Tori Phillips Read Online Free

honor of my family is at stake.”
    The bridegroom’s name jangled a faint bell within Father Jocelyn’s memory. He had heard something about a branch of the Ormond family that was not altogether savory. “Walter Ormond? Would his father be Sir Roger Ormond?”
    For the first time that evening, she truly smiled. The effect nearly shattered Brother’s Giles’s fragile composure. “Oui, the very same!” She clapped her hands with delight. “Do you know him, good Father?”
    The prior wet his lips before answering. He had half a mind to tell her to flee back to France immediately, but he suspected she would face death before disgracing the family name. “The Ormonds live on the northern outskirts of civilization. I fear they are a rough and uncultured lot. Tell me, my child. How is it such a well-bred lady as yourself happened to become betrothed to the heir of such a far-flung estate?”
    Lady Celeste swallowed at his words, though her gaze never wavered. “My father came to know Sir Roger and his son eight years ago, when your King Henry met with our king, Francois, at a beautiful city of tents outside of Calais, which people now call the Field of Cloth of Gold.” Her violet eyes gleamed as she recalled that near-legendary event.
    “My father was a member of Francois’s court, and he entertained Sir Roger often during that fortnight. Oh, Father Jocelyn! I was there for a few days with my mother and sisters. It was truly the most magnificent sight!”
    The old prior nodded. He had heard of the sumptuous feasts, the splendid tournaments and the brilliance of the two glittering courts, each vain monarch trying to outshine the other. He could well imagine how such a magnificent sight would have impressed the imagination of a young girl. “How many sisters have you, ma petite?”
    “I have the honor of being the fifth and youngest daughter of Roland de Montcalm.” Her chin tilted up a notch.
    “Five daughters! And brothers?”
    “Only one survived. Philippe is the baby of the family.” She looked wistful as she spoke of her little brother. “We spoil him terribly.”
    “Are your sisters married?” Father Jocelyn wondered if they were as striking as the lady opposite him.
    “Oui, that is why my father allowed all of us to come to the Field of Cloth of Gold—to find good husbands. I am the last—and the only one who was betrothed to an Englishman.” She sighed softly, then flushed and glanced at the prior. “Pardon my manners, Father. It is not that I do not like the English, it’s just...” She groped for the right words.
    “It’s just that you would have rather stayed in France, near your family?” he suggested in a gentle voice.
    Lady Celeste rewarded him with a smile that lit up the small, Spartan guest room. Brother Giles hiccuped with suppressed pleasure.
    “You are very wise, Father, to know my mind.” She cocked her head to one side. “Perhaps you can tell me what I am to do now that my aunt is sore injured and my only wagon is broken. I am most needful of good counsel. I must go on. I cannot return to L’Étoile. It would disgrace my father’s name, and...and...” She bit her lip.
    “Yes, ma petite? ” Father Jocelyn resisted the urge to lay his hand on her bowed head.
    “It is my only offer of marriage, Father,” she confessed in a near whisper. “After settling dowries on my four older sisters, there was very little left for me. Sir Roger is kind enough to accept me when I bring his son so little to the marriage settlement.” She gave her slim shoulders a shake, then stared into the candle’s flame. “But I will bring him my honor, my virtue, and... and I will try to love him, as well.”
    “Then Walter Ormond will be a rich man indeed,” murmured the prior, though a wing tip of apprehension brushed against his soul.
     
    The morning air smelled fresh and clean when Guy emerged from the darkness of the chapel, where he had spent a cold, dank night lying facedown on the