Page 25 of Wolfehound (De Wolfe Pack Generations #11)

“The Earl of Warenton is coming,” Fair Lydia was saying to a pair of female servants. “I do not know how many are in his party, but we must be prepared for many family members. Do you have things well in hand?”

The servants nodded vigorously.

“Good,” Fair Lydia said. “Then go about your business. And ensure, one last time, that the knights’ quarters are ready for the unmarried male visitors. Go along, now.”

The servants scattered. Final preparations were underway for the wedding they’d all been waiting for.

It wasn’t to be a big affair, but the announcements went out several weeks ago, right after Carlton had finally given his approval for the wedding after a rather sternly worded missive from War Herringthorpe about the excessive delays.

It was with sadness, yet some joy, that Carlton gave the approval for the announcement to be sent out to two families, and two only—his brother’s and the Earl of Warenton’s.

It promised to be a small and intimate event.

The reason for inviting Warenton was obvious.

It was his father who had orchestrated the entire marriage.

But with Warenton would more than likely come several members of his household, and there were lodging logistics to be considered.

The keep of Folkingham had ten rooms in total—three were taken up by the family, which left seven to be occupied by the groom and his parents, and the Earl of Warenton and his wife.

They would sort it out at the time, but Carlton was a nervous wreck about the event while Fair Lydia was oddly composed.

She had managed all of the arrangements herself, mostly, except for the games that Carlton had arranged to follow.

Games of strength and horsemanship for the male guests and family members were on the agenda, a true celebration for an event a long time in the making.

It was the moment they’d all been waiting for.

Especially the bride.

Fair Lydia made her way up to Cambria’s chamber, unsurprised when she found her daughter in her wedding dress.

It was a glorious confection of scarlet and gold, specifically to match the Herringthorpe standards.

Most brides wore blue or pink to symbolize things like purity and chastity, but not Cambria.

She’d had the seamstress build a dress of scarlet silk brocade with gold embroidery all around the bell sleeves and neckline, and at the very back, at the nape of her neck, was the head of a dog stitched in gold thread.

That symbolized Bran, the puppy she’d given Liam so long ago, something that linked them together. It meant everything to her.

She hoped it meant something to him, too.

“Elegant,” Fair Lydia sighed when she saw her daughter. “All I can think of when I look at you is how elegant you look. You are a queen, Dearest. An absolute queen.”

Cambria turned to look at her mother, which was no mean feat given the fact that her hair was carefully coiffed and the neckline of the dress had a stiffened collar. She smiled brightly.

“That is the reaction I hope to get from Liam,” she said, turning around to continue inspecting her reflection in the big bronze mirror. “I want him to take one look at me, fall to his knees, and worship the ground I walk upon.”

She wasn’t entirely serious, but she did want Liam to think she looked beautiful. And perhaps she was serious about the worship part. In any case, Fair Lydia smiled at her daughter.

“You have grown into a woman before my eyes,” she said softly.

“I still cannot believe it. I think I still see you as a child, looking up at me with those bright blue eyes and wanting to know all of the secrets of heaven. I always wished I could tell you everything, but alas, you have more wisdom than I do.”

Cambria was gazing at herself in the mirror, gently touching the gold net on her hair, which was elaborately braided. But as she stared at herself, thoughts other than weddings started to roll through her mind.

“Mama?” she said.

Fair Lydia lowered herself down onto a cushioned chair. “What is it, my love?”

Cambria didn’t say anything for a moment. She was still touching her hair, but it was clear there was something on her mind.

It wasn’t long in coming.

“Did Papa know my mother?”

That seemed like a strange subject to bring up. It was unexpected and Fair Lydia looked at her curiously. “Why do you ask?” she said.

“Because I wonder if I look like her,” Cambria said.

“I used to not think about it at all when I was younger, but now that I am going to be married and will have children of my own, I have been thinking more and more about the woman who gave birth to me, and I wonder if I look like her. Or if I look like my father.”

Fair Lydia gazed up at her daughter with an expression of adoration, the same expression she’d had the first time she ever held Cambria in her arms. “Your papa did not know your mother,” she said softly.

It was the truth. “Nor did he know your father. But in my mind, you look like your mother, who was surely the most beautiful woman.”

Cambria turned to her. “Why would you say that?”

“Because she gave birth to you, did she not?” Fair Lydia said. “Of course she must have been beautiful to have such an exquisite creature for a daughter, and I thank her every day for risking her life for you.”

Something flickered in Cambria’s eyes. “Do you know something about her, then?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“You just said she risked her life for me. How do you know that?”

Fair Lydia continued to look at her daughter, resplendent in scarlet, which was striking with her coloring.

It made her blue eyes bluer and her black hair blacker.

But as she looked at her, the impact of Cambria’s question hit home.

Did she know about Cambria’s mother? Of course she did.

In the days following her husband’s return from Wales those years ago, Carlton had told her everything about Cambria.

He only told her because he needed to stress to her how important it was that she never discuss, with anyone, who or what her daughter was.

As far as anyone knew, she was simply an orphan that he’d picked up at a church.

Carlton had stressed the fact that Cambria was of royal blood and, because of that, was supposed to end up in a priory.

Rendered inert, a life pledged to God. He furthermore told her that if King Edward were to ever discover the truth, he would come for Cambria.

Fear had kept Fair Lydia silent for all of these years.

But now, her daughter was asking questions.

However, that was a rarity. Cambria had seldom asked about her origins.

She didn’t seem to care. She was happy and healthy and she adored her parents, so the fact that she was a foundling didn’t seem to matter.

All Fair Lydia had told Cambria was that her birth parents had died in a war and Carlton had saved her from going to a foundling home.

That seemed to sate her curiosity for the most part, but the question that just arose was something that Fair Lydia had put down in the past. However, she knew at some point that Cambria would want to know more and the question could no longer be put off.

Everyone wanted to know where they came from.

Everyone wanted to know their roots.

But Cambria’s situation was different than most, and Fair Lydia had been more than willing to keep her past a secret when she was younger, but now she questioned Carlton’s edict of keeping the truth from their daughter as an adult.

Increasingly, Fair Lydia didn’t think that was the best course of action.

Her biggest fear was that Cambria would grow to resent her parents if she felt they knew more about her background than they were telling her, and if someone told her the truth before either parent did, that might cause a horrible rift.

Fair Lydia wasn’t so sure she wanted to risk it.

The truth was that Cambria was bright and educated.

She understood the politics of England and she understood how the world worked for the most part.

It was also true that she had led a protected life, which Carlton and Fair Lydia had intended, but that didn’t mean she was na?ve.

There were times when she would sit with her father in his solar and they would discuss history, ancient battles and ancient kings, because those were subjects that interested Cambria very much.

She enjoyed reading the Bible, but not for the religious aspects of it, rather the historical.

She was a woman who had grown up always wondering about people and what made them who they were.

She was friendly to everyone, from servants and soldiers to the nobility.

She loved talking to them about their lives and their families and even their experiences.

Carlton never let her travel outside of Folkingham, so she’d had to live vicariously through the visitors that came to her home once in a while.

She was a naturally curious young woman.

Now, Fair Lydia was once again facing a question about Cambria’s past. She had never really been able to lie to her daughter, and now Cambria was of age.

She wasn’t a silly, flighty female. She was a young woman of breeding and education and there was something about her that had always been mature.

“An old soul,” was how Fair Lydia’s mother had phrased it.

Cambria was now facing a marriage with a man she’d loved for as long as she could remember, and after the wedding she would return to the north and Fair Lydia would hardly see her again.

The idea that she would perhaps only see her daughter a few more times for the rest of her life was a horrible, empty feeling.

Perhaps in these last moments, it was time to answer Cambria’s question once and for all.

Did Papa know my mother?

A simple question that had an explosive answer.