“Sleep a while,” he murmured. “I won’t let you sleep too long.”
“Lenora returns at ten, don’t forget,” she said and yawned.
**
It was only half an hour later that Roland heard the door to their apartments open. He tensed immediately, and Eden grumbled into his shoulder. The dogs however, did not bark, and he recognized his brother’s low tones. Shit. A sharp rap on the door startled them both. “What do you want?” yelled out Roland, bad-naturedly.
“It’s me,” said Mason’s deep voice. “Come out and have a drink with us.”
Eden gasped and clung to him, so he stroked his hand down her side. “Shhh, it’s fine, love,” he assured her.
They dressed hurriedly, speaking in snatched whispers. He helped her back into her dress and craned his head toward her as she told him in murmurs that she had felt very low after receiving her cousin’s trunkful of clothes. How she had feared that all was lost between her and Lenora but now it seemed they had made it up and everything was resolved. He frowned over her reading of the gift of clothes from her cousin. It seemed to him that she had put the worst interpretation possible on it, but he hesitated before saying anything to put her out. It seemed to him, that he was growing damned tactful as a husband. “Well,” he said, “that’s good all is resolved betwixt the two of you, in any event.” She also repeated the fact her grandmother, who had instigated this whole hearing mess, was heading back home, something Roland had not really absorbed earlier. This news he also managed to accept without an explosion of righteous wrath, but when he stepped back to survey Eden he suffered a set-back to his new equanimity. “You can’t go out looking like that,” he scowled.
“What do you mean?” Eden frowned, turning to look at him. She patted the pink gown she had just hurriedly donned, clearly thinking she looked perfectly respectable.
Roland snorted. “They’re not seeing you like that, Eden. Only I get to see you like that.”
Her hands flew to her hair. “Do I look untidy?”
“Untidy is not the word,” he said dryly.
“What is then?” she asked.
“Tumbled,” he answered with great restraint.
“Tumbled?” She turned to arch a brow at him. “Does that mean what I think it means?” He smirked. “Disgraceful,” she said lightly, and smiled. He felt her smile right down to his bones. “You must have a comb somewhere hereabouts,” she said. “Do you remember,” she added with a hint of shyness. “How I borrowed your comb at-” But he had rounded the bed and pulled her firmly into his arms again. “Roland?” This time when he kissed her, he was gentle, but unhurried. When he finally lifted his lips from hers, she sighed. “That was a good kiss,” she said, and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “A very good kiss.”
“Good is not the word,” he said gruffly. “Besides, all kisses with you are good.” It was nothing more than the truth. She smiled again at that, completely unaware that he never said things like this. Never even thought them. Then again, Eden Montmayne wasn’t exactly famous for her smiles. Yet, here they were. Him spouting sweet words, and her smiling.
If anyone thought they were taking her from him, they were vastly mistaken. There was no chance in hells he was giving her up. Not now, or ever. She was his and so she would remain. It would take more than a royal decree to alter that fact. He shied away from what this meant, and instead led her to the door of his room and dragging back the bolt.
She caught his arm before he opened the bedchamber door. “What will your brothers say?” she whispered, looking worried. “About my having been here tonight?”
“If they’ve any sense of self-preservation, they won’t say a damned thing,” he answered grimly, and swung the door open, taking her hand and led her out into the sitting room.
Oswald and Mason Vawdrey were both sat before the fire, and though their eyes widened at the sight of Eden, they wisely said nothing, except utter a polite greeting. She murmured back in kind and Roland led her to a chair set slightly back from the others. Then he kneeled at her feet and helped her on with her stockings and shoes. The dogs thrust their noses at her over the arms of the chair and she stroked their muzzles. “Does it distress you that your grandmother has left already?” he asked, as it suddenly occurred to him. He kept his voice low, reluctant to have his brothers overhear their private conversation, but no doubt the bastards could hear every word.
“Not as much as it ought to,” she admitted, pulling a face. “She’s seldom at court, and I’m used to only seeing her when I’m at Hallam Hall which is not above twice a year these days.” She hesitated. “It does make me happy that she cared enough about me to cause all this fuss,” she confided in a rush. “Even though it has caused you and your family a good deal of inconvenience-”
“Eden,” he interrupted her. “When all this is over and done with… then I’ll appreciate it too. I just can’t right now, that’s all. We’ll invite her to Vawdrey Keep.” He winced. “When we’ve made it a bit more habitable.”
“What’s wrong with the Keep?” asked Eden defensively.
“Well for a start, there’s no mattresses in the guest bedchambers,” he pointed out dryly. Then his eye caught on a piece of paper on the floor, which he retrieved. The sloping hand was unfamiliar to him, and he stared at it in bewilderment for a moment or two.
Eden looked up from where she was fussing Castor. “Oh, I think that’s mine,” she said. “I must have slipped it into my sleeve cuff to finish reading it later.”
“Yours?” Roland lowered the letter with a heavy frown. “Who wrote this to you?” he asked with a sudden deadly calm.
“Mr Edwin Childers,” responded Eden readily enough.
“Childers? Who is he? What the hell does he mean by addressing you as ‘Mistress, whose every word, leads my heart to throb inside my breast’?”
Eden gave a startled laugh. “He’s not addressing me.” Her expression turned grave, seeing he was not amused. “He’s a poet. That is merely three verses of his epic poem he has revised.”
Her guiltless manner calmed him a little, but still he returned to the piece of paper with displeasure. “Tell him to write his poem on a separate damn page next time,” he said. “I don’t appreciate such sentiments being scribbled in the body of a letter sent to my wife.”
Eden straightened up at this, looking serious. After a moment’s heavy pause, she nodded. “I will.”
“I understand that this stuff is important to you Eden,” he said gravely. “But there need to be rules. I can’t have men accosting you in corridors and writing you love notes. I’ll end up killing someone.”
“What sort of rules?” she asked warily. “Is this about a private correspondence or attending poetry meets?”
“You can continue to do both,” he said, with extreme trust and generosity if he did say so himself. “But I need your word you’ll tell me if anyone oversteps any boundaries.”
She breathed out. “Very well,” she said.
“Very well, what?”
Eden looked disconcerted. “Very well, I promise?” she ventured uncertainly.
“Very well, husband,” he stressed.
Eden opened and closed her mouth on a no doubt tart reply. “Very well husband,” she said meekly, surprising them both.
Roland turned his head sharply, when he heard what sounded like a stifled chuckle from the vicinity of the fireplace. Both his brothers swivelled hastily back to face the fire. He returned to Eden, who was seemingly oblivious to their avid audience.
Hesitantly she reached out and took one of his hands in hers. “Thank you,” she said, robbing him of all breath. “For understanding when something’s important to me.” He looked down at their clasped hands a moment, before taking a deep breath. “Of course,” he said, wishing devoutly his bloody brothers weren’t drinking in their exchange. He twisted his hand and interlaced their fingers. “This time tomorrow night,” he said. “All this foolishness will be over, and we can get on with
our lives. Our married lives,” he stressed, leaving no room for her to get the wrong impression. “Together.”
She nodded, and a light knock was heard on the door. The dogs both bounced up, but he managed to clamp Castor’s collar. “Quiet boy!” Her cousin had arrived for her. Already.
**
“So, it is true then, that you nearly strangled some poet this afternoon?” commented Mason as Roland closed the door after seeing Eden and Parnell off.
“Eh?”
“Cuthbert heard it from one of the pages.”
“Come and sit with us,” directed Oswald, gesturing to a chair.
“Where is Cuthbert?” asked Roland, dragging a chair toward the fire. He slumped down in it feeling heavy of heart. When Oswald went to pour him some wine, he waved it away. “I want a clear head on the morrow.”
“One cup won’t fog your head,” Mason pointed out. “Unless you’re Oswald.” Roland just shook his head. “Cuthbert’s out making merry with the other squires,” added Mason. “No doubt fleecing them out of their pennies at cards or dice.”
“And telling them salacious gossip,” added Oswald. “You and Eden really are doing the current rounds at court. He will be dining out freely on that tale for many a week.” He replenished Mason’s goblet of wine, and poured himself and Roland water.
Roland shrugged, unconcerned. Castor came and lay at his feet.
“That dog recognizes you as his master,” said Mason. “He’s not looking for Father anymore. How is all at the Keep?”
“Baxter’s mad as ever. Fulco’s mother’s means to keep him unwed. We’ve a new maid from the village, named Brigid. I need to buy...” he waved a hand vaguely. “Hangings and draperies and such.”
A heavy silence greeted his words, looking up, Roland saw his brothers regarding each other with raised brows. “What?” he asked.
“Did our little brother first list people above possessions?” asked Oswald.
“Did he just bring up the subject of Fulco and his lack of a wife?” chimed in Mason.
“Did he just mention curtains?”
“Fuck off the both of you,” said Roland without heat. He took a sip of water. “All is fine, but I need to spruce up the place now I’ve a wife to keep happy.”
“I’m very pleased to hear it,” said Oswald. “I knew you were the man for the job.”
“I never would have thought Eden Montmayne was the woman for it, though,” admitted Mason.
Roland found himself bristling.
“I disagree,” said Oswald. “Though I do wonder…” he turned to Roland. “Has it ever crossed your mind, little brother, that Eden looks set to become a very formidable female indeed, once she’s had a few years to adjust,” he added thoughtfully. “From the role of poor relation.”
Roland frowned cleared. “Oh aye,” he agreed absently. “You should have seen how she ripped into the wife of that Lelland fellow at Tranton Vale. Reduced her to tears. Not,” he added. “That she didn’t deserve it.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” murmured Oswald.
“You sound almost proud of it!” Mason observed, swigging his wine.
“So what if I am?” demanded Roland. “A man wants a wife who can hold her own, and defend his corner.”
“Very true,” agreed Oswald hastily. “And after all, our father always wanted you to marry a woman of character.”
“Did he?” asked Roland with a flicker of interest. “First I’ve heard of it. He always told me he judged a wench by the broadness of their hips.”
“It’s true he came to wisdom lamentably late in life,” sighed Oswald. “But he did achieve it in the end.”
“I predict your marriage will have never a dull moment, brother,” said Mason with a wry smile.
“Well it hasn’t so far,” agreed Roland. “But if you mean I’ll lead her a merry dance, you’re quite wrong.” He glowered at his brothers who were watching him with interest. “For I mean to be a very good sort of husband.”
“Do you?” asked Oswald. “Well, that’s an excellent start.”
“You don’t need to tell me that,” said Roland. “I’m already far and away ahead of the both of you in that respect.”
“How so?” frowned Mason, plunking down his cup.
“Well,” expanded Roland. “You intended to saddle Linnet with a couple of brats and carry on much the same as always. And as for you,” he said turning to Oswald. “You meant to send Fen into the country and forget you even had a wife!” Both his brothers stiffened. “It took you both a couple of months at least before you realized you wanted to keep them by your side.”
“At least we never nearly married the wrong one!” pointed out Mason defensively.
Now it was Roland’s turn to look pained, but Oswald gave a small cough. “No, no, he’s quite right. He adapted a lot faster to wedded life than we.” He regarded Roland curiously. “How long did it take incidentally? Before you were reconciled?”
“Soon as I woke up, of course, and found her in my bed,” replied Roland smugly. “Turns out I’m a lot smarter than we all thought.”
**
Eden had never felt so on display, as when she walked into the audience chamber the next morning, her head held high and her back straight. She had performed music, sung and recited and even danced for a viewing audience and felt less conspicuous, than she did now. Every head turned her way and a loud whispering rose up to the rafters, increasing in volume. The Queen was directly ahead of her, dressed in a gown of glittering emerald green. But it was not Queen Armenal that everyone stared at, it was Eden. She wore Lenora’s most dazzling betrothal dress of gold, festooned with pink roses. It was a ridiculous confection of a gown, but strange to say, Eden recognized she looked well in it. Lenora’s maidservant Hannah had been sent along to dress her hair, so it had been like old times. Instead of her customary hairstyle, Eden had instead requested the same arrangement she had worn at Tranton Vale, with a section of her long black hair left loose down her back, and only the front part taken up and braided into a coronet. Then, she had a gauzy gold veil attached to the back of the braided section to flutter at her middle back. Looking at herself in the glass that morning, although she had felt sick with nerves, she had thought, I am too young to wear black. It is right there should be color in my life.
As she marched after Armenal now, she caught Lenora’s eye in the front row. Her cousin clapped her hands together in delight to see her wearing the gold dress. Eden permitted herself a small smile of welcome at Lenora, ignored her uncles, and allowed the page to discreetly direct her to a seat at the front. The Queen mounted the steps to the dais to join King Wymer, who already sat in his throne, looking rather impatient to get proceedings started. Eden kept staring straight ahead, though of course, her heart thudded against her ribs and all she really wanted to do was scan the crowd in search of Roland.
“Well, well,” said the King raising his voice, and beckoning to a plump scribe who hurried over. He turned to Queen Armenal and they exchanged a few words. He gave a short nod.
“We are pleased to have arrived at this third and final day in deliberations over the marriage of Sir Roland Vawdrey and Lady Eden Montmayne,” he said loudly. “We have now heard several statements from witnesses and parties involved. My consort, Queen Armenal will now sum up our findings.
The Queen nodded portentously as she waited for the buzz of conversation to die down. “It is undeniable,” she began sternly. “That this marriage did circumvent the proper order here at court, where both parties occupied prominent positions. The correct applications to our royal personages were not made. I was deprived of a most valuable lady-in-waiting. The King was deprived of his champion. Such behavior is not to be tolerated. It could even be argued that such a hasty marriage constituted conduct unbecoming in a courtier, setting an undesirable tone for our court.” She let these serious words sink in, her gaze taking in the multitude of courtiers who had gathered to hear the judgement. “My feeling is that the Montmaynes did ob
fuscate the matter of which bride was requested, though whether that was done willfully or through genuine confusion is not so clear.” There was a loud murmuring at this and the King glared furiously at Eden’s uncles who immediately snapped their jaws shut. “It could therefore be justifiably claimed, that Sir Roland acted in frustration that night, finding himself pledged to the wrong Montmayne. The testimony of his two brothers, and Lenora Montmayne herself bear out his dissatisfaction for the way things played out at the betrothal feast.”
“Remember, my dear,” cut in the King peevishly. “That Vawdrey has already been punished, when I stripped him of his position as my champion.”
“That is true enough,” agreed Armenal looking thoughtful. “And there was no mention of a dowry being presented to him.” She looked to Sir Leofric for confirmation of this and he looked extremely uncomfortable before giving a quick shake of his head.
“I care naught for a dowry,” said Roland loudly, and Eden jumped to find him only a few seats away to her right.
“The withholding of one could be considered an additional punishment,” pointed out the King blandly.
The Queen clapped her hands. “Enough! I am decided,” she announced in ringing tones. “His highness the King has kindly agreed the sentence is mine to dispose in this instance, as it is I who have suffered the greatest injury.” Eden blinked at this, and did not dare look in Roland’s direction. “I have given this matter great thought, and having taken Lady Dorothea Montmayne’s complaint into consideration. I think the best way forward would be to suspend the match, for one calendar month. During this time, Sir Roland will think how best to woo the Lady Eden in a manner fitting for a chief lady in waiting to the Queen. If, at the end of this period, the lady accepts his suit, then they will receive our blessing in the royal chapel.”
An Ill-Made Match (Vawdrey Brothers Book 3) Page 33
