It seemed to work. Genith’s shoulders squared. Her grip relaxed. “My sister is here, so I am content that my family witnesses this. I would prefer the chapel to this hall filled with drink and ill-mannered boys, however. Such an occasion deserves more dignity, and the presence of God, to my mind.”

Nesta almost swatted her sister’s shoulder. They needed Marcus moved by a shy girl’s fears, not challenged by a proud one’s demands.

Marcus’s gaze sharpened. “We will do it as you prefer, Genith.”

The priest led the way out to a chorus of objections from people who didn’t want to miss the spectacle. Into the yard they filed, and on to the chapel, with a few knights following to bear witness. They entered the ancient structure built in the Norman style with a high stone ceiling and thick walls that kept it cold and dark.

The priest lit some candles and then beckoned Genith to stand beside Marcus. The lord’s closest retainers gathered around. With heavy solemnity, the priest began rambling a benediction.

“I am not willing.” Genith spoke so lowly that Nesta doubted that anyone had heard but herself. Even she would have missed it if she had not been straining her ears.

Nay, one other heard. Marcus’s head snapped around.

The prayer droned on.

“I am not willing.” Clearer this time, like a melodic response to the priest’s Latin.

The priest glanced at her, but continued. The barest stirring flexed through the knights.

“I am not willing.” A shout this time. A desperate yell. “I am not willing.”

The last words bounced off the stones. Genith backed away from Marcus, and shouted her denial again.

The priest halted his benediction, and stared aghast at Genith. The knights exchanged stunned looks. As the last of Genith’s shouts died away into a brittle silence, Nesta grabbed her sister and pushed her toward the doorway before anyone could gather their wits.

One person in the chapel did not appear astonished. The lord of the manor silently watched their retreat. Nesta could not ignore that the dark anger in his eyes was not aimed at Genith.

“I am not sure what to do, my lord. One hears of such things, of course, but in my experience I have never been faced with it.”

Father Robert wrung his hands with distress. He was a portly young man, recently ordained, and Marcus did not doubt that he had no experience with such things, since he possessed little experience at all.

“Normally such a problem is dealt with earlier, and the woman listens to reason. But this … so public …”

Not so public, Marcus thought. Not in front of the whole household. He had at least been spared that, although soon everyone would hear of it. Still, he should probably thank Nesta. Maybe he would, after he finished warming her rump with his indignation.

“What would you require to go forward?” he asked.