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gaze moved to Andreas, standing behind Gavriella with two other big knights.

“I see,” she said after a moment. “Sir Andreas, thou art related to Lady Northumbria?”

Andreas nodded. “I am,” he said. “Her husband is my father’s brother.”

“Who is thy father?”

“Troy de Wolfe, Lord Braemoor,” he said. “He is the lord of Kale Water Castle. It is not far from here.”

Sister Fiona nodded. “I know of it,” she said. “And you are to marry this lady?”

“I am. I will be a good father to the lad, I swear it.”

Sister Fiona looked between Andreas and Gavriella for a moment before her focus finally settled on Andreas.

May… may I speak with thee a moment, my lord?” she asked. “Alone, please.”

It seemed like a strange request, but if it would get her child any faster, Gavriella was willing to do anything. Perhaps the old woman wanted to interrogate Andreas to make sure he would be a good father. Andreas walked past her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder as if to beg for her patience, as he followed the old nun into the next chamber.

As Gavriella twitched and paced in the entry hall, Andreas had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong. It was the way the woman had looked at Gavriella when she recognized her. The woman came to a halt and turned to him.

“My lord,” she said quietly. “I did not wish to tell the young lady in front of everyone, so as her betrothed, I will let thee tell her.”

Andreas’ stomach lurched. “Tell her what?”

The old woman wasn’t without sympathy. “Last month, several of the children contracted a fever,” she said softly. “The lady’s son was one of them. He was a sweet child, a healthy child, but the fever weakened him greatly. We lost four children to the illness, the lady’s son included.”

Andreas closed his eyes and lowered his head. “God,” he groaned. “He’s dead?”

“Aye.” Sister Fiona watched him struggle. “I am so very sorry. I remember thy lady when I came to take the child. She was utterly heartbroken over it, but I also remember her father. He was quite… firm, I am sorry to say. I do not know what the circumstances of the child’s birth were and I did not ask, but it seemed to me as if it was an… unfortunate birth.”

She meant illegitimate, but she was too tactful to say so. Andreas dragged a hand over his face.

“Unfortunate, indeed,” he said. “But I assure you, it was through no wrongdoing of her own. She was so happy to collect her son and now… it does not seem fair that tragedy seems to follow her wherever she goes.”

Sister Fiona nodded faintly. “Am I to understand you are not the father?”

“Nay.”

“But you would raise the child as your own.”

Andreas shrugged. “The child is part of her. That is all I see.”

A smile creased the old woman’s lips. It was a touching thing to say. “Sir Andreas,” she said softly. “Sometimes God moves in ways that we do not understand but always with a purpose. I do not profess to know what his purpose was for allowing a child’s death, but it must not be in vain. We must have faith.”

Andreas snorted. “Faith,” he muttered. “Is that what I am to tell her? That we must have faith in God because he has allowed another tragedy to befall her? What should I tell her that purpose is, Sister?”

Sister Fiona didn’t have an answer. “She is young to know such hardship.”

Andreas turned his head as if to see her through the wall that separated them. “She is young and compassionate and sweet, and she has never committed a sin in her life, yet bad things seem to find her,” he said. “I told her I would protect her, but I cannot protect her from this. I do not even know how. Already, I feel as if I have failed her.”

“She loves her son very much?”

“Very much. You said yourself how heartbroken she was when they were separated.”

Sister Fiona watched him struggle with his emotions, his faith, his everything, and an idea occurred to her. A mother without a child… and so many children in her care without mothers.

Perhaps she could fix what Andreas could not.

“Go to her,” she said. “But do not tell her what I have told you. Not yet.”

He looked at her, torn between grief and curiosity. “Why?”

Sister Fiona was already heading out of the chamber. “Please,” she said. “Have faith, Sir Andreas. I will only be a moment.”

By that time, she was into the entry, heading for the stairs. Andreas came out after her, watching the woman with confusion as she disappeared up the steps. But Gavriella rushed to him, distracting him.

“Where is she going?” she asked.

Andreas had no idea what to tell her. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “She told me to wait a moment before…”

Gavriella’s features lit up. “She is going to retrieve him!”

Andreas looked at her and he could see the unrestrained joy. Utter, complete joy. She dashed away from him, running to the base of the stairs and looking up the stairwell eagerly. As he stood there, Will came up beside him.

“What’s wrong?” he hissed.

Andreas’ gaze was fixed on Gavriella as she literally trembled with joy. “The worst thing you can possibly imagine,” he whispered. “The baby is dead.”

He heard Will grunt, as if in pain. “God,” he muttered. “Then where did the nun go? Not to get the body, I hope.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to Andreas. “Christ,” he hissed. “If she does, I’ll kill her where she stands and answer for it later.”

There was rage in that statement. Will backed off, feeling a great deal of pity for his cousin and Gavriella. In silent support, he remained by Andreas’ side, both of them watching the stairwell until Gavriella final shrieked because she saw something moving up in the stairwell. As they watched, Gavriella burst into quiet tears as Sister Fiona came down the stairs with an infant in

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