An Ill-Made Match (Vawdrey Brothers Book 3)

by Alice Coldbreath

  Performance? Thankfully the big white dog bounded up again with a loud bark, and Roland was forced to release her and remonstrate with him. “Cease Castor!” he boomed, before seizing the animal and wrestling the large beast to the ground. Eden backed up a few steps in alarm, but after a moment, noticed the dog was wagging his tail even though he was snarling in a terrifying manner. “Daft cur!” Roland laughed, as Castor bestowed a lick to his face. As if to some unspoken signal, the other dogs all pounced en masse, and Roland disappeared under a wave of wagging dog bodies. “Let me up!” he groaned, after a few minutes of rolling on the floorboards with them. “Parnell you rogue, you’ve grown damned heavy.” Eden regarded him speechlessly. Her uncle kept a house-dog, a civilized old thing, but the hunting dogs were kept separately in a pen well away from the Hall and were kept as working dogs, not pets. “Come here,” he said holding out a hand to Eden. “I want them to know your scent.” He was crouched now among a sea of large dogs. Eden approached, determined not to show that she would be much more at home with Lenora’s cats. “Castor!” Roland called and the big white dog he had called Baron Vawdrey’s favorite, stepped forward. “Meet Eden.” Roland took her hand and placed it on the dog’s broad head. The dog emitted a low growl and Roland rebuked him sharply. Castor tossed his head, dislodging her hand and wheeled around to sniff at her fingers. “Aye, that’s it,” Roland said, though she was not sure if he spoke to her or the beast. “Good lad, very good.” The dog, thought Eden. “Now pet him,” he said, still not lifting his eyes from the dog’s face. Oh, now that was directed at her. Hesitantly, Eden extended her fingers toward Castor’s wide brow. He gave a rumble in his throat and Roland seized his scruff, holding him tight. “This is your mistress,” he said sternly. Castor looked up at her, with a proud, scornful look. Of course, the animal did not comprehend the words, she told herself uneasily. “Let him sniff you again,” Roland recommended, loosing the dog who lunged forward and glared up at her tensely, before barking loudly at her. Eden froze as Roland hauled him back again. “You always were a stubborn wretch!” he scolded. “That’s probably enough for now,” he added, straightening up. “It won’t happen overnight.”

  Eden nearly jumped out of her skin as a wet doggy nose pushed into her hand. “Hello,” she said to this dog who had a coat of curly sandy hair and a much friendlier aspect. “Who’s this?”

  “Parnell,” said Roland. “Hie, Parnell! You’ve a fancy to be a lady’s lap-dog, have you?”

  A lap dog? The animal was the size of a sheep! Eden patted his neck and he panted, his tongue lolling out. The other dogs milled around, but didn’t get any closer to her. Clearly, they followed Castor’s lead and not Parnell’s. “An independent thinker, I see,” she murmured, noticing the strong smell of dog that was assailing her nostrils.

  “It’s good you like dogs,” said Roland airily. “We Vawdreys have always kept dogs at the Keep.”

  Eden could think of no answer to this, instead she turned back to scanning the mysterious objects in the room. Now she noticed it, the large table’s surface was covered in dust as well as an assortment of daggers.

  Noticing the direction of her gaze, Roland reached into his belt and then his tunic, extracting two knives which he slung on to the table. “I’ll show you the rest of it,” he said, holding out a hand to her. Mindful of the dogs, she took it, and he drew her in the direction of a side door which revealed a winding staircase. He shut the door firmly behind them, which caused a few barks from the dogs who were shut on the other side of it. “Don’t want them tripping you and breaking your neck.”

  Eden frowned. “These steps are quite steep,” she admitted, navigating her way around the curving stairwell.

  “Not just that,” he told her, gripping her firmly by the elbow. “Just when you hit your stride you’ll find a trip step.”

  “A trip step?” Eden asked, looking back over her shoulder. Her foot hit the next step and she would have stumbled if he had not been there to support her.

  “You’ve just found one.”

  Eden looked down and found the step that had caught her out was of a different height and breadth to the others.

  “It’s a stumbling block for any strangers to the Keep.”

  “Intruders again?” Eden asked in exasperation.

  “You notice how the staircase runs clockwise?” he asked. “They’re all like that here. It’s so any invaders could not swing their swords.” He placed a palm against the grey stone. “Their blades would strike against these walls, while we defenders would have our right arms free to fight.”

  Eden looked down at him in surprise. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “Your uncle’s place, Hallam Hall was built as a country residence. This is a fortress.”

  “I see.”

  “Keep going, but cautiously. In five steps you’ll hit another trip step.”

  Eden did not object when he kept a firm grip. Her bade her to ignore the first door they encountered, for they were servant’s quarters. The second door, they passed through, emerging into another large grey stone chamber. This one had two large scarred wooden tables an assortment of benches and a floor scattered in stale, grubby rushes which had likely not been replaced in an age. The windows were mere slits which meant the room was dark and gloomy. Various shields were mounted on the walls which bore the scarlet field and black panther of the Vawdreys. They looked old and battered as though they had all seen service.

  Noticing the direction of her gaze, Roland pointed. “My father’s,” he said. “Oswald’s, and Mason’s.”

  Eden noticed that Mason’s shield was the plainest, with the same colors, but no heraldic animal, merely the slash of the bar sinister denoting his bastard status. It did not look like that anymore, she thought, now he bore a ducal title. He now had not one, but two beasts on his shield – the leopard of the Cadwalladers as well as the Vawdrey panther. Of course, their older brother, Oswald Vawdrey’s shield would not look like this either, she reflected, now he had been elevated to the role of Earl Vawdrey. His panther would wear a leafy coronet, where his father’s had been bare-headed. These must be relics from the civil war that had torn the country apart some years ago. She turned back to Roland. “Why is your shield not hung here?”

  “I did not fight in the war. Was just a boy.” He crossed the room and flung open another door. “Through here.”

  “But you have been a knight now for several years,” Eden pointed out, walking toward him. “Why do you not hang your first shield?”

  “I’m still using it,” he said shortly.

  Noticing his reluctance, Eden let the subject drop, though she was sure he must have got through several shields already, if they were usually as battered in tournament as she had witnessed.

  Passing through the door she found herself in another large chamber. This one was dominated by a large fireplace full of ash and soot. There were no other furnishings, save a few scattered chairs of gloomy, dark wood. No tapestries or pictures were hung on the walls to break the monotony of the grey stone. There were no books or musical instruments to be seen. The only cushions were of a dirty grey and were squashed flat on the floor and covered in dog hair.

  Eden worked hard to maintain a neutral expression, while her heart plummeted into her slippered feet. Our estate, Roland had said, which had been generous considering the way she had been foisted on him. She didn’t want to be ungrateful. As a Montmayne she had only ever been a poor relation, a dependent. Yet here, at Vawdrey Keep, she would be mistress, which would be a new experience indeed. She could not deny however, the heavy pang of home sickness she felt for the mellow brick of Hallam Hall, or the comforts of life at court. “It’s a fine big hearth,” she said aloud.

  “You should see it with a roaring blaze in it,” recommended Roland. She just about bit her lip to stop herself from commenting that no-one had apparently cleaned up after the last one. “Come, I will show you the next floor with the bedchambers.”

 
“I don’t understand,” said Eden as they returned to the staircase. “Where are the kitchens?”

  “Below the disarming room,” he explained. “There are steps that lead down. I did not bother to show you the pantry or the buttery. You’re mistress here after all, not servant.”

  Eden pondered this. “I see. But surely Fulco cannot be the only staff here?”

  “There used to be others,” Roland said vaguely. “I’m not sure how many remain.” He held his hand out to her and she took it, following him back out to the winding stairs. They climbed upwards once again. “Watch this step,” he said.

  “How is it that Vawdrey Keep passed to you, the youngest son?” she asked curiously.

  “I’m the only one that has any affection for the old place,” he replied after a slight pause. “Oswald has no desire to live here. Too far from court. And Mason gained an estate through his wife. Though,” he added with a shrug. “I suppose he could not have inherited it by right. My Father never married his mother.” The next door up opened into a small passageway with several doors off it. “This will be ours,” Roland said leading her into a large bedchamber furnished only with a large carved bedstead and a rather battered looking trunk. He exclaimed in annoyance.

  “What is it?” asked Eden, before noticing that the bed wore no mattress, blankets or quilts. “Oh, well, likely we can have it made up before night falls.”

  He shot an irritated look at her, and the unwelcome thought occurred that he might have had more immediate plans for it. He crossed the room and inspected it, looking underneath the bed and then lifting the lid of the trunk. Eden stayed by the door in case he got any ideas about lying her down on the bare ropes slung across the bedstead. Or worse still, he found some old dog blanket which he expected her to lie on. “Let’s check the other rooms,” he grunted at last, seeming to give up. They went back out to the corridor and into another bedchamber, which was still decent sized though rather smaller. There was a large box cupboard in the far corner which Roland crossed to, while she went across to the window to look out at the valley below. It was a great view, she conceded, from atop the Vawdrey’s hill. There was a bird’s eye view of the green forest they had ridden through that morning. Looking back over her shoulder, she found Roland flinging the doors open to the cupboard. To her surprise there was a good-sized bed inside it, with a mattress, though the blankets looked sparse and she could see no pillows.

  “How curious,” she said, moving closer. “I’ve never seen a bed inside a box like that.”

  “It’s Oswald’s old bed,” said Roland disparagingly. “He always was a secretive bastard.”

  Peering inside, Eden thought she could see a pile of books in the far corner, though it was hard to make out without a candle.

  “Forget it, I’m not sleeping in there,” said Roland. “You can’t see your hand in front of your face it’s so dark.”

  “But why should you need to, when you are sleeping,” Eden asked him irritably.

  Again, he cast another look at her. “I mean to see what I’m doing.”

  Eden flushed, could he think of nothing but his conjugal rights, she thought crossly. It was ridiculous!

  “Come,” he said. “There’s always my old room.” He led her to a third smaller bedroom which had only a pallet bed low to the ground. “Damn, I had forgotten,” he muttered. “Just how small my old bed is.”

  “When were you last home?” asked Eden, trying to distract herself from the thought of having to sleep on such a narrow cot with Roland Vawdrey. Why, she’d have to lie fully on top of him! She felt her chest swell at the indignity of marital relations. Why had no-one warned her how it would be? No wonder so many women took themselves off to a nunnery! The fact he was so handsome somehow made it ten times worse!

  He leaned down, pressing on the thin mattress. “The dogs have been sleeping on this,” he said with displeasure, ignoring her question. “We can’t sleep here.”

  Thanking the heavens for small mercies, Eden followed him back out into the passageway. “What’s on the top floor?” she asked.

  “Naught but the attics. Although,” he broke off, brightening up. “Mason’s old room is up there. Wait here.” He bounded up the last flight of stairs, while Eden wondered if she would be allowed her own bedchamber, once he had tired of her. If so, she would surely choose Oswald’s old room which undoubtedly had the best view. She wandered back into the largest bedchamber again, to look out of that window. But this window faced the mountains and the aspect was not half as picturesque. She heard Roland’s footsteps and hurried back out to meet him. She did not want him to think she was poking and prying around his home.

  “A straw mattress, would you believe,” he said with disgust. “Half eaten by mice.”

  “Oh dear,” said Eden, without much conviction.

  He glowered at her. “We’ll just have to use Oswald’s until we get a new mattress.”

  “Can we have it aired before tonight?” Eden asked, wondering when the last time was that it would have been slept on.

  “At least being in a cupboard means the dogs couldn’t get on it,” he murmured, opening the door to the staircase. “Mind your step. Put a hand to my shoulder.” Eden followed closely behind him, lifting her skirts with one hand, so she should not trip and placing the other on his muscular shoulder. He warned her each time they were approaching a trip-step and she marveled at how quickly she had heard him run up to the attic. Even with this cautious approach, she felt herself stumble at least twice, and was grateful to have Roland’s back to brace against, preventing her from falling headlong down the steep stone steps. She only breathed easy again when they emerged once more from the staircase into the disarming room, although two of the dogs still stood guard in there and immediately glued themselves to Roland’s heels. He glanced back at her uncertainly. “I’m going down to see if I can find Fulco.”

  “I’m not staying here on my own,” Eden found herself retorting. “Castor could return at any point and resume hostilities!”

  He laughed. “He’ll be outside now very likely, or with Fulco.” He reached down and fondled the ears of the brown-haired dog she thought was called Hector. The other dog was black and white and she had no idea of his name. Without Castor around they seemed determined to ignore her. Well, that was fine with Eden. “Follow me down then,” said Roland. “But stay close and mind your footing.”

  Eden followed his directions and found herself in a large kitchen and scullery area with two big fireplaces, a number of cavernous cooking pots and two large spits for roasting meats. A vast table stood in the center, covered in pots and pans. Not a soul was in sight, but the kitchen at least looked lived in. There was no dust or soot lying around and the floors were swept clean. Roland strode across the floor and opened another door leading into a vast store room which Eden guessed was the pantry. “No-one,” he huffed, shutting the door again. “Where the devil is everyone?”

  Eden pointed to a large bowl of eggs. “Someone collected these,” she said. “And very likely this morning.” The black and white dog, jumped up, setting his two paws on the table to sniff for any meat.

  “Down, Seth!” Roland roared, and the dog complied, looking a little sheepish.

  Seth, thought Eden. Castor, Parnell, Hector and Seth. That just left two she did not know the names of. The ginger dog who looked like an overgrown fox and the grey one who looked rather like a gargoyle.

  Just then they heard footsteps on the stairs and both turned to look as Cuthbert sauntered down the steps. “I’m half starved, anything worth eating?” he greeted them.

  Roland shrugged. “There’s eggs, if nothing else. Where’s Fulco?”

  “He showed me the stables and disappeared.”

  “Damn,” swore Roland. “I’d better go in search of him. Will you stay here with Cuthbert?”

  Eden frowned at him. “If that’s what you want,” she said sounding annoyed. Why did he keep trying to shake her off? A smile seemed to tug at his lips
a moment, and she wished she had not said it. He was conceited enough to think she craved his company, and she had not meant to give that impression in the slightest.

  “I only mean to get a fire lit and make things comfortable for you as soon as possible,” he explained. “I can do that quicker by myself.”

  “Of course,” she said stiffly, folding her arms across her chest.

  He hesitated and then came right up to her, tipping her face up to his with his fingertips and brushing a kiss against her lips. “I won’t be long,” he said in a low, intimate voice. “Cuthbert can get you some refreshment in the meantime.”

  “As long as it’s eggs,” she said waspishly, to hide her flustered state. He pinched her chin, but made no further comment. Emitting a sharp whistle, he ran up the stairs with Hector following him close on his heels.

  “Don’t worry,” said Cuthbert who was cheerfully clattering around with the pots. “I learnt how to make a tasty posset for my lady Linnet, with egg and nutmeg. Roland will be back before you know it.”

  Eden sniffed. “I am not remotely concerned about his return,” she said, then spoiled it entirely by adding. “I only hope he does not break his neck on those steps.”

  “He may seem like a great, clumsy oaf,” said Cuthbert sanguinely. “But he’s actually pretty light on his feet.”

  Eden pulled out a wooden chair and sat on it, drawing her cloak in close around her body. She still wore her mittens too, for it was chilly in the Keep. “It’s a good thing you gave me these gifts, or I would likely soon perish here,” she commented as Cuthbert broke four eggs and niftily separated the whites from the yolks using the shells. He set the yolks aside and beat the whites.

  He nodded thoughtfully. “There is that,” he said, and humming a tune, made his way over to the fireplace. He made a few passes with his hand and she heard almost instantly the crackle and flare of a fire.

  “That was fast!” she said, startled.

  “It wasn’t really out, just damped down,” Cuthbert said modestly. He set a pot of water over the blaze before rising from his knees and making for the pantry. He reappeared carrying a large stone jug and a pot, which he took straight over to the heating water.