The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2)

by Alice Coldbreath

  He opened his mouth, then seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say. “Why was Emworth there?” he persisted.

  “It turns out my cousin is Sir Lionel’s squire,” she said after only the tiniest hesitation, as if that explained everything. She hoped devoutly he had not seen Kit attacking the knight he was supposed to be serving. That could take some explaining.

  Garman came to an abrupt halt. Lenora did likewise. She looked up and found his gaze trained on her. “Did you uncover your face for him or your cousin?” he ground out.

  Lenora gasped. “Neither! That is to say, I was forced to uncover it in order to make myself heard above the clamor.” She took a few calming breaths. “My cousin had the oddest notions about my fate. By all accounts, my uncle is under the impression the pox left me devoid every facial feature. Mind you,” she reflected sagely. “My father and he are not close, so likely he has not been kept fully appraised of my recovery.”

  “Well, according to your father, you never will recover,” he pointed out brutally.

  Lenora blinked. “True,” she murmured. “For my looks will never be restored to what they once were.”

  “Emworth did not seem to mind overmuch!” Garman scowled.

  “No,” Lenora agreed absently. “He didn’t really, did he? Which is funny because I always thought…” Belatedly she noticed the angry gleam in Garman’s eye. “Likely he was distracted by everything going on around us and barely had the chance to notice,” she finished lamely.

  “Is that so?” His tone was singularly unpleasant. He started forward again, catching her wrist in his hand, practically dragging her in his wake.

  Lenora bit her lip. “By any chance, did you—?”

  “Did I what?” he snapped.

  “Lose your event today?” she asked loudly. “You seem to be in a most ill humor!”

  “Maybe that’s because I just happened upon my wife entertaining a former suitor! My wife,” he reiterated coldly. “Who assured me she did not intend to uncover her face during this tournament!”

  “I was not entertaining Sir Lionel,” Lenora objected hotly. “And you did not happen upon us as though it were some sort of… clandestine meeting! My cousin was there also and by the time you arrived, some dozen other people were milling around!”

  Garman flung back the entrance to the pavilion and ducked inside. Pausing a moment to roll her eyes in exasperation, Lenora followed him. Inside, he started stripping off various pieces of armor and flinging them down in a pile. Lenora hovered uncertainly. She had never been good at placating people and quite frankly, she was not sure she even wanted to appease Garman who had been most rude and offhand with her only a few hours ago. Why she should have to soothe his frayed temper, she had no notion! She watched him a moment until he threw himself into a chair and sat there glowering at her.

  “I did not mean to incur your displeasure by this,” she said at last. “I just wanted to see a friendly face. After all, you made it plain to me that you had no desire for my company this day.”

  “Excuse me, my lady, good sir knight!” sang out a voice making them both jump. Servants had arrived with more washing water. Lenora gestured toward the small table and stood out of the way as they bustled around, replacing the drying cloths and soap flakes with new ones.

  “We may as well go to the feast this evening,” Garman said heavily. “Now everyone knows you’re here.”

  Lenora opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. After all, he did have a point. And if she had not found it rather dull being confined to their pavilion then she would not have gone in search of company in the first place. She shot a sideways glance at him and found him watching her warily in return. “You could be right,” she conceded. “Sir Roland’s squire was there, so no doubt he will report back that I am here.”

  “If Vawdrey comes sniffing around, then I can soon send him away with a flea in his ear,” Garman responded coldly.

  “I’m sure he won’t,” Lenora soothed. “But doubtless he will want some response to the letter I received from Eden,” she reflected. “Maybe I should write it now, for I will not need to change again.” She looked down at her dress and then back at Garman, but he was already turning his back to her, stripping to the waist to wash. The servants withdrew. “I don’t suppose you have any writing materials?” she asked, suddenly realizing she had none with her. He shot a derisive look over his shoulder at her. “I’ll take that as a no.” She had just sat herself down in his vacated seat when they heard a voice ring out loudly outside.

  “Is the Lady Lenora within? I have a message for her.”

  Lenora started to her feet, but Garman interrupted her.

  “Who is it?” he roared.

  “Cuthbert Ames, squire to Sir Roland.”

  Garman swore under his breath and placed his razor down. “Come in.”

  Lenora sat back down again as Cuthbert Ames ducked into the tent.

  “Good day to you, Sir Garman,” he said with unruffled calm. Garman grunted and picked his razor back up, dragging it down his jaw. “My lady bade me come with a message,” Cuthbert said, turning to Lenora.

  “Eden is here?” Lenora cried. “I had no notion! She did not come to the summer palace.”

  Cuthbert grinned. “Aye. For the master permitted her to come to Kellingford where there is no risk of pox.”

  “I’m so glad!” said Lenora warmly and clasped her hands.

  “What’s the message?” Garman asked, half turning toward them and frowning.

  “She asked if Lady Lenora could come to her tent to take a private supper with her this evening.”

  “No,” Garman answered swiftly.

  “Oh, but I want to!” Lenora protested.

  “The Lady Lenora is attending tonight’s banquet in the main house,” Garman addressed Cuthbert ignoring her objection.

  “Oh, but that was a last-minute decision!” Lenora pointed out. “Could I not see my cousin? I’d much rather.”

  Garman’s jaw tightened. “I would have thought you’d have had your fill of cousins today.”

  Lenora paused a moment. “Not at all.”

  “I had no notion you were so fond of your family members.” His tone was cutting, no doubt alluding to the fact she had proposed marriage to him as an escape from family obligations.

  “Well, why should you?” she asked aloud. “I do not think we’ve ever discussed such matters.”

  He threw down his razor and turned around. “You’re accompanying me tonight,” he said shortly. “And there’s an end to it.”

  Lenora pressed her lips together as she bit back a stinging retort. Cuthbert, she noticed, was watching them both with open curiosity. “I’m afraid I cannot join her this evening, Cuthbert,” she said after a moment and was pleased at how calm her voice sounded. “Please convey my apologies to Eden and assure her that I will look to see her on the morrow. Perhaps I could join her in watching one of the events?”

  Cuthbert grinned. “My master competes tomorrow in the melee. My lady will not miss that.”

  “Excellent, then I hope I may join her.” She shot a look at Garman who had his arms folded across his bared chest and was watching her narrowly. “Perhaps you could collect me beforehand?”

  Cuthbert nodded obligingly. “Of course. Would ten suit you?”

  “Most admirably, I thank you.”

  Looking amused, Cuthbert sketched her a bow, nodded at Garman and backed out of the tent agile as a cat. She had not a doubt he had been fully aware of the tension between her and Garman and had been highly entertained.

  “If you’ve quite finished making a show of us,” Garman said harshly. “Perhaps I can finish dressing?”

  “I wish you would,” Lenora replied sweetly, sweeping her hair pins from the top of the trunk into her hand. She would need to tidy up her remaining veils if she was to accompany him this evening and being confronted by her husband’s half-naked body was distracting. She snatched up her hand mirror. One of the
consequences of giving Sir Lionel her face veil was that she would not achieve full coverage now. With a sigh, she set about making the best of it she could.

  *

  Kellingford Manor house was a large mishmash of a place that had been added to and built on until the original part of the house which had once been handsome and well proportioned, was now a sprawling, incoherent maze. Much like their home, the Kellingfords seemed a bewildering hodge-podge of a family that consisted of a rabble stepsiblings and various cousins who rotated around the central patriarch, old Sir Roger Kellingford without any direct line.

  Lenora had not had more than three introductions than she gave up trying to understand who exactly her hosts were. Instead she curtsied and smiled, even though her face was mostly hidden by her veils and was seated next to Garman at a large table with her back to the fireplace in an extremely draughty hall. Garman stretched out his legs before him and gave a startled exclamation when he found his hand licked by a hound lurking under their bench.

  Lenora laughed, as he wiped his fingers on his tunic with a grimace. “Would you rather he’d bit you?” she asked, reaching down to stroke the friendly dog. “I never did get to meet your grandfather’s dog. Kolby, wasn’t it?”

  “Aye Kolby,” he agreed. “He’s old, but he doesn’t drool like this one at least.”

  “I hope Fendrel is not missing you too much.”

  “Me?” He sounded startled.

  “Yes, you,” Lenora said absently, having caught sight of a profile she recognized in the dimly lit hall. “Oh!” Eden caught sight of her too and Lenora saw her eyes widen. Her cousin’s eyes were fixed on her in pained uncertainty. Then Lenora remembered she wore a veil. Curses. Hesitantly, she raised a hand in greeting. Eden, frowning, returned the gesture, then leaned into her husband Roland’s side to speak to him.

  “My cousin is here,” she pointed out lamely. Garman frowned and leaned forward as the servers placed bread and roasted meat before them and cups of foaming ale. “I wish they had been sat at the same table as us.” He made no comment and Lenora fidgeted with her veil, wondering if she should pin them discreetly aside to eat.

  “You are lately married, I think?” asked a strident voice opposite them, and Lenora looked up to find an older lady they had been introduced to earlier, regarding them eagerly. Her name and relationship to their host she could not recall, but she had the vague idea she was some sort of connection.

  “Indeed,” Lenora replied demurely when Garman gave no response. For politeness’ sake, she was forced to draw her veil to one side and secure it. After all, light in the hall was not exactly bright and beyond their table she doubted many could make out her features.

  The woman nodded sagely. “I can always tell,” she observed indulgently. Lenora glanced sideways at Garman, who merely looked bored. “Brides have always had a special place here at Kellingford,” the older woman declared. “Indeed, my stepbrother has brought at least four home in his time.” She laughed heartily at this, displaying her rather prominent teeth.

  Lenora smiled politely, though under the table she reached for Garman’s leg and clasped him above the knee in a death grip. If he imagined for one minute, he was leaving her to the tender mercies of this alarming woman, he was much mistaken!

  Garman’s hand closed over her own, anchoring it to him securely. “We have been wed almost a week now,” he said dismissively.

  “A week!” the woman crowed as if at some grand jest and shook slightly with laughter. “Newlyweds,” she pronounced, shaking her head. Turning her head, she loudly shouted, “Roger!”

  Lenora stiffened as she repeated her call to their host. “You’ll pronounce a toast,” she boomed. “To the bride and groom?”

  “Do not trouble yourself,” Garman said curtly, and Lenora winced again. He sounded the most reluctant and surly of grooms.

  “You must be the lady who was causing such a stir this morning with two knights fighting over her,” the woman said, looking diverted. “Everyone’s been talking of it.”

  Lenora felt a little short of breath. “It was just a misunderstanding, I assure you.”

  “Fight? What fight?” Garman’s tone was suddenly sharp.

  “There was no fight,” Lenora said outwardly calm, inwardly cursing the events that had brought her into the dining hall.

  “Oh-ho madam! Is that the tale you’ll give him? Then I shall back you up!” The matron gave her an exaggerated wink. “We females must stick together.”

  “There were no two knights,” Lenora persisted doggedly. “It was a misunderstanding only. My young cousin—”

  “Who fought?” Garman cut in angrily, his hand tightening on hers.

  “Why ‘twas that handsome young devil Sir Lionel,” the older woman said, forgetting her vow of only moments ago. “Only now your wife has sent him away on a quest to repent of his hasty temper.”

  “Why it wasn’t to repent of his hasty temper, Brigitte, lord bless you,” boomed Sir Roger from the high table. “But to repent him of his lusty nature!” A gale of laughter went up, which ceased abruptly when Garman suddenly stood up from his bench, almost overturning it. Lenora gasped and righted herself as the dog bolted under the table.

  Lenora stared ahead of her in frozen dismay as a deathly hush fell over the Great Hall. Garman was scanning the hall, until his gaze fell on his quarry. “You there!” he shouted, then pointed. “Come here. Now!”

  For one horrible moment Lenora thought it was Sir Lionel and he had not shown a clean pair of heels after all. Then she saw to her relief that it was only Kit, looking rather pale. His two friends exchanged glances and then stood up beside him. Lenora’s mind raced. What on earth was she going to do? “You’re making an utter spectacle of me!” she said in a low furious voice that she hoped would carry no further than her husband. He ignored her as the three approached. They stood before the table like guilty penitents as Garman looked them over.

  “You boy,” he said, nodding toward stout Hal Payne, his gaze cold. “Tell me what happened.”

  Hal swallowed audibly. “I-I wasn’t actually there when it blew up,” he admitted. “By the time I came upon them, Kit was atop of Emworth and raining blows upon him.”

  Garman turned to Kit and was silent a moment surveying him. When he did speak it was with a sort of menacing quietness that made Lenora’s stomach clench. “Why?”

  Kit drew himself up, flinging back his head. “Nothing,” he declared dramatically. “Will induce me to tell you what transpired—”

  “Emworth wanted the Lady Lenora to run away with him,” cut in Cuthbert smoothly, then took a large bite out of an apple. Lenora closed her eyes as Garman stiffened and the whole room started a hushed whispering that grew to a swelling roar. Cuthbert unhurriedly swallowed his mouthful. “When she refused,” he continued, raising his voice to make himself heard above the babble. “Emworth lost his head and tried to carry her off with him. Naturally, when Kit heard his cousin calling for help, he ran to her aid and that is when the fight broke out.”

  Lenora opened one eye to find the whole hall listening to the tale with bated breath and wide eyes.

  “Is that what happened?” Garman rapped out. Lenora gasped thinking he was asking her, but when her eyes flew to him, she found he was looking again at Kit.

  “I—er—” Kit stammered. “That is—”

  “Most noble youth!” Sir Roger shouted from the high table. “The honor is yours! We salute you! Kellingford salutes you! What is your name?”

  “It’s Kit, sir. That is—Kit Montmayne.” He bowed, scarlet-cheeked to the thunderous applause that greeted Sir Roger’s words.

  “Kit Montmayne! The hero of the day!” Sir Roger yelled above the clamor. “I vow, I’ll give you today’s medal of valor, for all you did not compete in the field! I saw no deed more deserving!” He reached into the pile of the medals and held a badge aloft to loud cheers. “Approach me, lad, and receive your prize!”

  Lenora gave a faint moan and gazed o
ut glassily as toasts were raised to her young cousin. Kit received the slaps on the back and hearty congratulations with a sort of dazed bashfulness. She looked pointedly at Cuthbert who was still eating his apple, but the youth met her eye with an untroubled gaze. What a cool little liar, she thought indignantly. Then with some trepidation she glanced toward Eden who was staring astonished as the rest and applauding Kit’s heroics, her husband’s arm slung around her shoulders.

  Garman lowered himself back onto his seat, reaching for his cup and tossing it back.

  “That is not quite how I remember it,” Lenora admitted unevenly.

  “You had your chance to tell me what occurred, and you did not take it,” he gritted out, slamming his cup back down.

  “Now, now, it’s not the little bride’s fault Emworth quite lost his head over her,” Lady Brigitte said boisterously.

  Garman ignored her, signaling for a server to bring him more ale. Lenora drew in a shaky breath and took a sip of wine. How people could even believe such a tale, now her looks were gone was beyond her. She snuck another look at her husband, who looked to be silently fuming. Oh dear, she thought with some trepidation. This does not bode well.

  19

  The rest of the night passed between them in stony silence. They barely spoke a word as they made their way back to their tent and both of them washed and undressed without comment and barely any light. Lenora groped her way into the bed and lay there wondering if she should broach the subject of Garman’s ugly mood.

  In the end, she did not feel the equal to it and lay there staring blindly into the darkness as she listened to him move about. It felt like she would never relax enough for sleep, but she must have, for the next thing she knew she was being held in a tight grip and terse words were being murmured into her ear.

  “—all is well. You’re at the tourney at Kellingford. With me.”