An Ill-Made Match (Vawdrey Brothers Book 3)

by Alice Coldbreath

  Lenora listened with her chin resting on her palm. “You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense to me,” she admitted. “But I’ve no brains to speak of.”

  “I also told him he should not kiss me so much,” said Eden awkwardly, and turned bright red.

  Lenora’s eyebrows rose. “I hate it when they try to do that,” she admitted, and Eden remembered what their grandmother had said about Lenora’s dislike of ardent suitors.

  “I don’t,” she confided. “At least, not when it’s Roland. I just said that because… I don’t know. I wanted him to reassure me that I wasn’t just a warm body to him. Does that make sense?”

  “A warm body?” Lenora repeated blankly.

  Eden lowered her voice. “I know that he likes the… intimacy of the marriage bed,” she said wishing she did not sound so prim. “But I don’t know if it makes any difference that it’s me …” she trailed off miserably. “I’m not expressing myself very well.”

  “Oh dear,” said Lenora. “Poor Roland.” Eden gave her a startled look. “Did you not read my letter?” Lenora chided her. “He’s been longing for you for months. The looks he was casting at you, even someone as disinclined for love as I, could read them quite plainly.” She looked at Eden in surprise. “You read all that poetry, cousin. Can you really not tell?”

  Eden puffed out a breath. “I’ve been thinking that poetry isn’t much like the real thing at all.” Sir Roland is sick for love of you. She cast a sidelong look at Lenora. “Do you really think he was lovesick for me?”

  “I still think he is,” said Lenora. “He won’t be cured until you love him back.”

  “Do you think Lord Vawdrey spoke the truth? When he said that Roland said he would wed none but me.”

  “I do,” said Lenora. “But it doesn’t really matter what I think.”

  Eden reached across and clasped her cousin’s hand. “Yes, it does,” she said.

  They sat for a moment in silence. Lenora squeezed her hand and they both looked up as the door opened and Jane ushered in two guests to the sitting room. Eden grabbed at Parnell’s collar, for he had bounded up at the intrusion.

  It was Lady Harriet Portstanley and Lady Winifred Hawes, two serious-minded members of court who moved in scholarly circles. They had come, they said, to invite Eden to the poetry reading in the small gallery which they were sure she would not want to miss. As Eden had been instrumental in setting up these same poetry readings, it felt strange to be receiving an invite. Still, she thanked them for their consideration, and though Lenora pulled a face and cried off, Jane kindly intimated she would be happy to accompany her. She had not explicitly been told that she could not leave the Queen’s apartments alone, but it had been heavily implied. The four of them went along to the small gallery and sat and listened to the gathering of patrons and poets who had assembled there. Eden enjoyed herself for the most part, and had a flattering amount of people tell her she had been sorely missed amongst their number. One of the less enjoyable factors, was a small number of people present who were not regular members at all, but seemed to be there simply there on the off-chance of catching sight of her. They took the opportunity to gawk at Eden and talk to one another throughout the poetry. In the old days, Eden would have had stern words with them, but now she felt less certain of herself. Sat clothed in one of Lenora’s bridal frivolous gowns, she felt most unlike her old self. A mere month ago, no-one would have dared point and whisper about her in her presence. Now it seemed like something she would simply have to get used to it, until the next scandal came along to replace hers. At one point, she did level a censorious gaze in their direction, but it just had the dubious effect of dissolving them into giggles. Eden pursed her lips and went back to ignoring them.

  Toward the end of the gathering, she fidgeted in her seat, wondering if it might be a good idea to simply slip away now before she was collared by anyone wishing to grill her. She touched Jane Cecil’s arm, and to Eden’s relief, Jane seemed to catch her meaning quick enough. They both rose to their feet and started edging quietly toward the door. In fact, Eden thought they had got away with it, when they managed to open and close the heavy door behind them, effecting their escape. She breathed a sigh of relief as the two of them started down the corridor, only to find her way barred by an irate gentleman, waving a parchment in her face.

  “Three weeks!” he yelled. “And nary a word! Secure a patron they said! All your troubles will be over, they said!”

  Eden flinched and stared at him. Dimly, she remembered him as one of poets from the group. She glanced back at the door to see if they had disbanded already, but no-one else had emerged.

  “You don’t even remember me, do you?” he said accusingly.

  “Mr – er- Lewen?“ ventured Eden, as things clicked into place. So he was the one that had written her the angry letter. Jane had drawn tactfully to one side of the corridor and was trying to look like she was nothing to do with them.

  “I’m vastly flattered,” he remarked sarcastically.

  “Of course I remember,” said Eden smoothly. “You secured the patronage of the Duchess of Rand, I think? A couple of months ago, at one of our meetings.”

  “Oh yes!” said Mr Lewen with a short, sardonic laugh. “Her!”

  Eden paused. “I’m afraid I don’t quite follow you-”

  “Took my life’s work she did!” he huffed, tears springing to his eyes. “Said she would be in touch with me forthwith, and then what do I find?” he swung wide an arm and covered his eyes tragically. “She’s carried it off to her middle son’s seat in the country with her! Without even sending me word!”

  Eden hesitated. “Is it your only copy she has taken?” she asked, not without sympathy. He was certainly very distressed. “I am sure I can find the direction of her son’s estate and write to her there-”

  “It’s one hundred and fifty pages madam!” he screeched, pulling at his lank hair. “How many copies do you think I have?”

  Eden drew herself up, adopting her firmest, most no-nonsense manner. Clearly expressing any sympathy for Mr Lewen in his current frame of mind was a mis-step. “As I said,” she said briskly. “I will certainly speak to the Duchess, and-”

  Mr Lewen wheeled around, blocking Eden’s path with his body. He flung his skinny arms wide, preventing her from brushing past him. “That’s what you say!” he said wildly. “But when? When?” The last word was practically screamed in her face. Eden pursed her lips together. He was going to cause a scene at this rate. She glanced past him, but no-one else was yet in view. She was sure she did not have much time before the poetry gathering broke up and there would be plenty of spectators. “Please collect yourself, Mr Lewen,” she said coolly. “I realize this has being a trying time for you, but-”

  “Oh, do you? Do you really?” he gave high bitter laugh, and Eden heard an edge of hysteria with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “What would the likes of you know about my struggles?” he demanded shrilly, his voice shaking with emotion. “You couldn’t have the faintest notion, madam!” Eden braced herself as he stepped directly into her space, bringing his face close to hers. “You’re absolutely bloody-”. His words finished with a startled yelp and Eden felt a whoosh of air, and a blur before her eyes. When she blinked and refocused, Mr Lewen was pinned to the middle of the wall, his legs dangling beneath him. Eden turned her head and found Roland Vawdrey glaring down the length of his muscular arm at the poet whose tunic he held bunched in his fist.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked softly. Eden gasped, thinking for a moment he was addressing her. “Answer me!” his voice rang out sharply, and he slammed the unfortunate man back against the stone wall for emphasis. Eden stared as Mr Lewen’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “What’s that you say,” Roland barked, narrowing his eyes. “Let’s have it. The reason you think you can speak to my wife in that manner?” His voice had dropped again, but somehow the softly spoken words seemed even more ominous. Mr Lewen’
s terrified gaze darted to Eden in unspoken appeal.

  “You know this man?” Roland turned his head to look at her.

  Eden cleared her throat. “Mr Lewen is a poet of some renown,” she said.

  “Is that so?” His words were clipped and very hard.

  “Until today,” she forced herself to add. “He has always conducted himself in a courteous manner.”

  “Indeed?” Roland’s gaze was fixed on the cringing poet’s face. “And why was today any different?”

  When Mr Lewen remained dumbstruck, Eden cleared her throat. “Unfortunately, Mr Lewen has suffered a disappointment with his patroness, the Duchess of Rand.”

  “A disappointment he saw fit to vent on you,” said Roland in a cold voice, his steady gaze fixed on the man dangling from his fist. “Apologize,” he added harshly.

  “My apologies, good sir,” gabbled Lewen hastily.

  “To my wife, fool.”

  “I do implore you for forgiveness, Lady Eden,” begged Mr Lewen.

  “If I ever hear you’ve been disrespectful to my wife in such a manner again,” said Roland in a curiously expressionless voice. “You will not like what happens.”

  Mr Lewen gulped, then nodded his head jerkily. Roland released him, and he fell to the ground, clutching his throat and wheezing. “It won’t happen again, I assure you,” he gasped.

  “I should hope not indeed,” responded Eden gravely. She turned back to Roland who was stood watching her with a narrowed gaze. Was she imagining it, or was there a faint gleam of challenge in those eyes? “Thank you,” she said. For a moment, she thought he looked surprised, but then almost instantly, it was gone.

  Mr Lewen lurched off on shaky legs, and they both watched his retreat a moment.

  “I think that the meeting will be disbanding, any moment,“ said Eden with dread. Jane had come forward and was looking awkwardly between the two of them. “Jane,” she said. “I think it would be advisable for us to move from this place before everyone emerges.”

  “I agree,” said Jane hastily.

  “Would you object to my husband accompanying us down as far as the lower gallery?” Jane hesitated, looking torn. Clearly she had received some directive about keeping them apart. “Please,” appealed Eden. “We will stay in your view at all times.”

  Jane swallowed, two spots of pink color appearing in her pale face. “Very well,” she said and fell in step behind them.

  Eden placed her arm on Roland’s and faced forward, “You do not mind accompanying us?” she said, when he did not move at once. That seemed to spur him on and they started walking. She stole a sideways look at him, only to find he was doing the same thing to her.

  “H-how did it go today?” she asked with a faint air of desperation. “With the King?”

  He cleared his throat. “It was… interesting,” he said, though it sounded like he substituted that word for another.

  Eden regarded him anxiously. “Did you get to speak?”

  He shook his head. “Apparently, neither of us can, until tomorrow.”

  Eden noticed she was fretfully plucking at his sleeve and pulled herself up. “Sorry, were you on your way somewhere just now? Have I dragged you away from something important?”

  “Eden-”

  “Yes?” But Roland did not speak and unable to bear the silence, Eden decided on impulse to simply plunge ahead with what was on her mind. She took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about… everything you said, and the only conclusion that I can draw is that I am the absolute opposite of Sir Renlowe. In fact,” she carried on recklessly. “I’m a totally spineless coward. All I care about is appearing perfectly composed in front of others. You included. I can’t even imagine competing, week in and week out, in front of crowds of people, suffering humiliation after humiliation. And getting no encouragement, save from the likes of you, paying his ransom. You’re right. He must have incredible inner resilience and strength.” She steeled herself to brave a glance at Roland’s face. He looked rather stunned. She swallowed. “In future, I mean to take Sir Renlowe as my role model,” she said, her cheeks burning.

  This last part seemed to startle him into speech, “Eden…”

  Before he could continue, and she lost her nerve, she plunged on. “I’d been tormenting myself about that kiss I gave you for the past week. Because I felt like I made a fool of myself. You didn’t expect me to give you that sort of kiss, but I misunderstood you. It wasn’t appropriate…” She gripped at his arm, unable to think what to say next, her face aflame.

  “The kiss was perfect, Eden,” he interrupted her sharply.

  “…And so, I said all those stupid things, because…” she gasped, tilting her head upwards to discourage the wetness she could feel in her eyes. “Because I was too much of a coward to tell you how I really felt… which was sadly conflicted and… a little depressed in spirits after being left alone for so many days…”

  Roland gave an exclamation and turned to look over his shoulder, as if checking Jane Cecil still followed them a few paces behind. By the muffled, but exasperated sound he made, Eden knew she was.

  “I’m well aware that I acted like the w-worst sort of harpy after you thoughtfully brought me all those gifts back from Areley Kings,” Eden continued wretchedly. “But I-”

  “Eden,” he said quietly, yet firmly interrupting her. “You are too hard on yourself. I had no idea…” He reached for her hand and applied pressure to her fingers. “This is not your fault. It’s mine.”

  “So you… you will kiss me again, then?” she asked anxiously.

  “Eden…” he said with a sharp inward breath. “You little wretch, what are you trying to do to me?”

  She feared she had totally lost track of the conversation now. “But you said ‘rest assured it won’t happen again’, and I surmised from that...”

  “I was fuming,” he said in a low, tense voice. “At the idea you did not welcome my kisses.”

  “Oh,” she said softly.

  “I had no intention of ever stopping kissing you,” he continued hoarsely. “That was just my hurt pride talking.”

  Eden leant further toward him. He adjusted his hold to squeeze her hand. “It was my hurt pride made me say those things too,” she admitted with a small choked laugh. Sir Renlowe, she thought. Sir Renlowe, Sir Renlowe, Sir Renlowe. Then she spoke. “I wish you could kiss me now.”

  He made a strangled sound in his throat. “Can you slip away later?” he asked in a low voice. Eden’s eyes widened. “I’d come to you,” he carried on, “But I understand you’re sharing your bedchamber with another.”

  “With Jane,” she clarified. “But I don’t quite know how I’d manage to slip away. Unless…” she thought of Lenora and bit her lip.

  “Yes?”

  “Perhaps I could enlist Lenora’s help?” she whispered. “My grandmother has returned to Hallam Hall today, but my uncles will likely be in the Montmayne quarters.”

  “Come to me,” said Roland. “Mason and Linnet are staying with Oswald and Fenella tonight at their house in town.”

  “Did they not invite you?” asked Eden, feeling stung on his behalf.

  “I’m not good company right now. For anyone save yourself.” He spoke the words with a faint trace of self-consciousness and heightened color in his cheeks which made him look very boyish.

  Eden told herself firmly that she was not enchanted by this bashful side of Roland. “If I don’t manage to get away,” she said in a low voice, glancing over her shoulder for they had reached the Queen’s quarters. “What will we do, if they try to say our marriage is unlawful?”

  “Fight it,” he said grimly. “With every weapon at our disposal.”

  Instead of feeling miserable, Eden felt a sudden reckless joy. She nodded, unable to think of appropriate words in response. The guards were standing to attention, and Eden waited reluctantly for Jane to catch up with them. As she withdrew her hand from his arm, he caught it and pressed it to his cheek a moment. Eden curl
ed her fingers to feel the faint stubble on his jaw. Then he dropped her hand and walked away. Eden watched him all the way to the end of the corridor before she turned and entered the Queen’s rooms.

  **

  In the end Eden simply sent a message to Lenora via one of the Queen’s pages.

  Dear Cousin, would it be possible for you to invite me to dine with you tonight in your chambers? It would be lovely to catch up with your news, and I would consider it a particular favor if you would invite our mutual acquaintance Lady G, who I quite long to see.

  The page sped off carrying her note, and though she had initially been pleased as punch by her ingenuity, Eden had no sooner sent it, then she started doubting that Lenora would catch her meaning. Lady G referred to Lenora’s cat, Griselda, and Eden’s intention was that Lenora would see the supper request for the mere nonsense it was, and realize she was instead asking for her help in some subterfuge. However, so fond was Lenora of her cats, that Eden feared she might not find anything amiss with her letter! Even though the whimsical tone was most unlike Eden’s usual manner. She paced about, wringing her hands and fretting that she would not manage her escape from the Queen’s confinement that evening. The Queen arrived back from her ride and changed into a charming outfit of peacock blue. Eden tidied her hair and changed into her rose pink gown. When she emerged, the Queen was reading a note which she passed to Eden.

  “Your cousin invites you for supper,” she said. “It might be a good idea for the two of you to clear the air, though I had hoped you might sing for me after supper. I have Viscount Bardulph dining with me this evening.” Eden noticed a fleeting look of dislike cross Jane’s face, before she suppressed it. Interesting, thought Eden. Jane does not like the charming viscount! “Never mind,” sighed the Queen. “Jane dear, you must read for us instead after supper.”

  “Viscount Bardulph does not care for my reading voice,” pointed out Jane without any expression. “He said I have a nasal inflection, if you recall your majesty.”