Brand winced from the bellow.
His friend jumped to his feet, his eyes bulging. "How is this possible?"
"She has been my mistress for a while now."
Ramsay tsked. "I do not speak of the child—though we shall revisit that discourse. I speak of her. How is she Balfour's daughter? And how does the king advise your marrying her? If anything, I reckon he would be even more furious."
"He advises that my child may not be born a bastard."
A silence fell.
"He does not know, does he?" Ramsay said quietly.
Brand turned away to the empty hearth. "About what?"
"You know what I ask. Answer me, Your Highness."
"He does not," his voice hardened. "And if you speak of it, I shall deny it. As will Madelyn."
He would ensure she denied it.
Ramsay studied him. "You withheld the knowledge from him. Why?"
