“Visitors?” His heart quailed. “Not the same ones as last night?” he asked with sudden misgiving.
Peter shook his head. “They’m new ones, Janet said.”
“Oh, very well,” Armand said, straightening up. “Hold that thought, Otho,” he said sternly. “We will revisit that topic again. Oh, and now I come to think of it, make sure you hire that drunken baker. What’s his name?”
“Beverley,” Otho ground out. “But I don’t think—”
“Hire him!” Armand yelled back over his shoulder, as he exited the stable and Otho’s obvious chagrin restored the smile back on his lips. He was whistling “The Maid of Hamblin’s Ruin,” as he made his way back up to the house. Or what was it, Una had said it was called in the North? Something about a wicked archer? He’d have to ask her.
As he opened the door, Janet greeted him with wide eyes. “The mistress is still in her bath,” she blurted. “And Rose is helping her to wash her hair.”
Armand checked on the threshold. “Very good,” he said, at something of a loss as to Janet’s breathless manner. “Where are the visitors?”
“Awaiting you in the great hall, sir. I didn’t like to take them up to the solar without your say so.”
Even before he reached the great hall, Armand recognized the strident female tones emanating out of it.
“Now, Toby, you put that down!” she scolded. “This is your uncle’s house and everything in it belongs to him.” There was a sudden clatter as if Toby had dropped whatever the item was to the ground. “Oh, Toby! Now you have put a dent in it!”
Armand groaned. Now his bloody sister and her offspring had descended on them! He passed into the room and regarded his sister warily. Anne was tall and dark like him and a handsome woman, despite her determined jaw. “Anne,” he said. “Well met. And my nephew and …” His eyes passed over the other small person regarding him through rounded eyes. “Niece.”
“Very good,” his sister said sarcastically. “Now demonstrate to me if you can remember their names?”
“Of course, I can,” he said glibly and placed a hand on the boy’s head. “Let me see.” He tapped a finger on his chin, sizing up the little girl who must have been about five or six. “My niece’s name is Currant Bun,” he said ruminatively, as the little girl giggled. “S’not! It’s Joan!”
“And my nephew’s name is Jam Tart.”
“S’not!” his nephew roared lustily. “S’not Jam Tart!”
“I was joking, of course,” he said, turning back to Anne. “Their names are, of course, Joan and Toby. Satisfied?”
“Still think fast and land on your feet, I see,” his sister smirked. “That much hasn’t changed.”
Armand came forward and he brushed her cheek dutifully with his own. He had always thought his sister tall for a female, but Una had at least two inches on her. “Anne,” he said in cautious greeting. “You are very welcome. How are you?” He looked around at the chaos of brass and silver strewn all over the tables. “I would offer you a seat, but …”
“The benches at are least clear,” she said, sinking down onto the nearest one.
Armand following her example, sat opposite her. He watched distractedly as Joan darted underneath one of the tables closely followed by a waddling Toby. “Have they no nurse?”
“I married a farmer,” Anne replied shortly.
“A wealthy farmer.”
She brushed this aside. “I thought you might want to see them,” she said in a faintly accusatory tone.
“Did you?” Armand’s brow puckered. What strange notions women did get into their heads.
“You haven’t even met Toby before,” she said waspishly.
Armand cast a dutiful eye over the child. “He seems very short.”
“He isn’t yet three years old!”
“That would explain it.”
“Is that it?” Anne demanded, struggling to find words. She huffed out a breath. “I see you’re still devoid of every proper feeling.”
Armand stretched out his long legs and leaned back on the table, elbowing a large, embellished butter dish out of the way. “Did you imagine I might have undergone some kind of change?” He asked, lazily. “Sorry to disenchant you.”
“Well, I did hear you’re now married,” she pointed out. “You may imagine how I felt being informed of the fact by Muriel!” she said bitterly.
“Why should that rankle?”
“I’m your twin! Yet I have to hear this news through our sister-in-law.” Armand shrugged. This was nothing new. Anne was always flying up into the boughs about something. “Where is she then?” she asked irritably. “Am I not even to be dignified with an appearance?”
Armand’s attitude of indolence disappeared at once, as he straightened up. “She’s at her bath,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “And you’re not to start in on her with that shrewish tongue of yours.”
Anne opened her mouth to hiss back at him, but Janet chose this moment to come sailing in from the kitchen with a tray of ale and milk for the children. Anne swallowed her words as Janet set their refreshment down in the midst of a suit of armor, curtseyed, and then retreated back to the kitchen.
“At least someone here knows what’s due to a guest!” Anne snapped, reaching for the milk jug. “Toby! Joan! Come and take some milk!” Once the children had dribbled milk all over themselves and the floor, they returned to their game under the table. His sister poured out ale for the two of them and regarded Armand thoughtfully over the rim of her cup.
“Muriel told me that you were pawing and fondling your bride the entire meal, in such a fawning manner it quite turned their stomachs.”
Armand nearly spat out his ale but managed to gulp it down before going off in a coughing fit. Gods, Muriel must have the most uptight views that he had ever heard of! He almost pitied Henry. “They burst in on us, unannounced,” he answered with as much dignity as he could muster, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “And we are newly wed.”
Anne regarded him with interest. “So, it’s a love match, is it?” she said smugly. “I knew you’d go off the deep end, one of these days. It was bound to happen. Muriel said she’s wildly extravagant, without a practical thought in her head. Says she’ll bankrupt you within a twelvemonth.”
“Oh, Muriel said that, did she?” He rallied. “Well, Muriel’s wrong.”
“Well, well, look at you springing to her defense, brother. I never thought I’d see the day! Armand de Bussell rushing to defend a lady’s reputation.”
“So glad I can afford you some entertainment,” he muttered through slightly clenched teeth.
“Roger said you were done up like a regular coxcomb to impress her. Parading round in gold chauses like a courtier.”
“Only one leg was gold,” Armand corrected her testily, before realizing that didn’t sound much better.
Anne’s eyebrow rose. “Who is she? Some squire’s daughter from those barbarous tournaments you will insist on frequenting. Or did you finally get caught in the parson’s trap by a designing widow?”
“That’s enough Anne—,” he started, when they both heard a step on the stair. He held up his hand for silence, and at that moment a cascade of falling silver salvers rang out deafening them all for several seconds. When the ring of metal faded, a child’s loud wails started up in the far corner, causing even more of a din. Anne jumped up from her seat and went flying across the room in search of her progeny.
Armand closed his eyes an instant, then looked up and saw Una stood in the entrance of the room, wearing a becoming gown of blue silk with a simple fitted bodice and elaborate sleeves, slashed to show the crisp white of her underrobe.
Her hair was only loosely braided and looped over her shoulder, he guessed because it was still damp, but it made her look quite girlish, without its usual arrangement. When her eyes sought him out, he smiled at her and extended his hand without thinking. She came to him immediately and as he drew her down beside him, surprised him by leaning forward
to press her lush mouth to his.
That was when he felt that strange sensation again, like a surge of blood rushing through his chest. Immediately, he forgot all about Anne’s irritating visit and found moving himself seeking a second touch of those sweet lips against his. He even closed his eyes for a few seconds to savor it. Then another child started bawling and he returned to earth with a bump, quickly turning his head to find his sister staring at him from the other end of the room, one infant on her hip and another clutching at her skirts.
“Anne,” he said unevenly. “This is my wife, Una. Una, this is my sister, Anne and her delightful children,” he added dryly. “Who seem determined to put dents in all our plate.”
Una stood up immediately. “I’m delighted to meet you, Anne,” she said with a brief curtsey. “I’ve very much looked forward to meeting Armand’s twin.”
A look of surprise crossed over Anne’s face as she returned the gesture. “Oh, he’s told you about me, has he? Good of him!” Armand could see her eyes appraising Una with open speculation, and he felt a stab of something unpleasant and unfamiliar jolt him to his core. He wondered for a moment what it even was. He struggled to put a name to it, he felt so wholly unaccustomed to it. A sort of anxiousness or trepidation was the closest he could come to it.
He sent a look of dark warning in Anne’s direction as he circled an arm about Una’s waist. There was no way in hells he was leaving Una alone with his meddlesome sister.
“Is that your dear little boy?” Una was asking. “Armand told me he was an uncle. It looks like he has bumped his head. Can we get him something from the kitchens to help with the swelling?” She would have taken a step forward, but Armand’s restraining arm prevented her.
“This is my son, Toby,” Anne admitted grudgingly. “And this my daughter, Joan.”
“I’m very pleased to make their acquaintance,” Una said, smiling encouragingly at the two children, who were now subdued after the commotion they had caused and giving an entirely false impression of shyness.
“Perhaps we could get them some fruit from the garden,” Una said doubtfully. “I’m afraid we don’t have any comfits or treats at present, as we have only just engaged a cook.”
“They’ve had milk,” Armand pointed out. He privately thought neither child deserving of reward.
“How kind of you,” his sister said suddenly, with an ingratiating smile that immediately put Armand on his guard. “Are you fond of children, Una?”
“I … that is, yes,” Una answered, flushing slightly. Armand’s head turned sharply to look at her. Was she?
“Come now, Toby,” his sister wheedled. “Would you not like to go and greet your Aunt Una and welcome her into the family?”
“No! No!” Toby yelled, burying his head in his mother’s shoulder.
“I will,” piped up Joan, tripping forward with a gummy smile. Surely, she should have teeth by now? Armand thought, noticing the child had nothing but bare gums at the front. When she reached Una, she angled up her head and screwed up her face. Armand regarded her with bewilderment, but Una seemed to realize what was due and bent down to kiss the child on the cheek.
Joan turned back to send a smug look at her brother over her shoulder. “You see, Toby, I can do it,” she caroled. “I’m a good girl.”
“No! No!” screamed Toby kicking his legs. “Not Joan! Not Joan!” Anne set his wriggling body down and he stomped up over to Una with a fierce scowl and tears still glittering in his eyes before he repeated the same action. Again, Una bent down and kissed his cheek. His bottom lip quivered as though he were still debating throwing back his head and screeching.
Armand blanched and braced himself, but Una’s calm voice suggested they repair to the solar where they could sit in less cluttered surroundings. Armand half expected his sister to refuse the offer, she had been so prickly at the outset, but to his surprise she almost jumped at the chance, sending a gloating expression his way as she mounted the stairs behind Una.
He wasn’t quite sure how it was, but Armand found himself carrying up the children one on each arm. At such close quarters, their penetrating stares were somewhat unnerving.
“Why haven’t you got a beard?” Joan asked in her high carrying voice. “Fathers always have beards.”
“I’m not a father,” Armand said shortly. “And if it comes to that, where are your teeth?”
Joan giggled. “They keep falling out,” she confided. “I bit into an apple and my front one came out. This one,” she said pulling down her lip to show him the gap.
Armand felt both impressed and faintly revolted. “Maybe you should stop eating apples,” he suggested.
“I gotter napple,” Toby interrupted, keen to prevent Joan from gathering all the glory. He breathed in and out excitedly as Armand wondered if this was the full extent of his contribution. “I hided it.”
“No, you did not you storyteller!” Joan burst out indignantly. “Mother! Tell Toby to stop telling lies!”
“I not!” screamed Toby.
Armand only managed to stick half an hour with them in the solar, before he was forced to go in search of Otho for some respite. Even visiting tenant farmers was preferable to spending his time with his family. If Anne thought she could blacken his name to Una while her hideous children were in tow, running circles around them and upsetting tables, then good luck to her was all he could say!
9
Una picked up the small table and set the book back on top of it for the third time, as Anne scooped Toby up and remonstrated with him.
“He’s tired,” she said, shooting a defensive look at Una.
“Well, he’s only little,” Una murmured tactfully. Poor Abelard had retreated shaking under a wooden bench. New faces seemed to set him back considerably in his recovery and the noisy children seemed to be his limit. Una had expected him to slope off to her bedchamber, but he wasn’t quite willing to let her out of his sight just yet.
Joan, who had initially wanted to play with the little dog, was finally sat quietly in the window seat, having a whispered conversation with a faded cushion she insisted on calling Ida.
Anne pulled a face and lowered her voice. “Ida was a girl we had at the farm last year for a while. Very taken with her the children were, but they weren’t the only ones, so I had to get rid of her,” she said significantly. “If you catch my meaning. If you will take my advice, you won’t spare any time doing likewise with that girl Rose you’ve got under your roof.”
Rose had brought them up more drinks earlier. “Rose is a very obliging girl,” Una replied mildly, and Anne gave her a pitying look.
“Those are the ones you need to look out for, my dear. I know you’re new to this, but it’s never too early to nip these things in the bud. My John has never had a roving eye, unlike Armand, but I make sure never to dangle a tempting morsel beneath his nose like that. You’re setting him up for a fall.”
“Does Armand have a roving eye?” Una asked, not particularly surprised for she had seen enough of those easy manners and charming smiles to guess as much.
“Well, let me put it this way, he had always had a lively appreciation of women,” said Anne with feeling.
“I see.” Una said slowly. “Well, Rose is exceedingly pretty, but she is also a modest and virtuous girl. “Even if she did catch his eye, I do not think he would willfully seduce an innocent young woman under his own roof.”
Anne grimaced. “Maybe not, but he has a smooth tongue and a handsome face. He never lacked for feminine attention I assure you, even at sixteen. I remember one time our father was forced to intercede in an entanglement he got himself into—” She hesitated. “But perhaps that is not a suitable story for me to tell.”
Una smiled at her reassuringly. “I am aware that my husband was not a monk before he met me,” she responded calmly.
Anne set down her cup and jiggled Toby on her shoulder. The child’s breathing was noisy and regular, and he seemed to have finally fallen asleep. “You’re
not what I was led to expect,” she said frankly. “Muriel has many faults, but she’s usually a decent judge of character. I can’t think why she was so mistaken about you.”
Una winced. “In truth I was not quite feeling well last night. I fear I made a poor impression.”
Anne looked intrigued. “You’re not …?” Una looked back at her expectantly. “With child?” she suggested, lowering her voice confidentially.
“I shouldn’t think so,” Una answered truthfully. “It’s such early days.”
Anne looked coy. “You never know,” she said vaguely. “It might explain—” She bit off her words with dismay. “I mean, it would probably be good for Armand. Teach him some responsibility and encourage him to be a little less selfish. Of course, it would thoroughly dash my own son’s chances of inheriting Anninghurst,” she said with a regretful sigh. “But then, John always said the chances were never that high anyway. Not with Roger forswearing the religious life like he did.”
Una lowered her own cup. “Anninghurst is your father’s seat I think?”
“Oh yes, and there’s not the smallest chance of Henry ever having issue now. Muriel must be well past child-bearing years,” Anne continued blithely. “But I never would have foreseen Armand settling down for another good ten years or so,” she admitted. “Which all just goes to show you should never count your chicks before the eggs hatch,” she said with a philosophical shrug.
“As I understand it,” Una said, refilling their cups. “You have not seen Armand in a few years.”
Anne reached for a cup with a snort. “That’s an understatement. “He avoids Derring like the plague.” She shot a sideways glance at Una. “Has he spoken to you of his upbringing?” Una opened her mouth, but Anne did not let her continue. “He was our mother’s favored child, you know. She spoiled him to the exclusion of the rest of us. She always used to say he took after her own father and never had a good word to say about Henry or Roger. It was all Armand, Armand, Armand.” Anne’s lips thinned with displeasure. “Of course, now I’m a mother myself, I see just how bad it was.”
The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok Book 3) Page 18