Bronwyn blinked, dragging her gaze from the window to stare blankly at Zella for several moments before the question finally penetrated her abstraction. Frowning, she turned her attention to the needlework forgotten in her lap. “Not as bad as I had feared. Not as good as I had hoped,” she murmured finally. She couldn’t prevent a faint smile from curling her lips when she glanced at her companion again for she could see Zella was struggling mightily with curiosity. “He is allowing me six months of mourning, no more. In the meanwhile, he will appoint someone to oversee Raventhorne. ‘Tis not of tremendous strategic importance, but far too important to allow it only to remain in the hands of a widow … especially one as young as I.” Several emotions flickered across Zella’s face. “Mayhap the next husband will be better than the last.” Bronwyn’s belly clenched. Instead of commenting, however, she merely returned her attention to the needlework.
