Her voice dropped to a hiss. “Is it not true, Ysabella, that he left you cold in your nuptial bed all those years ago? Is it not true that he tired of you even in that fortnight? One might ask who had abandoned who.” I met her gaze steadily, refusing to rise to her bait and doubly glad Merlyn had confided the tale of his father to me. I spoke with a sweetness I did not feel. “But Ada, if he had no regard for me, then why did he leave Ravensmuir to my hand?” “Clearly, it was a mistake.” “Do you call Fitz a liar?” “Perhaps my lord Merlyn did not mean to die.” She turned back to the meat and said nothing more. I could fairly hear her thinking, - without doubt, she knew more than what she had already revealed. I rose, feigning interest in the kitchen’s contents. I touched this and that, sniffed the bread appreciatively, picked up one utensil after another.
