Rosamund by Bertrice Small Read Free Book Online

go.”
    He smiled a slight smile again. “I wish I could stay with you, Rosamund. In another year or two you will flower into true womanhood. It will be glorious. I should like to be here for that, but I shall watch for you from the other side. Never doubt that while my body may lie rotting in the good earth of Friarsgate, my spirit will watch over you, my dear young wife and friend.”
    Rosamund put down the bowl. Unable to help herself, she began to weep. “What shall I do without you, Hugh?” she sobbed.
    Reaching out, he comforted her, patting her hand, saying, “You can trust Edmund, and I promise that you will have a far greater protector than I, my dearie. Now, my strength is quickly ebbing. Send Henry Bolton to me.”
    She half-stumbled to her feet, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I’ll sit with you after he is gone,” she promised him.
    “I should like that,” he agreed with a weak smile.
    She gave him a half-smile back and went from the room. In the hall her uncle was just finishing his meal, wiping his plate clean with a chunk of bread. Her cousin was shoveling the apple tart and cream into his mouth as fast as he might use his spoon. “Hugh will see you now, uncle. Try not to tire him, please.” Her voice trembled.
    Henry Bolton looked at his niece sharply. “Do you actually care for him?” he demanded of her. Then his eyes narrowed. “He has not tampered with you, has he?”
    She knew precisely what he meant, and she gave him a scornful look. “He is like my father, uncle. How vile your thoughts are, but I shall lose my virginity long ere you can try to wed me to your little brat.” And she laughed at his outraged gape of shock.
    “You need a good beating, girl,” he told her fiercely.
    “Raise a hand to me, if you dare, uncle, and I shall cut it off, I promise you,” Rosamund answered him calmly. “Now, go and speak with my husband while you still can.”
    Henry Bolton almost ran from the hall. He did not like the way his niece was behaving or the way in which she spoke to him. What had happened to the frightened and obedient little girl she had once been? He had not had Hugh Cabot wed her in order for Rosamund to turn into an independent and obviously literate female. All the man was supposed to have done was protect Henry Bolton’s interests in Friarsgate until his death, at which time Rosamund would have been married to his son. But Rosamund was suddenly outspoken and damned self-possessed.
    “I do not like it,” Henry muttered to himself. “I do not like it at all.” But then he considered if Hugh Cabot were indeed dying, Rosamund would shortly be back in his power. He would correct the problem she now presented him. Especially after Hugh signed the betrothal agreement between Rosamund and young Henry Bolton. He opened the door to the bedchamber and stepped over the threshold.
    “Good evening, Hugh,” he said, frankly shocked by what he saw. Hugh Cabot was certainly dying, by the looks of him. He was gaunt and pale, but his blue eyes were yet lively, indicating his strong spirit.
    “Come in, Henry Bolton, and sit by my side,” Hugh invited. “We have not seen you in some time. Your good wife is well?”
    “Aye,” Henry answered curtly. “Rosamund says I must not tire you so I will come directly to the point.”
    “Of course,” Hugh responded.
    “I had heard that you were dying, and I can see that it is so,” Henry began bluntly. “Legally you are my niece’s lord and master, by virtue of your marriage. It is therefore up to you to provide for your widow’s future before you depart this life.”
    “Aye, it is,” Hugh agreed.
    “I have brought the betrothal agreement for Rosamund’s next marriage, to my son Henry the younger. Rosamund will, of course, mourn you for a full year’s time, but the agreement must be in place so that the marriage can be celebrated when her bereavement is concluded.”
    “You are most solicitous of Rosamund, Henry,” came the amused