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insisted on a brazier of hot coals to warm her room.
    At Druoda’s feet knelt Hildegard, preparing her mistress’s nails for painting, another of many practices Druoda had learned from the carefree women of the south. It was not so very long ago that both women had been strangers to luxury. Only recently they had catered to travelers, working day and night laundering other people’s travel-stained garments and cooking. This deplorable labor had been necessary, for Druoda’s father had left her nothing. Her husband, Walafrid, possessed a large house, but had no money to maintain it. So they had turned the house into a hostelry, hiring Hildegard to help.
    Thanks to the death of Druoda’s nephew, Quintin, their days of hard work were over. It had been a calculated risk, assuming guardianship of Brigitte de Louroux and keeping the news of the Baron’s death from his liege lord. Druoda gloated over having rid herself of the only person who might tell Count Arnulf of the Baron’s death. Hugh had returned to the south coast on Druoda’s orders to verify Quintin’s death. Druoda did not really need the verification, but she needed time, and waiting for Hugh and Quintin’s vassals to return with Quintin’s possessions was giving her the time she needed to marry Brigitte without Count Arnulf’s interference.
    If there was a betrothal before the Count knew of Quintin’s death, then there would be no need to appoint the girl a guardian, for she would have a husband. It only remained to keep the lady from crying to the Count, and that could be arranged by simply keeping them apart. Once the wedding took place, the Count would not step in and try to run things. No, he would leave the estate to Brigitte’s lawful husband, who would be controlled by Druoda.
    The husband, ah, that had been the most difficult part! Finding a man who wanted Lady Brigitte enough to agree to Druoda’s demands had been Druoda’s greatest challenge. She had a long list of possibilities, a list obtained from the servants, for Brigitte had been asked for many times over the years. Druoda believed she had finally found the right man in Wilhelm, lord of Arsnay. He had come to ask for the lady two times in recent years, but Thomas and Quintin had refused his request, for they would never have considered giving their precious Brigitte to a man older than her father, and a man with Wilhelm’s unsavory reputation.
    Lord Wilhelm was perfect for Druoda’s plans. A man who seldom left Arsnay, who would not come often to Louroux to inspect his wife’s estate, a man who wanted a beautiful young virgin so much hewas willing to give Walafrid free reign at Louroux was just the thing. The old fool thought only a virgin bride could give him the son he so desperately wanted. It was not Brigitte herself he wanted, though he was delighted with her beauty. It was her innocence he demanded. And what other young woman would have such an old husband? Lord Wilhelm was also Count Arnulf’s vassal, so the Count would not question Druoda’s choice.
    Druoda lay back and sighed with satisfaction. Wilhelm was the answer to Druoda’s plans, and she was extremely pleased with herself, for only last night she had concluded the arrangements with him. Wilhelm was so smitten that he would no doubt pamper Brigitte. And after a year or so, Brigitte would have a most unfortunate accident, for it would not do for her to outlive Wilhelm and be in a position to threaten all Druoda had worked for. Druoda had gotten rid of Mavis with perfect ease, and she would get rid of Brigitte. Brigitte would die, Wilhelm would be Lord of Louroux and Walafrid still seneschal, and Druoda would always rule Louroux.
    â€œWhen will you tell her, Druoda?”
    Hildegard’s question brought a smile to Druoda’s round, pasty face. “This evening, after Brigitte is weary from working the whole day long.”
    â€œWhy are you so