofas in front of Gerald’s chair. “I can assure you, Father, that I have been attending to the farms steadfastly, and I have been putting my all into building up our cheese-making enterprises. By the time of the cheese festival in Winchester this summer, I am confident that I will be able to secure an export deal that will ensure our family fortunes for years to come.”

“No, no, no,” Gerald said, pinching his face and shaking his head. He paused, then said, “Well, yes, our family enterprises are of utmost importance. We must keep up competition with those bastards in Cheddar.”

Wystan cleared her throat once more.

“Sorry, my dear,” Gerald said. “I shall endeavor to monitor my language more carefully from henceforth.” He rested his hands on the head of his cane, which he’d planted between his knees on the floor in front of him, took a breath, then frowned at Cedric. “Your attentiveness to our financial endeavors is part of the problem, sir.”

Cedric frowned, more than a little taken aback. “I have always done my duty to this family and to Wessex,” he said, confused.

“Yes. Well, no. You have and you haven’t,” Gerald said. “None of you have.”

Cedric was lost. His brothers and cousins appeared lost as well.

Gerald sighed and rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded distinctly as though he were calling his and his brother’s male progeny complete dunderheads.

“Have we disappointed you somehow, Uncle?” Alden asked, his expression sincerely caring. “If that is the case, I can assure you that it was never our intention.”

Alden’s care and concern would have been more serious had a small lizard not popped its head out of the pocket of his jacket at just that moment. With a slight flush, Alden stroked a finger over the green thing’s head before nudging it back into the safety of his pocket.

“Really, Alden,” Gerald said, rolling his eyes even harder. “Your silly hobby is a large part of why I have called you here today.”

“Herpetology is a science, not a hobby,” Alden said with just enough hurt that Cedric needed to cover his face to hide his smile. His cousin was just a tad eccentric. Alden’s estate near London was more of a zoological museum than a gentleman’s home.

“Yes, well, herpetology may be a science, but it is not a wife,” Gerald said. He turned his scrutinizing gaze to all of his sons and nephews in turn. “None of you lot have wives, and none of you have heirs.”

Cedric cleared his throat.

“Legitimate heirs,” Gerald corrected himself, narrowing his eyes at Cedric. “Considering your ages, that is an unforgivable disgrace.”

“Five and forty is not old, Father,” Waldorf insisted. “Not at all.”

“It is when you are the youngest of your siblings,” Gerald said. “How all of you managed to reach the later years of your forties or the early years of your fifties without settling down to marry and start a family is a puzzle and a disgrace.”

“Dunstan was married,” Wystan pointed out, though from the abject gloom that statement caused in Dunstan, Cedric wasn’t certain it was a kind observation.

Gerald growled, which was precisely the sort of emotion Cedric also felt at the mention of his late sister-in-law. “Charlotte was a shrew and a bitch. The kindest thing that woman ever did was losing her footing on that bridge and falling into the Thames.”

“Father,” Cedric scolded as Wystan gasped and the others looked startled by the strength of the condemnation.

“Well, it’s true,” Gerald said. He nodded to Dunstan. “That woman made your brother’s life a misery and destroyed his spirit. He’s half the man he used to be.”

“Papa, how can you be so cruel to Dunstan?” Wystan said, standing up for her cousin.

“No, no, he’s right,” Dunstan sighed. “I was foolishly trapped into marrying Charlotte and I paid the price for my foolishness.”

Wystan huffed, as though she did not agree.

“Regardless, Charlotte does not count,” Gerald went on. “As far as I am concerned, all of you have been exceedingly remiss in not marrying and having a family as you should. But I am about to change all that.”

A tight, slightly sick feeling formed in the pit of Cedric’s stomach. “Surely, Father, we are all much too old for you to arrange marriages for us.”

“I would never dream of doing such a thing,” Gerald said with a sniff. “If I had such intentions, I would have done it twenty years ago, when my beloved Ethel was still with us.”

Cedric swallowed the sudden lump that came to his throat as the rest of them bowed their heads in respectful and heartfelt grief. His mother, Ethel, had been loved and adored by her husband, her children, and the nieces and nephews for whom she had been like a mother after Cedric’s Uncle Ross and Aunt Diana had been tragically killed in a boating accident when they were all children. Cedric’s mother had passed away far too early in life after a long, wasting disease, ten years before.

Gerald broke the grieving silence that followed with, “That is why you will all find your own wives.”

The heavy moment was broken and replaced by puzzlement and confusion.

“What if we have no time to find ourselves a wife?” Waldorf asked with an impatient frown.

“You will do so anyhow,” Gerald said, raising his voice. “All of you will.”

“You cannot mean that,” Lawrence said.

“What if I’ve no wish to remarry?” Dunstan asked simultaneously.

“There isn’t time for wife-hunting,” Cedric said overtop of the two.

“You will marry,” Gerald silenced them all with his booming command. He immediately fell into a coughing fit that did more to silence them than his shouting had.

Wystan leapt off the sofa and hurried to attend to her father. “Papa, you aren’t well. Perhaps you should lie down.”

“You are correct,” he said, but in a tone of voice as if she’d disagreed with him. “I am ill. So ill, in fact, that my life may come to an end at any time.”

“Don’t say that, Father,” Lawrence said.

“You still look hale and hearty to me,” Alden added.

“I am ill, I tell you,” Gerald insisted, slapping the arm of his chair vigorously.

Cedric questioned just how ill his father was, but he did not have time to ask those questions aloud.

“I may die at any time,” Gerald restated. “I should like to see a few grandchildren – legitimate grandchildren,” he specified, frowning at Cedric, “before I meet my great reward.”

“Father, you cannot just order the lot of us to marry,” Lawrence argued. “We aren’t green young men at the beginnings of our lives. We are all aged and established. Alden has his reptiles. Cedric has his cheese. Waldorf has – ” Waldorf frowned at him so sharply that Lawrence nearly jumped in his seat. “ – all the things that Waldorf does,” Lawrence finished in a strangled voice.

“You will set all of that aside and go find wives,” Gerald said.

“And what if we do not?” Cedric asked. He wasn’t particularly inclined to marry. He’d been deeply and desperately in love once. That love had produced two children, Leo and Grace, who were the lights of his life. When their mother, his mistress, Claudia, had died in childbirth, along with their third child, fifteen years ago, he hadn’t thought he could stand the pain of the loss.

He had no wish to endure that sort of sorrow again.

“You will all marry,” Gerald continued his directive, growing more energetic as he went, “or you will suffer the consequences.”

Silence fell over the room once more. Even Mrs. Weatherby – who had left the room but just returned with a tray of tea things – stood still, not daring to breathe.

“What sort of consequences?” Cedric asked at last.

Gerald smiled, a devious light glittering in his eyes. “I shall leave it up to you who you marry and how,” he said. “But as I said, my time here on this earth is growing short. I must think about my will and which of you will inherit what. That includes this castle.”

A shiver passed down Cedric’s spine, and with it, a growing sense of foreboding.

“Godwin Castle?” Lawrence asked in a terrified, wavering voice.

“Yes,” Gerald said, the Devil’s own excitement in his eyes. “This castle. This cursed castle.”

Cedric gulped. He could practically hear his brothers’ and cousins’ hearts pounding with fear.

That fear expanded to fill the entire room when Gerald said, “Whichever of you is the last to marry will be named in my will as the heir to Godwin Castle.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop precipitously at that pronouncement. Cedric’s hands went clammy. If he hadn’t set his whiskey glass down when he took a seat, he was certain he would have dropped it. Lawrence looked as though he might be sick. Dunstan had hunched in on himself. Alden was so startled he didn’t notice the lizard escaping from his pocket and climbing up to perch on his shoulder, flickering its tongue in his ear. Even Waldorf, who was stoic and unflappable, looked stricken.

“Got you there, didn’t I,” Gerald said, grinning victoriously at his sons and nephews. He turned to Wystan and said, “Now do you see why you and the other girls are not involved? Wessex law forbids women from inheriting property.”

“And I have never approved of that in the least,” Wystan said, pressing her hand to her stomach. “Until now.”

“Besides which,” Gerald continued with a shrug. “You’re already married.”

“Widowed,” Wystan corrected him, then gasped. “But I suppose that is part of the curse.”

The curse of Godwin Castle. Everyone in Wessex knew about it. Cedric had no doubt that everyone in all of England had heard of it.

The curse stretched back to the building of the original castle in the nine hundreds, to the time when Aethelstan had attempted to unite the kingdoms of England but had failed. Godwin Castle, and many others, had been built to fend off attacks by the armies of Queen Aethelflaed – who had seized power from her brother, Edward Aethelwold in Mercia after the death of their father, Alfred – and later, the armies of Aethelflaed’s daughter and successor, Queen Aelfwynn. They had helped arrest the attempted invasion by the Viking king, Sihtric, who had established himself as King of Northumbria, a few years later. And the castle had stood strong again, in the mid-eleventh century, when William the Bastard, Duke of Normandy, had tried and failed to invade and conquer the British Isles.

The curse was as burned into history and legend as those remarkable events that had shaped the New Heptarchy – although Cedric doubted an alliance that had been in place for eight hundred years could be considered new. Family lore had it that the original Godwin, Aethelbore, had promised to marry a local woman, Morgana Whitney, and had given her half of an amulet that had been gifted to him by the King of Wessex. He’d gone back on his promise, though, and married the king’s daughter instead.

Morgana had been so enraged, seeing as Aethelbore had already gotten her with child, that she put a curse on the castle. Until the two halves of the amulet were rejoined and a Godwin married a Whitney, death and disaster would befall any member of the Godwin family who possessed the castle.

Aethelbore had laughed off the curse…until his firstborn son fell from the battlements to his death. When his second son took possession of the castle, that man’s firstborn son was killed in battle before the age of twenty. And so it continued, without fail, for generations. It wasn’t just the firstborn son of the family who met an untimely end. In every generation since Aethelbore, tragedy befell the family. The curse was real, and everyone knew it.

The worst part of it was, the Whitney family had died out centuries ago, and the amulet had been lost to time. Eight hundred years had passed, and the Godwins had given up hope of ever undoing the curse. Aethelbore’s half of the amulet was one of the family’s most prized possessions, and it was currently locked away in a vault deep in the heart of the castle, but the other half was thought to be long destroyed.

“You cannot be serious, Father,” Cedric said. “Is it not bad enough that our poor family is forced to endure this curse? Do you have to make it that much worse by hanging it over our heads and using it as a lure to get us to marry?”

“I do not feel even the slightest bit of shame in using our family’s sorrow to create its greatest happiness,” Gerald said with a shrug. “I know you all believe in the curse, and using it is the last resort to incentivize the lot of you to do what you should have done years ago.”

No one spoke after that. There didn’t seem to be any point. Gerald Godwin had made up his mind, and once that was made up, there was no changing it.

When Mrs. Weatherby continued forward, placing the tea tray on the table in front of Gerald’s chair, the rest of them breathed again. The poor woman was pale, and her blue eyes were wide, as if she’d seen the ghosts of the castle as Gerald made his edict.

“So that’s it, then,” Cedric said, pushing a shaky hand through his hair. “We must all marry.”

“Not necessarily,” Waldorf said, grinning at Gerald, like he’d found a way out of the mess. “If none of us marry, then there will not be a last one.”

Gerald frowned for a moment, then said, “I will leave the castle jointly to any of you who do not marry. Each one of your names will be written in the will.”

That sobered Waldorf up in an instant. “Bastard,” he muttered, glaring at Gerald. When Wystan cleared her throat, his glare softened to a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

“I think I will leave you all to your marital discussions,” Wystan said, standing. “I believe I might return home to Winchester to have a word with Edgar.”

Edgar was her son, who had just reached a marriageable age. Cedric didn’t blame her. There was no telling how far the curse, or Gerald’s dictates, would extend.

“I might as well return to Winchester with you,” Dunstan said, rising and smiling sadly at Wystan. “Something tells me I should get my affairs in order.”

Cedric’s heart went out to his cousin. He knew full well Dunstan had been so scarred by his marriage to Charlotte that it would take something monumental to convince him to marry again. Cedric had no doubt that Charlotte herself was part of the curse that had already affected Dunstan.

It was himself and the rest of his brothers and Alden who Cedric was worried about now. Inheriting the Godwin Castle curse would surely bring about the destruction of everything he had spent the better part of his life trying to build to ensure the continuation of the family’s fortune. The very last thing he needed now was to have his endeavors shattered because he was too preoccupied to do something as simple as marrying.

There was nothing for it. He would be the dutiful son he’d always tried to be and marry with all haste.

He just wasn’t certain how one went about finding and wooing a suitable woman with no time to spare.

Chapter One

Cedric strode hurriedly down Romsey Road toward the heart of Winchester, the collar of his great coat pulled up and the brim of his topper pulled down to keep the incessant rain from trickling down his neck and soaking his jacket and waistcoat. His daughter, Grace, had only recently sent him the fine garments, which had been constructed by her new husband, Henry Spode, a tailor in Exeter, and he was loath to damage them. Grace was under no obligation to keep him well-dressed, and the fact that she did so only made him love the dear child more.

That love and the tenderness with which he regarded his illegitimate daughter – whom he had raised, along with Leo, as if they were every bit as legitimate as he’d been, and damn the gossip – along with the weather, was what had him in such an exceedingly foul mood as he tromped his way past Winchester Castle and on down the High Street, heading for The Royal Oak pub.

How dare his father demand that he marry at his august age? Cedric had everything he possibly could have wanted, and more than he likely deserved, as it was. He and Claudia had never married – it would have been impossible for him to marry the daughter of one of his tenant farmers at Templecombe Abbey, but that did not mean he’d loved Claudia any less. As far as he was concerned, he’d been married, the marriage had produced two remarkable young people whom Cedric loved with his whole heart, and his father could go soak his head.

None of that diminished Cedric’s fear of the Curse of Godwin Castle, however.

Regardless of the more annoying aspects of the situation he currently found himself in where his father’s wishes and the curse were concerned, Cedric had important business to attend to. Wessex might have been one of the most fertile and productive kingdoms in the New Heptarchy, but livestock did not husband themselves, and the cheese that was produced as a result of the intensive efforts of Leo, as his land steward, did not take itself to market, either at home or abroad. Furthermore, it was the duty of every nobleman in Wessex to manage the businesses of his home farms and estates personally and to be as much a merchant or tradesman as an aristocrat. Such direct involvement was what had made Wessex one of the wealthiest kingdoms in the New Heptarchy.

In short, Cedric had a thriving enterprise with a great many parts that required intensive cultivation and management. He did not have time for his father’s cruel dictate that he marry or be cursed.

It was a relief to reach The Royal Oak without being soaked to the bone. As soon as he was safe inside the pub’s tidy warmth, one of the attentive servants rushed forward to take his great coat and hat and to help him shake the rain off.

“Lord Grouse is waiting for you upstairs in the Gentleman’s Room, my lord,” the young man, Oswald, said.

“Has he been here long?” Cedric asked. He hadn’t expected his friend and business rival, Arnold Grouse, to be at The Royal Oak that morning, but knowing he was there lightened Cedric’s mood considerably.

“Not terribly long, my lord,” Oswald said, taking his great coat aside. “He has yet to order his lunch. Should I send something up for both of you?”

“Yes, please, Oswald,” Cedric said, managing a smile and a nod for the man.

Service was one of the key charms of The Royal Oak. London had its White’s, Brooks’s, and Boodle’s, but as far as Cedric was concerned, none of them could hold a candle to The Royal Oak.

The Gentleman’s Room was exactly what it purported to be. While the ground floor of The Royal Oak was very much still a pub, albeit one with a lofty clientele, The Gentleman’s Room was a spacious, comfortably decorated room on the first floor that was reserved for gentlemen of title and means.

The room was divided by groupings of sofas and chairs into numerous areas where the patrons of the establishment could either include or ignore each other as they saw fit. There were numerous bookshelves around the room, a new-style piano at the far end, and two great fireplaces that heated the room.

Cedric felt as much at home in The Gentleman’s Room as he did at home. Even more so when his friends, such as Arnold, were present.

“Arnold,” he called out as he approached the half-circle of large chairs in the far corner of the room, beside the piano, that Arnold favored when he was in town.

Arnold glanced up with a smile at the sound of Cedric’s voice, then bounded out of his chair and strode to meet him.

“Cedric! You’re here at last,” he said, shaking Cedric’s hand, then resting a hand on his back as he led him over to their usual spot. “I’ve just had the most exciting news, and I’m desperate to share it with you.”

Cedric couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s enthusiasm for all things. Arnold was a full decade younger than him, but the two of them were in a similar position as aristocratic proprietors of cheese-making and exporting businesses. They were also intense rivals, as Arnold’s estate and operation was located in the highly sought-after area of Cheddar.

“I’ve news to share with you as well, but it isn’t as exciting,” Cedric said with a sigh, sinking into his favorite chair, which always caught the afternoon sun.

There was no sun streaming in just then, however. Arnold was sunshine enough as he perched on the edge of his chair and leaned closer to Cedric.

“I have it on good authority that Richard Goodall of Goodall, Osment, and Bitters will be in attendance at the Cheese Festival this summer, and that he is in search of exporting partners to expand his business in the Americas,” Arnold said, looking so excited Cedric was worried he might accidentally burst a blood vessel.

The news was exciting. So much that Cedric sat straighter. “Goodall, Osment, and Bitters are looking for new trading partners?” he asked.

“Reportedly, yes!” Arnold said. “Now that the war with France is over, whispers are that they will return to investing in trade instead of supplying Wellington’s Army. They are especially interested in forming partnerships with cheese-makers so that they might nip French trade in the bud, particularly where the former colonies are concerned.”

“Did Goodall say anything specific about wishing to go into business with either you or me?” Cedric asked.

“Not yet, but I’m certain that between the two of us, something is likely to catch his eye.” Arnold sat back in his chair, as if he’d won a hand at the whist table and wished to bask in his victory.

Excitement pulsed through Cedric for all of three seconds before disappointment and regret rushed in to take its place.

“I cannot do anything about it,” he said, sitting back with a scowl. “I will not have the time or attention to do what is necessary to court a notoriously fickle exporter and to convince him to go into business with me.”

“What?” Arnold gasped, his eyes going wide with outrage. “Good heavens, Cedric. I know you and I are rivals as much as we are friends, but I’ve no wish for you to simply roll over and give up before the game has even started.”

“It’s not that,” Cedric said, huffing a sigh. “I have to marry.”

Arnold blinked rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”

Cedric pursed his lips, as annoyed as his friend was baffled. “Father has issued an edict that all of his sons and nephews must marry before he dies, which he seems to think will happen soon.”

“My God, Cedric. I’m so sorry. Is he ill?” Arnold asked.

“No,” Cedric said, feeling even more put upon because of it. He winced, then went on with, “He is old, however. There’s no telling what tomorrow may bring.”

“So because your father is old, he’s ordering you and your brothers and cousins to marry?” Arnold asked, then shook his head. “I would ignore the demand, if I were you. Women are nothing but trouble.”

Cedric arched one eyebrow. Arnold had always thought women were trouble, but mostly because, as far as Cedric knew, he’d always preferred the company of men.

“Father has made it so that the demand cannot be ignored,” Cedric said. “He’s said that whoever is the last of us to marry will be named in his will as the heir to Godwin Castle.”

Just saying as much made Cedric shiver with dread.

“No!” Arnold said, his eyes going wide. “He wouldn’t.”

“He has,” Cedric said flatly.

“But the castle is cursed,” Arnold said. “Everyone knows that whichever member of the Godwin family legally owns the castle and whomever stays there for more than a fleeting visit has great calamities befall them.”

“I am well aware,” Cedric said, his voice drier still.

Arnold swallowed and clutched his chest. “This could ruin your chances of making a successful trade deal with Goodall,” he said. “Were you not telling me just this Christmas that the situation at Templecombe Abbey is such that if you do not increase the estate’s income, you’ll be forced to consider selling parts of it?”

“I was,” Cedric confirmed with a nod. “I need to find a profitable market for our cheese or we may lose the whole thing.” And if that happened, he was sorely afraid that Leo would be disappointed in him.

He could not have that.

“This is a tragedy,” Arnold said, shaking his head. “This is a travesty of justice. This is misfortune on a bitter scale.”

Cedric was grateful that Ivy, one of the maids that served at the pub, arrived carrying a tray with their luncheon just then, because as dire as the situation was, Arnold’s effusive emotions never failed to make him laugh, even when his friend was trying to be serious.

“This is horrific,” Arnold went on, reaching for one of the mugs of ale that Ivy had brought. “This is – ” He stopped with the mug halfway to his lips, then blinked, then smiled. “Oh. This is a problem that is actually quite simple to resolve.”

Cedric had scooted forward to examine the stew that Ivy had brought and paused. “Is it?” he asked, then added, “Thank you, Ivy,” with a nod and smile as the maid curtsied and left them to their meal.

“Yes, it is, actually,” Arnold said. He took a long drink, then set his mug down and picked up his bowl and a spoon. “You can marry Muriel.”

“Muriel?” Cedric asked. Several conflicted emotions assailed him simultaneously.

“Yes, my sister, Muriel,” Arnold said, as if Cedric had forgotten he even had a sister.

“I remember Muriel,” Cedric said, picking up his bowl with a considering frown. “Dark hair, blue eyes, quite pretty.”

“She’s three years younger than me, but still unmarried at six-and-thirty,” Arnold said.

Cedric took a bite of his stew and ruminated as he chewed. Six-and-thirty was a little long-in-the-tooth for a bride. Then again, a woman of six-and-thirty was likely to be more experienced in the world. She could still give him a child or two, for appearance’s sake, if nothing else. He did not feel as though he needed any heirs beyond Leo and Grace. And Muriel likely knew something about cheese-making, as Arnold’s sister.

“Muriel is devilishly intelligent,” Arnold went on, as if his thoughts were traveling down the same path as Cedric’s. “She graduated from Oxford University, you know.”

“Oxford?” Cedric’s eyes went wide. “I thought only Mercian ladies attended Oxford.”

“Oxford ladies are a menace to society.”

Cedric was already stunned by the revelation that Arnold’s sister had attended the prestigious university, so he was unprepared for the sudden arrival and sharp comment from his cousin, Prince Cuthbert.

“Oh. Hello, your highness,” Arnold greeted Cuthbert with a wary look.

“Grouse,” Cuthbert nodded. He shifted to narrow his eyes at Cedric. “Godwin.” He spoke Cedric’s family name as if it were the embodiment of the curse.

“Cuthbert,” Cedric greeted him with just as much of a chill in return. He stood, unwilling to allow his cousin to stare down his nose at him for a second more than he had to.

“I heard that my batty Uncle Gerald issued some sort of a directive that you lot should marry,” Cuthbert said, “but I never imagined you would be so desperate as to engage yourself to one of those unnatural Oxford Society ladies.”

Cedric clenched his jaw and formed his hands into fists, forcing himself to breathe before he said something to Cuthbert that he might regret. Cuthbert was heir to the throne of Wessex, which did not bode well for the kingdom at all. He was also Cedric’s cousin, as his dear, departed mama had been King Swithin III’s sister. From earliest memory, Cuthbert had been a thorn in Cedric’s side, and time and age had only made the enmity between them worse.

“What does it matter to you whom I marry?” he asked once he was certain he would be able to contain himself in an argument.

“Oh, it doesn’t,” Cuthbert said. “Not at all. You are precisely the sort of fool who would marry one of those Mercian bitches and not a good, obedient Wessex woman.”

Outrage flared within Cedric for all womankind. Arnold gasped at Cuthbert’s reckless language, and a pair of gentlemen sitting nearby who overheard gasped as well, though it was unlikely they would take their future king to task for his language.

“You are entitled to your opinions,” Cedric said, trying not to clench his teeth.

“I am entitled to a great many things,” Cuthbert said with an oily smile. “If I had my way, I would enact a law forbidding Wessex men from marrying Mercian women. Those Mercians are the reason the kingdoms of England have failed, thus far, to unite as one Britannia, as was proposed when we entered our alliance to defeat Napoleon.”

“I rather thought it was a matter of financial independence and political sovereignty that has prevented talks of unification from going forward,” Cedric said, trying to sound bored with the issue.

In fact, Cuthbert was correct. The major sticking point in negotiations for unification was Mercia’s stalwart insistence that the laws of Mercia where women and femininely inclined men were concerned be honored throughout Britannia. The legal and financial independence of women, as well as their freedom to attend universities and partake of professions, was central to the identity of Mercia. So was the ancient institution of adelphopoiesis – which had once been common throughout Europe but had fallen out of favor everywhere but in Mercia in the tenth century – that allowed two men or two women to be legally bound together and united in the eyes of the Church.

Every other kingdom, save East Anglia, was dead-set against the idea. In a place like Wessex, where women were raised to be wives and mothers, to tend their homes and know their places, such freedoms were anathema. And so the stalemate continued, preventing the New Heptarchy from becoming one nation of Britannia.

“Whether I marry or not and whom I choose to make my bride should be no concern of yours, Cuthbert,” Cedric said. “Nothing I do is any concern of yours.”

“Oh, but that is where you are wrong,” Cuthbert said, his smile growing more vicious. He went so far as to lean over the table where Cedric’s and Arnold’s luncheon sat and to help himself to a piece of buttered brown bread. “What you do and whether you succeed at it are every bit my concern.”

Cedric’s stomach sank. He had a bad feeling he knew what his cousin was referring to.

“You don’t mean trade deals, do you?” Arnold asked what Cedric was thinking.

Cuthbert turned a brittle, indulgent smile on Arnold, like he was a dirty urchin who had wandered in from the street. “Indeed, I do,” he said. He turned back to Cedric and continued. “You know that as Prince of Wessex, it is my duty to serve as overseer to all political, diplomatic, and trade deals involving kingdom resources, do you not?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Cedric warned him.

Cuthbert shrugged. “Rumor has it that Goodall, Osment, and Bitters will soon be in search of new trading partners, now that the war is over. It would be my duty to veto any potential deals they might make with men I find unsuitable.”

“That would be corruption of the highest order,” Cedric reminded him. “France has already deposed their royal family. Scotland recently did the same. East Anglia is considering moving to a parliamentary system, and the city-state of London has functioned as a democracy for over a hundred years. You wouldn’t want good Wessex men to get any ideas if they thought their ruling family was corrupt, now would you?”

Cuthbert lost his smile. That left nothing but enmity for Cedric in his eyes. “We shall see,” he said.

He bit into the piece of bread he’d swiped from Cedric’s plate, then dropped the rest of it into Cedric’s stew, splashing broth everywhere and ruining Cedric’s lunch. After the conversation he’d just had, Cedric wasn’t certain he had the stomach for lunch any longer.

As Cuthbert left the room, Cedric resumed his seat with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face.

“It’s a shame the curse isn’t on that side of your family instead of your father’s side,” Arnold said in an attempt to comfort him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing tragedy befall Prince Cuthbert.”

“The tragedy could befall my business and, unfortunately, yours by association if we aren’t careful,” Cedric said, thinking aloud. “But if I fail to marry, would that make the odds of Cuthbert ruining me greater or lesser?”

“Lesser, certainly,” Arnold said.

Cedric glanced across his ruined lunch at his friend in question.

Arnold shrugged. “If you marry my sister, then the Curse of Godwin Castle will not fall on your shoulders. It might enrage Cuthbert, but would he truly risk bringing censure on the royal family? Besides which, a marriage with Muriel would mean our two families, and our businesses, would be united in matrimonial bonds. We could do more together as partners than apart as rivals.”

Cedric’s brow went up. He hadn’t considered that. He might offend Cuthbert, but he’d gain a strong ally in business. And even if Cuthbert was upset, King Swithin would not necessarily see things the same way.

“I’ve decided,” he said at last, thumping the arms of his chair. “I’ll travel to London as soon as possible and I’ll marry your sister.”

“Excellent,” Arnold said. “Now, let’s call for more stew and ale so that we can toast to all of our future success and happiness.”

“Hear, hear,” Cedric said, waving to Ivy in the far corner of the room.

His mood was already improving. He never would have imagined finding a wife would be so simple.