My Lady De Burgh. Deborah Simmons

late. Drawing a deep breath, Robin knew a powerful surge of resolution, only to feel it flag as he came to a disappointing realization.

      Unfortunately, he didn’t know a thing about curses or how to remove them. The earl had raised his sons to be educated and enlightened, and they scoffed at witches, sorcery and the like. Although Robin had always been more inclined than the others toward the power of charms and talismans and relics, he had no idea where to find a totem to ward off weddings. As far as he knew, there was no patron saint of bachelors, unless one counted monks, and Robin had no desire to take a vow of chastity.

      Quickly, he dismissed the Church as a source of aid in this matter, for its views on marriage were well known. No, he needed someone who possessed expertise of a more mystical nature. Robin racked his brain, but the only people he suspected might be familiar with such things were the l’Estranges, Stephen’s new wife and her relatives. The hall had been buzzing with vague gossip about them ever since Robin had arrived. But somehow he didn’t think the bride would appreciate it if he accused her, however obliquely, of being part of a scourge upon the de Burghs.

      Robin frowned thoughtfully. Although he couldn’t approach Brighid, she did have aunts, and they were rumored to have a knowledge of healing and other unusual skills. Perhaps, if he didn’t seek to redress the wrongs of his older brothers, already lost to their wives, but sought strictly to prevent his own impending doom, Robin could coax them into helping him.

      Taking a fortifying drink, he rose to his feet, immediately regretting his abrupt movement as he became slightly light-headed. With a grimace, he set his empty cup down, unwilling to replace Stephen as the drunkard of the family. He had always been his own man, neither envious nor imitative of his brothers, and he was not about to start now. Drawing a bracing breath, he headed through the festive crowd in search of the Mistresses l’Estrange.

      They were not hard to find, for they wore very colorful costumes that stood out in the throng. The shorter, plump aunt even had some kind of little bells sewn on her sleeves, an obvious sign of eccentricity, if not otherworldly abilities. Robin grinned, feeling a renewing surge of his innate confidence. Surely, she could help him.

      “Mistress l’Estrange?” he asked, and was rewarded by a jingling as the small, white-haired woman turned to greet him, a welcoming smile upon her face.

      “My lord!”

      “Please call me Robin, Mistress,” he said, inclining his head graciously.

      “Of course! And I am Cafell. Have you met my sister Armes?” she said, gesturing toward a taller, more taciturn woman.

      Robin nodded again. “Mistress.” He had intended to begin with the less dour one. Although not possessed of Stephen’s reputation, he could play the charmer as well as any other de Burgh, and she looked more agreeable than her sister. But having gone this far, he didn’t want to wait. It seemed imperative, suddenly, that he take some action.

      He flashed them one of his best grins. “May I say what a pleasure it is to welcome you into our family.”

      “Why, thank you, my lord Robin,” Cafell said, preening happily.

      “Robin will do,” he said, inclining his head once more as he subtly tried to maneuver the older woman to the side. Unfortunately, her sister followed, so he was forced to address them both.

      “Indeed, I count your arrival as a stroke of good fortune for myself since I am in dire need of your special talents,” he said smoothly.

      Cafell’s brow furrowed. “You have an injury that requires healing?”

      Robin laughed. “No. My problem is a bit more unusual than that.” He lowered his voice. “A most delicate matter, really—”

      Armes cut him off with a sharp look. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the heritage of the l’Estranges, would it?” she asked.

      Robin drew up short. Perhaps there was some sort of protocol involved here that he knew nothing about. “Well, yes—”

      “Oh, good!” Cafell said, clapping her hands with glee, despite her sister’s admonishing look. Robin glanced from one to the other in question. Although Cafell appeared delighted by his request, Armes remained rather forbidding. He wondered just what abilities she had and whether he was going to end up with even more trouble. He was already fending off one curse; he did not care to have another laid upon him.

      “Tell us! What can we do for you?” Cafell said, interrupting his gloomy thoughts.

      “Sister, I hardly think—” Armes began.

      Cafell waved her arm in an airy gesture that produced little jingling sounds. “Oh, Brighid can hardly complain when she—”

      “But he is a de Burgh!” Armes protested, while Robin swung his gaze from one sister to the other, trying to follow the conversation.

      “All the better!” Cafell said, rubbing her hands together in a manner that began to alarm Robin. He started to reconsider his plan and stepped back a pace, only to feel the little woman’s touch upon his arm. “Don’t go, Lord Robin!” she admonished before turning to her sister.

      “Armes, we must at least hear him out, for the sake of common courtesy, if nothing else. We are related now, after all,” she added, which didn’t hearten Robin one bit. She turned back to him brightly. “Come, now, tell us what troubles you.”

      “Well,” Robin began. He eyed Armes warily, but she finally gave him a stiff nod, which he interpreted as a gesture to proceed.

      “Go on, dear,” Cafell urged.

      “Well, I was thinking about all these weddings,” Robin said. Warming to his subject, he drew a deep breath and plunged onward. “I find them all odd, following so closely on one another, when just a few years ago, we de Burghs were all bachelors.”

      Armes frowned. “What’s so odd about it? Seven healthy young men of marriageable age are bound to seek out spouses, especially lords from such an important family.”

      “To carry on the dynasty!” Cafell noted, gleefully.

      “Perhaps,” Robin admitted, though privately he didn’t accept that explanation. His brothers had never seemed intent upon reproducing until after they were wed. And why all of them at once? Dunstan had married late, but the others were doing so younger and younger. “Could it be that someone has put some kind of, ah, spell on us all?”

      “Probably your own sire,” Armes muttered, and Robin blinked, wondering if he had heard her aright.

      “Oh, he’s jesting, aren’t you, Robin?” Cafell said, playfully striking his chest. “Your brother warned us that you were a trickster.”

      Robin felt his hopes ebb. Perhaps he was known for a few pranks here and there, but he was deadly serious, and he didn’t know how to impress his urgency upon the eccentric l’Estranges.

      “I think he means it,” Armes said, and they both studied him with renewed interest.

      “Why, Sister, I do believe you’re right! But, why would you want to—”

      “He’s worried about himself,” Armes said in a rather disgusted tone that made Robin straighten, though he could hardly take offense at what was the truth.

      “Oh, you poor boy!” Cafell exclaimed, patting his arm, which produced more little bell sounds. He glanced around, uncomfortably, but she only leaned closer, as if to impart some secret. “I wish we could look into your future, to reassure you, but Brighid frowns upon those things, you see. Although I admit she is growing more open-minded of late.” Cafell looked a question at her sister, who firmly shook her head.

      “I do not think she would appreciate that sort of interference with her new family,” Armes said.

      Robin felt his shoulders droop in disappointment. He didn’t want a bit of soothsaying; he needed a curse lifted. And even if these two were willing to help, it didn’t appear they had the necessary skills. Abruptly,