Hodge glared up at the fleeing bird as he came to a stop in front of her, that shiny chin of his partially blinding her in the process.

‘You know that thing is not permitted out of its cage.’

He refused to acknowledge her gender or name. It was always ‘that thing’.

‘We have the chickens to consider,’ he added.

Margery had never even killed a chicken. She was nothing but a help around the place, keeping rats and mice at bay. Isabel suspected the real reason he insisted the eagle remain locked up was because she took time and attention away from him.

‘Occasionally she needs to spread those large wings of hers and remember how to fly,’ Isabel said. Then, noting his growing agitation, she added, ‘Well, I best go and lock that cage. I may even add an additional lock, just to be extra sure she is secure.’

Hodge caught her arm when she went to step past him. ‘Before you go, I would like to speak to you about the wedding.’

The dreaded wedding. His father was barely cold in the ground, and here he was charging ahead with his plans. She had hoped she had more time. ‘Which wedding would that be?’

His face hardened. ‘Our wedding, of course. What other wedding would I be talking about?’

‘I did hear rumours that one of the kitchen maids is soon to be wed.’

His brow creased with disapproval. ‘It is safe to say that I did not come all the way out here to talk to you about the kitchen maid’s impending nuptials.’ He released her, running a hand through the coarse sandy hair that reached all the way to his jawline. ‘Now, I have spoken to your mother, and we both agreed that the sooner the wedding takes place the better. It is the best way to ensure your family’s place here at Hampstead Keep is secure.’ He reached out to touch her arm. ‘And we have waited so long for this day.’

She forced the muscles in her face to remain still. He had been waiting. She had been dreading. ‘I assumed my family’s place here at Hampstead was already secure.’

He gave her what was likely meant as a reassuring smile that bordered more on patronising. ‘Of course it is, my beloved. You will forever be secure at my side.’

There was always a catch—like the ‘forever’ part. ‘I thought we could discuss the wedding after a suitable mourning period.’

He studied her a moment. ‘What is there to discuss?’

‘The timing, for one.’

He drew her closer until her face was a few inches from his and her heels lifted off the ground. ‘Tell me you want this. Tell me you want to marry me, to be my wife until death.’

She could not help but do the math on that. If she lived until she was seventy, that would be fifty years. But since men generally died younger, she took that number down to forty. That seemed doable for the sake of her family. She opened her mouth to answer. ‘I…’ She willed the words stuck in her throat to move. ‘Yes, of course.’