Fen gave a start of surprise at this. She had once pretended that the old ring her father gave her was her betrothal ring. “I was only twelve,” she pointed out. “And I seem to remember you were pretending to be a giant devouring the bones of villagers. You kept making squeaky voices, begging for their lives as you ate your meat.”
Roland looked annoyed. “I was an ogre,” he said indignantly. “Devouring the bones of the innocent.”
“Still, I’m impressed you even remember,” said Fen. “It was so long ago.”
“My memory is actually pretty good, despite the fact I’m considered the family blockhead,” he said sourly.
“Are you the family blockhead?” Fen tipped her head and considered him a while. “Why would anyone think so?”
Roland tsked under his breath with annoyance. He held up three fingers. “Mason married money and a title,” he said lowering one. “Oswald is a slithering snake at court,” he lowered a second. “And I have a strong sword arm,” he said flatly.
“‘Slithering snake’?” repeated Fen feeling confused.
“Gods, you’re stupid,” said Roland crossly. “Think about it. All the strange, anonymous
men that appear to do his bidding, the ones that all look interchangeable?” He looked at her expectantly.
Fen thought of the two men who had bought Bors to her. Her dog she noticed, instead of defending her honor, was currently sat under Roland’s chair getting his ear scratched, with a look of bliss on his face.
“Do you even know what Oswald does at court?” Roland asked impatiently. He switched to Bors’ other ear.
Fen flushed. “He is the King’s chief advisor,” she said uncertainly.
“Among other things,” snorted Roland. “Gods, you’re as bad as Mason. Both of you completely blind where Oswald’s concerned, taking everything he says on face value.”
“Well,” said Fen, suddenly feeling fed up with Roland’s insults. “Cheer up. If I’m so stupid maybe I will replace you as family blockhead.”
Roland’s head snapped up, but before he had a chance to respond, the bedroom door opened and Lord Vawdrey strode out.
**
Fenella stole a nervous glance up at Lord Vawdrey’s profile, but his handsome profile did not invite conversation. He seemed a little cold toward her, she thought in dismay. His strides were long and she was starting to puff as she hurried to keep up with him as they made their way along the high-ceiling corridors. She clung to his arm and hoped her exposed bosom wasn’t turning to goose-flesh. At least her hot face was getting a chance to cool down from the icy draughts blasting along the stone flagstone floors.
“My lord,” she faltered, at last forced to admit she was getting a stitch in her side. “Could we slacken the pace a little. It is hard to catch my breath in this dress and I am having to take five steps to your every one.”
He slowed at once and looked down at her with a frown. “Let us hope the dresses signor Pezzini makes will not be so tight,” he said and Fen felt mortified.
She gulped. “I expect they will fit better. Jenny said I am a lot more corpulent than Lady Sumner,” she said and felt her eyes sting.
“Corpulent is not the word I would use,” he said in a clipped voice. “Did you not look in the glass? Or do you want me to pay you a compliment?” Fen’s lip wobbled and he seemed to catch himself. “Fenella…”
“No, no, it’s nothing,” she said hastily. “I did not expect – that is – I know I am not-”
Voices and footsteps were approaching and she heard Oswald curse under his breath. He drew her backwards into a stone alcove where they were hidden in shadow. Fen sucked in a surprised breath and stifled a gasp as he pushed up against her, until the footsteps had passed. Fen did not recognize the voices, but then that was not surprising. She barely knew a soul at court. Her heart raced and she held her breath. Oswald Vawdrey did not speak for a moment and when he did his voice was low and gravelly. “Fenella, under no circumstances are you to let yourself be alone with any other men when I am not in the vicinity. I don’t care if you have to pretend to fall in a fainting fit, do not allow yourself to be sequestered by any other males - even the King. Do you understand?”
She blinked up at him. She could imagine nothing less likely. The King had even ordered her out of his presence in disgust the day before. But even in the shadows, she could make out the tight look on his face so she nodded. “Very well, my lord.”
He breathed out a ragged breath, then stepped sharply back, pulling her with him.
“My Lord Vawdrey!” exclaimed a surprised, yet cultured voice.
Fenella watched a look of annoyance pass briefly over her husband’s face, before it smoothed out into a perfect expression of urbanity. “My Lady Sumner,” he said coolly and bowed before turning to her companion. “Lord Bardulf.” He bowed again, but this time not so deeply.
The other man looked highly amused. “But who is this?” he said turning deliberately to Fenella and letting his lazy gaze travel over her. “Charming creature, and why were you…?” he turned back to look at the alcove from which they had emerged.
“Really, Bardulf,” murmured Lady Sumner disapprovingly. She was very respectable-looking and nothing like Fen had anticipated. She placed an elegant hand on her very white throat and averted her eyes as if confronted with something indecent.
To her surprise, Fen felt Oswald’s hand slide about her waist and draw her closer to his side. “This is my wife, the Countess Vawdrey,” he said in measured tones. Fen felt the gazes of the other two snap to her in surprise. Lady Sumner’s mouth fell open. Bardulf collected himself first and gave her a deep bow. “Fenella,” Oswald continued. “This is Viscount Bardulf and Lady Anne Sumner.”
Lady Sumner dipped into an elegant curtsey. “I am very pleased to meet you,” she murmured, giving Fen a swift appraising look from head to foot. Fen saw the exact moment when she recognized the dress she had lent her.
“I too, am very happy to make your acquaintance,” said Fen and curtseyed in reply.
Bardulf appeared to be silently laughing as he straightened up. “Only you Vawdrey, could arrange things so neatly,” he said shaking his head. “Even with my very great respect for you, I had underestimated your mastery of any situation. A wife, waiting in the wings,” he said turning to Fenella thoughtfully. “Really, no-one could have anticipated such a thing.”
“You must excuse the viscount, Lady Vawdrey,” said Lady Anne addressing her directly. Her voice was faintly patronizing. “He is a droll creature and delights in saying outrageous things.”
Fen opened her mouth to respond, but Lord Vawdrey cut across her.
“If you will excuse us,” he said. “I have a great many people to introduce my wife to this evening.” He squeezed her waist, propelling Fen to join him as they walked the last few steps toward the Great Hall.
“Are they friends of yours?” asked Fen.
Lord Vawdrey shrugged. “I do not have friends, Fenella,” he said. “Let us say, they move in the same circles as I.”
They crossed the threshold into the Great Hall and Fen blinked at the blazing torches and the press of nobles clustered in groups about the banqueting hall.
“The Earl and Countess Vawdrey!” announced a herald in a loud booming voice. Fen heard the swell of conversation grow around them alarmingly. Lord Vawdrey had taken her arm now and was steering her firmly through the crowds toward the far end of the room. She could not see above the glittering company, but after the first few steps she realized they were heading in the direction of a raised dais at the far end of the room and her heart sank. She was not looking forward to another royal encounter. Raising her chin, she attempted to conceal the fact by not allowing her gaze to land on any of the curious faces turned her way. People put up their hands to muffle the words they were hurriedly speaking to one another but she could distinctly make out ‘Thane’ and ‘divorce’. She swallowed and hoped she could blame her heightened color on the huge roaring fireplaces on either end
of the hall, though in truth, it was draughty enough thanks to the high vaulted ceilings which made it as cold as a cathedral. She felt Lord Vawdrey at her side nod to various people, though he did not pause to introduce her to any of them.
When they reached the dais, Lord Vawdrey paused a moment. The King was situated to right and the Queen to the left. There was enough room between them for them to be surrounded by two completely different crowds of people.
“Vawdrey,” hailed the King, but almost simultaneously the Queen leant forward in her seat. “Lord Vawdrey, will you approach and introduce your wife to me?” she asked. The King harrumphed and waved his arm, indicating his assent and Oswald approached the Queen with Fenella.
“Your majesty, may I present my wife, Countess Vawdrey? Fenella, this is Queen Armenal.”
Fenella swept down into a deep curtsey and rose up to find the dark eyed Queen surveying her with great curiosity. Queen Armenal was vastly elegant in a rich green gown with deep borders stitched with gold leaves. She wore a heavy gold collar inlaid with colored enamel and precious stones. Her dark hair was dressed high off her face with a veil cascading down from a golden crown. Fenella had never seen a lady so tall and graceful.
“You may go and speak with the King, my Lord Vawdrey,” said the Queen dismissively to Oswald. “I am keen to have some speech with your new wife.”
His eyebrows rose, but he bowed again and sending Fenella a reassuring look he drifted over to the King.
“Now, Lady Vawdrey,” said the Queen. “You must accept a cup of mead and come closer to me, unless you wish for our words to be overheard by the masses.”
Fenella took a cup from a lady-in-waiting who had appeared at her elbow and then approached the Queen cautiously. She was dismayed to see there were no other chairs on the dais. She would have to hover like a moth around the Queen’s flame.
“I am very pleased to finally clap eyes on this mysterious bride of Lord Vawdrey’s,” said Queen Armenal. “Who on finding herself scorned by her first husband, rides up so brazenly to the royal palace and demands an earl in recompense!”
Fen spilt a little of the honeyed wine down her sleeve and tried to ignore the cold trickle down her wrist as one of the ladies in waiting giggled.
“But you are not as bold-faced as I was led to believe,” said the queen plaintively. She looked Fen critically up and down. “In truth, you are quite sweet-faced.” She sounded disappointed. “And more comely than seductive.”
Fen goggled at her. In all of her days, she would never imagine being told by a Queen that she was sweet-faced and comely! “Th-thank you, your majesty,” she blurted. The ladies in waiting tittered again and Armenal looked irritated.
“If you are waiting on me, then take the step back!” she ordered. Several maidens shuffled backwards with disappointed expressions. The Queen frowned. “The King insists on foisting these girls on me,” she said in exasperation. “He would not be so happy if I chose his cabinet members by the shapeliness of their calves. We married women have much to bear. As I am sure you are more aware than most.”
“Yes, your majesty,” agreed Fen. She glanced to the side to check Oswald had not gone off and left her alone with this alarming woman. He was still stood close by the King now, engaged in conversation, but something about his stance told her he knew exactly where she was. She returned her eyes to Queen Armenal who was watching her with a disturbingly hawk-like gaze.
“And what do you make of this new husband of yours, Lady Vawdrey?” she asked in a quiet voice, tipping her head to one side.
Strangely enough, Fen suddenly remembered being asked a similar thing by old Baron Vawdrey once. “He is very fine,” she answered foolishly, and blushed.
The Queen’s eyes flickered with surprise. “I hardly credited it at the time, but I did hear a rumor. That you were the childhood sweethearts. Can there possibly be a grain of truth to that tale?”
Fen cleared her throat. “I – er – I was very young, your majesty, when we first met,” she said miserably and hung her head. This was disastrous. Instead of coming across as a woman of the world, she had a horrible feeling she looked every bit the over-awed bumpkin. She breathed in and out and tried to collect herself.
“Dear me!” said Armenal. “You are not at all what I was led to expect.” She gave a sad sigh. “It is so often the way. These court scandals are all fury and no substance.”
Fen clutched her fingers together in tongue-tied misery. She had disappointed the Queen now, as well as the King.
“I should so like to have seen Lord Vawdrey led about by the nose for once,” said the Queen sadly. “But I can see you are not the woman to do this.”
“No, your majesty,” she whispered. For one horrible moment, she thought her eyes would fill with tears, but she blinked them very fast and it passed.
“Well,” said the Queen dismissively. “I doubt I shall see you much at court, Lady Vawdrey,” she said with a yawn. “I expect your husband will tuck you away in darkest Vawdreyshire before the month is out.”
“Sitchmarsh,” Fen corrected her automatically.
The queen sat up in her seat and for a moment, Fen thought she would get scolded for impertinence, but then she realized the queen was staring past her. “Ah, how providential!” exclaimed Queen Armenal clapping her hands together. “Who do you suppose I have just spotted across the room?” she asked Fenella in barely concealed excitement.
“I hardly know, your highness,” Fen murmured, wondering if she could fall back from the royal presence any time soon.
“Ah, but it is none other than your former husband,” said the Queen with delight. “And the woman who supplanted you!” She clapped her hands imperiously and an attendant darted forward. Fen froze. “Tell me,” said the Queen turning back to her as the attendant sped away into the crowd. “Have you seen him since his return from the north?”
Fen looked at the Queen’s gleeful face with ill-disguised horror. “N-no, your majesty, that is…” her voice tailed away and she turned to see the crowds parting and Ambrose approaching the dais with his new bride, Lady Colleen. She swayed and suddenly felt a hard body had come up behind her, propping her up and placing a possessive hand at her side. She breathed out, recognizing Lord Vawdrey’s presence and leant back into him in relief.
Oswald Vawdrey’s thumb stroked against her side. He leant down to murmur in her ear. “Don’t be afraid. It is probably for the best to get this awkward encounter out of the way at once.”
She nodded obediently, though in truth this seemed the very worst way of doing it, in front of an avid audience of courtiers. Through glassy eyes she focused on Ambrose’s approach. Far from seeming discomfited, he had a puffed look about him as he bustled forward, nose stuck in the air. He was wearing the pearl-studded tunic from his wedding feast, she noticed. He paused to help Lady Colleen mount the steps to the dais. Strangely enough, he seemed a lot shorter than she remembered. Could he have shrunk in the last two years?
“Sir Arthur,” the Queen greeted him. Fen watched a spasm cross his face as the Queen got his name wrong, but he bowed very low and presented his leg to her. He was wearing burgundy tights and Fen remembered Armenal’s words earlier about calves. Doubtless Ambrose would not have been selected on the strength of his legs, she thought distractedly. Ambrose straightened up, but his eyes scrupulously avoided Fenella and instead fixed on the Queen. His wife hovered at his side, her gaze darting from Queen Armenal to the watching courtiers as if she could not decide which she would rather look at. She curtseyed so low that her forehead nearly grazed the floor.
“Sir Arthur, Lady Thane,” said the Queen. “May I present to you Earl and Countess Vawdrey, who I believe you will have something in common with.” The Queen paused as their audience drew in a collective baited breath. “Being so recently newly-wed,” she added slyly and a shiver of mirth ran through the crowd.
“How do you do,” said Lord Vawdrey, sounding politely bored.
Fen fixed a smile on h
er face and dropped into a shallow curtsey. She couldn’t go any deeper as Oswald’s hand clamped on her side prevented it.
“I hope there is no awkwardness in this encounter,” said the Queen archly. “Is this the first time that all of you have met since your divorce and subsequent re-marriages?” she enquired.
“Yes, your majesty,” said Ambrose, dropping into another bow. His wife bobbed again beside him.
Fen noticed how studiously he avoided looking at her. Coward, she thought with surprise. Had he thought to cast her off and never be troubled by seeing her again? She had not thought so ill of him. Her face was starting to hurt from the forced smiling and the encounter was starting to take on the properties of a nightmare. She placed a hand on Oswald Vawdrey’s at her waist, as if to draw strength from his show of solidarity. Just as she thought it couldn’t get any worse, she noticed the discreet string of pearls around Lady Colleen’s throat. Surely not, she thought, her breath coming in very short, painful pants. The last time she had seen those they had been safely stored in her own jewelry box at Thurrold. She must be mistaken, she thought in anguish. Her replacement could not be flaunting her own mother’s pearls? She knew them so well, the small necklet with the red enamel clasp. Every seventh stone was not a pearl at all, but a gold colored glass bead. Her straining eyes could see the very same details on the small necklace around Ambrose’s bride’s neck. Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, she realized there could be no mistake. Ambrose had gifted her pearls to his new wife. And he had no right, she thought, her hand trembling as she placed it absently to her own throat. He had no right to give her own dear mother’s pearls to that woman! She felt sick. Almost, she fancied she could see a gloating look on Colleen Thane’s face, but that must be in her own mind, she told herself. Ambrose probably had not even told his new wife that he had not bought her them himself. Unable to help herself she looked across again and found Lady Thane was looking right at her now, as she very slowly raised a hand to touch the necklace. It would look like a casual movement to any onlooker, but herself. Fen gasped sharply. A smirk passed over the new Lady Thane’s face which almost knocked Fen off her feet. She did know. She knew she was wearing Fen’s necklace, and she was triumphant of the fact! Fen’s heart started thudding in her chest and she tightened her grip on her Oswald’s fingers so hard that her fingers turned white.
His Forsaken Bride (Vawdrey Brothers Book 2) Page 14