An Ill-Made Match (Vawdrey Brothers Book 3)

by Alice Coldbreath

  This is a work of fiction and any names, characters, events or organisations are either a product of my imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or people is purely coincidental.

  © Alice Coldbreath, 2018

  This book is dedicated to Leslie Carter, my own personal cheer squad. Thank you, Leslie for all your encouragement. It is much appreciated! Love from Alice.

  The Royal Summer Tournament at Caer-Lyoness

  Roland gazed through his visor at the noble’s box, and saw her straight away. Eden Montmayne. In a sea of fluttering pretty gowns she sat there all in black, like a crow sat among a crowd of doves. Why then, did his traitorous pulse pick up to see her there? He spat into the dust. Doubtless it was that bloody dream he woke from in the early hours, breathless and hard with need. The same dream he’d been having for a six-month now. His loins didn’t seem to care one whit that she was a sour-faced bitch with more airs and graces than the King and Queen combined. He shook his sweaty hair from out of his face as his squire led his horse toward him, decked out in his colors of red and black. So intent was he on his horse, that the blow to his shoulder from behind made him wheel round in surprise. But it was only his comrade-in-arms, Sir Ned Bevan. “Bev,” he murmured.

  “You’ve seen her then?” his friend said, with a nod in her direction.

  Roland stiffened. “What of it?”

  “Well, I’m just guessing that’s who you’ll be giving the Summer Queen’s crown to when you beat de Bussell.”

  Roland nearly choked on his own tongue. “Her?” he spluttered. “Hardly! Why in god’s name would I give the tribute to her?”

  Sir Ned blinked at him, taken aback by his vehemence. “Steady on Roly,” he said in bewilderment. “Everyone knows she’s the most beauteous maid in all Karadok.”

  Roland stared at him a moment. Then glanced back at the box to see Eden seated next to Fair Lenora, her cousin. He hadn’t even noticed Lenora sat there, with her blinding beauty. Because the only one he could focus on was Eden Montmayne with her nose stuck in the air and her mouth pursed up like a maiden aunt! What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Luckily Cuthbert arrived with his horse, so he turned from his confused friend to mount the large charger’s back as his squire passed him up his lance. The crowd grew louder with excitement and Bavol moved his feet uneasily and tossed his head.

  “Steady boy,” he murmured. The fact was, he couldn’t dismiss the Lady Eden nowadays, not now he knew how that sharp tongue tasted and made desire curl low in his belly. Unable to stop himself he glanced in her direction again. She rarely graced the tourneys with her presence. Too low-brow an entertainment in her book, no doubt. Well, he’d give her something to look at, better than her pet poets, he vowed with a curl of his lip. He’d let her see him in all his glory, lifting the victor’s cup.

  *

  “He’s looking at you again,” said Lenora matter of factly.

  Eden froze. “Whoever do you mean?” she asked though she knew full well who her cousin was referring to. Roland Vawdrey, the bane of her existence.

  “Roland Vawdrey,” said her cousin, speaking aloud the name that Eden had deliberately left unspoken.

  Eden repressed the urge to scream. “I’m sure he’s just looking at you, dear,” she forced herself to say, though her breathing quickened. She steadfastly refused to look in the direction her cousin was placidly gazing.

  “No, he isn’t,” said Lenora tranquilly. “He hasn’t looked my way once, since you kissed him.”

  Eden had to bite back the childish retort that sprang to her lips. I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me! Only the ruthless self-control she had exerted over herself from a young age saved her. Taking a calming breath in and out, she focused on the hazy blue sky and ignored the fact she was sat watching jousting, which she hated, specifically Roland Vawdrey jousting, who she hated even more. And that she was starting to perspire, which was her biggest hatred of all. Discreetly, she lifted her veil from the back of her neck to allow the breeze to cool her. The midday sun was really starting to make itself felt. Briefly, Eden considered explaining to her cousin just how much she disliked anyone referring to that solstice eve when Roland Vawdrey, in answer to a jester’s forfeit, had kissed her, tasting of spiced wine and hot sin. But that would mean confessing that she thought of it at all, and Eden never liked admitting to weaknesses. So instead, she folded her lips and did her best to look indifferent, as the two great hulking brutes thundering toward each other on their destriers, and collided with a great clash of lances. The crowd roared as their lances splintered on impact. Eden winced faintly at the thud of bodies hitting the ground. They’d both been unhorsed, she noticed with distaste. What happened in that event? Eden never attended the lists if she could get out of it. She watched now as they both rose from the dust, groping for their long swords. Eden sighed. Really? As if they hadn’t wrought enough damage on each other’s body’s. Roland Vawdrey was suddenly beating down on the other’s sword with a sudden burst of furious strength. The other knight, Eden had forgotten his name, who had seemed for a while equally mighty, fell to his knees under such a vicious onslaught. His sword was knocked from his nerveless fingers and Roland stuck his own blade-point under the wretched loser’s throat. They both turned their heads toward the royal box where the King and Queen sat watching. “Rise!” bellowed the King, coming to his feet and standing with his hands on the edge of the box. He nodded to the crowd as they drummed their heels against the wooden stands. Both combatants were now on their feet. “You’ve much improved de Bussell,” said the King. “But you’re not yet strong enough to rival the best.” The King’s gaze swept the crowd. “I give you your champion and mine. Sir Roland Vawdrey!” The crowd roared. Roland swaggered toward the royal box and the King passed him down a golden chalice and a purse of gold as prize. Then the final item – a floral wreath for the champion to bestow on the most beauteous maiden in attendance.

  His own lance broken, Roland had to take up another to loop the flower-ring over. Eden’s eyes narrowed as she saw him walk toward the noble’s box where they sat, and she inched away from her cousin’s side, so he could hold up the floral tribute to Lenora. Sure enough, the lance tip hovered before her fair cousin and composedly, Lenora slipped it from the end with a smile and a wave to the cheering crowd before slipping over her pretty blonde hair. Roland had already turned his back and walked away as soon as Lenora put her hand to it. He did not wait to see her crowned. Eden glanced at her cousin to see if she was put out, but she looked as serene and placid as ever. In Eden’s opinion Roland should have waited for Lenora’s smile. He ought to have bowed when he offered tribute to the prettiest maiden in all Karadok. But no, he was an arrogant boor to the very last! Eden’s lips pinched tight. She had no idea why the crowd adored him so. Doubtless it was those Vawdrey looks that were to blame. The black brows and the strong jaw, the warm brown eyes and that curling dark hair. And there was the fact the crowd liked a winner. Otherwise, she told herself with a sniff, she could not account for it.

  “He only gives it to me because I’m the prettiest,” said Lenora.

  Eden looked up in surprise. For a second, her cousin’s voice had sounded almost wistful. “Of course you are,” said Eden at a loss. “It’s your due.”

  “No, I mean-” Lenora broke off with a frustrated sigh. “He doesn’t-” She bit her lip. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you feeling well?” Eden asked her cousin. “Only it is very warm today and Uncle Leofric said-.”

  “Yes, don’t fuss,” said Lenora reaching across to clasp Eden’s hand. “You know I like to watch the jousting.
”

  “I have no idea why,” grouched Eden. The idea her serene cousin liked to watch sweaty men grapple in the dirt was bizarre to her.

  “Because no-one expects you to converse with them,” said Lenora. “And I love the anonymity of a crowd.”

  “Anonymity?” repeated Eden in surprise. “You’ve just been crowned the Tourney Queen!”

  Lenora shrugged. “Look around you,” she said calmly. “Does anyone look like they care? All focus is on the combatants not me. This,” she said pointing to the floral wreath in her hair, “Is merely one of the trappings of the tournament, and soon forgotten.”

  Eden scanned the audience. Her cousin was wrong. It was only in the noble’s box that no-one batted an eyelid at her crowning. In the masses below, she spied many a woman casting an envious or admiring look Lenora’s way. But perhaps her cousin meant that no men were looking at her? In that respect, she was quite right, for once no men were staring. They were all looking at their idols who were now receiving runner-up tokens. She saw one mother pointing Lenora out to her child. She fancied she could almost hear her words. ‘Look at the beautiful princess, my darling’. The little girl waved, but Lenora was oblivious.

  Eden elbowed her. “You’re wrong. Wave to that small child.”

  Lenora raised a surprised hand. “Where-?” she asked. Eden pointed her out. Lenora waved obligingly and the small child jumped with excitement turning back to her mother.

  “Lenora,” said Eden heavily. “You really need to make more of an effort to connect with other people.”

  Her cousin looked startled. “Why?” she asked.

  “Because…” Eden took a deep breath. “Try to understand. That woman probably had to work for weeks to earn these few hours of respite from hard labor. They queue for hours too, to occupy those spectator seats. This is a treat for her daughter, to see the pretty ladies on display, and the noblemen compete. She will remember this day through the rest of her life. And the moment when you waved at her will be the high point. It’s such a small thing to you, but-” She broke off when she heard the embarrassing throb of emotion in her own voice. “The childhood of a peasant is very short-lived,” she said brusquely. “That little girl will be expected to earn a crust before ‘ere long. Surely you do not begrudge her a mere wave of your hand.”

  Lenora’s eyes were wide. “I never thought of it that way,” she said, and leaned forward to look down from the box. To Eden’s surprise, Lenora raised her hand again and gave a hesitant wave and a nod. “Should I throw them some coin?” she asked nervously. “I have my alms purse.”

  “You might start a stampede,” said Eden, ever sensible. Instead, she beckoned to one of the royal pages who lined the steps. He darted forward obligingly, in hope of a tip. “Lady Lenora would like to bestow some coin on that child and her mother,” she said pointing them out. “And will give you a penny for your pains.”

  The page held out his palm obligingly and Lenora tipped her alms purse into it.

  “That’s rather a lot,” said Eden looking at the pile of coins. The page was now cupping it in both his hands.

  “I want them to have it,” insisted Lenora.

  “Send the purse then,” said Eden. “’Twould be easier for them to carry. Wait,” she said eyeing Lenora’s gold brocade purse with tasseling. “My purse is much plainer,” she said reaching for her own black purse, which was suspended from her belt.

  “No, give them mine,” said Lenora. “They can keep it as a memento of this day.”

  They would probably sell it, thought Eden, but held her tongue as the page skipped off.

  Lenora put her hands on the edge of the box and watched the page deliver her purse. She smiled and nodded again.

  Eden watched the woman’s astonishment and delight at the gift. She curtseyed and then hid the purse about her, without opening it. Sensible woman, thought Eden approvingly. She would do much better to open it in privacy at home. “Now they will remember that the princess was benevolent, as well as beautiful,” she said aloud.

  “I’m not a princess,” Lenora pointed out.

  “To that child you are,” Eden answered. She kept her face forward, though she could feel her cousin’s gaze on her profile.

  “I wish I was like you, Eden,” Lenora burst out at last.

  “Me?” she turned her head at that, and the force of feeling in Lenora’s words. Her cousin was not known for speaking her mind.

  Lenora nodded. “I’m selfish,” she said unhappily. “And, I don’t really like people.” She turned her troubled gaze on Eden. “I’m not a good person,” she finished. “Not like you.”

  Eden opened and closed her mouth. “Nonsense,” she scoffed, but Lenora was holding up a dainty hand.

  “I did not mean for you to placate me,” she said quietly. “I just wanted to – to be truthful for once. You probably know me better than anyone, except for Grandmother. Yet even you…”

  “What?” asked Eden, feeling lost in the conversation.

  “Don’t realize… what an empty shell I am. Or perhaps you do, but you do not wish to own it,” she added painstakingly.

  “Lenora… You are too harsh on yourself,” said Eden awkwardly. While it was true that her cousin could be vacuous, she was never unkind.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes,” Eden insisted. “And I don’t approve of… people just making statements like that and then moping about it a day or so before reverting to their old ways,” she said, rallying herself. “If you wish to be less selfish, then espouse a cause. If you don’t like the people around you, then…” she cast about. “Try spending time with someone else. Someone you admire.”

  “I already spend more time with you than anyone,” Lenora pointed out mildly.

  Eden, who had never before realized she was an object of her cousin’s admiration, blinked. “Someone who could benefit from your society then,” she persisted doggedly.

  Lenora sighed. “I tried sponsoring one of your impoverished artists before, and they just fell in love with me and made things awkward.”

  That was true enough, thought Eden. Men fell in love with Lenora at a glance. Her cousin gave them no encouragement, but it happened all the same. “How about taking up the cause of a lady then,” suggested Eden heartily. “You never trouble to make any female friends of your own, and I believe that to be a great mis-step. Female friendship is a great source of solace, comfort and joy. You could befriend some newcomer at court and help her on her way…”

  “Oh but I’m hopeless with women,” objected Lenora matter-of-factly. “They are not merely content to sit and look at one’s face. They expect you to have… opinions and stories to tell. And I have none,” she said with a little shrug.

  Eden looked at her cousin critically. “Of course you do,” she argued. “That’s an absurd thing to say, Lenora.”

  Her cousin shook her head. “No, it’s the truth,” she said calmly. I have nothing to offer as a friend. It’s because my growth was stunted.”

  Eden’s jaw dropped. “Whatever do you mean?” she demanded. “We’re – we’re the same height for heaven’s sake!”

  “Not my physical growth,” Lenora corrected her. “It’s like that wise woman told me that time outside Hallam Abbey. Don’t you remember?”

  Eden suppressed a snort. In her opinion, Lenora set far too much store in what fortune-tellers told her. She always had. “Was that the one who said there was a curse on your pretty face?” she asked sarcastically, as she eyed the crowd. They were starting to disperse now and filter out of the stands.

  Lenora flinched. “Yes,” she said hollowly. “That was her.”

  “Well, I hardly think-“

  “She said you and I were two branches of an old and venerated tree. Though my branch was higher up with superior views, your branch was flourishing and putting forth leaves, while my branch was stunted and withered and bore no buds.”

  Eden rolled her eyes. “Lenora-”

  “Don’t you see?” sai
d Lenora again, lighting up with unaccustomed enthusiasm. “I’ve thought it through, and she was right! All anyone ever told me as a child was how beautiful I was and how well I would marry – at least a duke or an earl, if not a prince!”

  “Well, yes,” agreed Eden. “But I don’t see-”

  “There you have it,” said Lenora, sitting back in her seat. “That kind of talk stunted me,” she shrugged her shoulders. “All that was ever expected of me was to sit and look pretty. While you were devouring books and your studies, I stagnated. It stunted me. I never… grew, as I should. At the end of the day, I’m only half-made.”

  Eden stared at her cousin. Where had this come from? She had never heard Lenora speak in such a way. “I – but, if that’s the way you feel then there’s still time Lenora,” she tried to reason with her. “There are still books to read and dancing masters and music lessons and-”

  “No,” her cousin said simply. “No, there isn’t. The opportunity is quite gone. My father expects me to marry before my twenty-first birthday. He would be appalled if I told him I wanted to engage tutors and to study at this late stage. Beside,” she said hopelessly. “My mind is quite formed, and it is just a sad blank. I have no conversation. I have only this,” she pointed to her face. “The wise woman was quite right about that. Only, now I think we must have mis-remembered her words. I don’t think she said there was a curse on my pretty face. I think said that my pretty face was the curse.”

  Eden tried and failed to hide her concern. She had never dreamed that Lenora had such thoughts, or, if she was truthful, that she was even capable of thinking such things. Lenora was, well… not a deep thinker. She mostly seemed to daydream her days away and seemed happiest of all left in peace with her cat or with old decrepit suitors that posed no threat. That she could have been having such thoughts, was disturbing to Eden. She struggled to think of what to say.

  “Do not fret yourself, cousin,” Lenora told her, placing a hand on her sleeve. “I did not mean to pose this as a thorny knot for you to unravel. There is nothing to be done about it now. I must simply tread this path that has been laid out before me. I must,” she said. “Marry well and soon.”