XXIX
It was crowded in the King’s levee which was held in the gallery off his private chambers. Luckily for Mason’s sake, amongst the officials and diplomats mingled a few liege lords, who had lately risen to prominence through battle like himself. They greeted him warily as though expecting that he was there to warmonger or urge further campaigns on the King’s behalf. More than one reminded him the kingdom was now at peace, much to Mason’s irritation.
“You need to stop glaring at everyone,” hinted Oswald. “They think you’re spoiling for a fight.”
Mason glowered, his eyes scanning once again for the King. “Where is he?”
“Patience,” murmured Oswald. “Let us make pleasant conversation for a while.” He tugged his brother towards Lord Schaeffer, who was stroking his grey moustache and speaking in low tones to another nobleman.
“Lord Schaeffer, well met!” Oswald hailed him. “I believe you are acquainted with my brother, Sir Mason Vawdrey.”
Lord Schaeffer’s eyes bugged a little. “Oh—er—yes, of course, of course,” he blustered. “Didn’t realize you’d bring your . . . er . . . brother,” he added lamely.
Mason nodded his head in his closest approximation of a courtly bow. “Your servant,” he muttered insincerely.
Lord Schaeffer turned reluctantly to his companion who had cold, shrewd eyes, despite his frivolous silver robes. “This is Viscount Bardulf of the Western isles. He is part of the Queen’s retinue.”
“Good day,” drawled Viscount Bardulf. “Of course, we’ve met before.” He flicked an invisible fleck from his puffed silk sleeve.
Mason shot him a startled look. “I doubt it.”
“At Demoyne,” explained Bardulf, looking amused. “I’d recognize you anywhere, Sir Mason. Even when you’re not covered in mud. And blood,” he added thoughtfully.
“You were at Demoyne?” asked Lord Schaeffer, sounding astonished.
Mason couldn’t blame him. It was hard to imagine this polished courtier in a siege situation.
“Oh yes. I was in the first wave,” smirked Bardulf. He drew a finger delicately over his throat.
Assassin, thought Mason. That made more sense.
Schaeffer, who had not seen the discreet gesture, continued to look disbelieving. “Wouldn’t have thought that was your sort of thing at all, dear sir.”
“Oh, it wasn’t,” shuddered Bardulf dramatically. “Walking around, with the fear one might be stabbed in the back at any time.”
“So different to life at court,” answered Oswald blandly.
Bardulf laughed. “As you say.”
Lord Schaeffer, who clearly could not see the joke, cleared his throat, looking round a little wildly as if for an escape.
“And how is the investigation going into my brother’s matter?” asked Oswald, swiftly changing the subject.
Lord Schaeffer cleared his throat. “Slowly but steadily,” he replied cautiously. “These things take time.” He shook his head. “They can’t be rushed, my boy.”
“Quite the contrary!” disagreed Viscount Bardulf unexpectedly. “Everyone here at court has been sifting the evidence most thoroughly!”
Lord Schaeffer’s eyes popped. “What?”
“But yes!” He looked across at Mason. “We have been jumping to conclusions all over the place!”
Lord Schaeffer pursed his lips in disapproval. “Idle gossip!” he snorted. “Is not evidence!”
Viscount Bardulf ignored him, leaning into the Vawdrey brothers. “Are you aware,” he asked in low voice. “That the Queen holds her levee at the same time as the King?”
“No, I was not,” admitted Mason with a frown.
“And afterward, the attendants at both levees—they mingle in the throne room for refreshment.”
“Are you saying,” interpreted Oswald politely. “That someone we know is attending the Queen’s levee this morning?”
Bardulf’s lips quirked into a smile. “But yes! The celebrity of the hour herself!”
“Linnet,” muttered Mason on an exhale.
XXX
Linnet had shivered in her thin, silk dress all morning. The Queen’s levee was held in a large square room thronged with large draughty windows. One of the windows had an external staircase leading down a formal garden which Linnet would have liked to have explored, but a footman stood with a tray of drinks barring access to it. Plus, she probably would have frozen out of doors. It seemed colder here though the sky was blue. She had felt the Queen’s gaze on her at several points but other than approaching the dais to curtsy when her name was announced, she had not been summoned into the royal presence.
Lady Doverdale was talking to another elderly matron and Lady Martindale could only stammer one or two word answers to any conversation Linnet tried to instigate. She gave up on that and turned instead to gaze at the Queen in her shimmery, green gown embellished all over with silver leaves. Linnet was not really sure if Queen Armenal actually was beautiful, or if it was just that she held herself and displayed herself with the confidence of a beautiful woman. She had never seen anyone with so much self-assurance. It seemed to drip from her every gesture. She was tall and dark with olive skin and looked to be between twenty-five and thirty years old though she could be older. It was hard to determine. Sophisticated. That was the word to describe the Queen, Linnet decided. She was the most sophisticated woman she had ever seen. At that moment the Queen looked up and their gazes met. The Queen smiled and Linnet flushed. Then she turned to one of the footman and the next moment Linnet found him hurrying across the crowded room towards her.
“Lady Linnet,” said the footman. “Queen Armenal would like for you to accompany her into the throne room for refreshment.”
Linnet curtsied towards the dais. “I would be most happy.”
“Please follow me.”
Linnet glanced towards Lady Martindale. “Please inform Lady Doverdale that I am waiting on the Queen.”
Lady Martindale squeaked into her handkerchief which Linnet guessed was an assent.
On legs that slightly shook she approached the dais and was only halfway there when the crowd parted before her and the Queen swept forward and took her arm.
“Let us walk together, Lady Linnet,” she said in a lilting voice with the merest trace of an accent. “I hear you are very fond of walking, so we will take the long way around to the throne room. That is agreeable to you, yes?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
The Queen had a train of some twelve fluttering beauties in jewel-colored dresses following in her wake. They rustled and giggled behind her. The Queen ignored them.
“Me, I am very pleased to meet you,” said the Queen, opening her brown eyes very wide. “I am curious to meet the woman brave enough to tame the Vawdrey bastard.”
In the background, someone tittered lightly, but Linnet did not turn her head to see who. Instead she kept her eyes on the Queen, inclining her head politely. Mason showed no shame about his illegitimacy so she did not see why she should either. She could sense this dark-eyed Queen was watching her closely despite her languid pose.
“You must not mind these silly whores,” the Queen continued. “When I am established in my proper court, my ladies in waiting will be of a different caliber altogether. These women,” she said dispassionately gazing over her shoulder. “Were all chosen for me, by men.”
Linnet tried not to show how taken aback she was, but she had a feeling it showed anyway.
“May I be frank?” asked the Queen, turning back to her.
Linnet felt her heart sink slightly. “Please do, your highness” she forced herself to say.
“These Vawdreys, they are terrifying are they not? When first I saw them, I thought they must be northerners.”
“They are certainly dark, your majesty,” said Linnet, struggling how to answer her. “And tall.”
“If it were not for the war, I do not think they would have risen to prominence,” commented the Queen. “Baron Vawdr
ey does not have the temperament or manners to be a courtier and Sir Mason is the most like him of his offspring, even though he is from the wrong side of the bed. Yes? Only Oswald fits in at court. He will rise to prominence I think, that one. Yes, I will watch him closely. He is the wolf in the clothing of the sheep. Very clever. You have heard of their reputations, have you not?”
Linnet thought fleetingly of Sir Chilton’s unguarded words in the tavern. She only knew that Mason had a reputation. Little else. And was Oswald really so cunning? She had always thought him smart, but . . .
“Do you mean at war, Queen Armenal? I had heard that my husband won his fame in the King’s northern campaigns.”
“Oh they are fierce in battle, these Vawdreys!” tutted the Queen. “Sir Mason acted as general for the King at the siege of Demoyne. He took the city in three weeks when they predicted three months.”
Linnet’s eyebrows rose. “I had heard something to that effect, Your Majesty,” she admitted. Though according to Sir Chilton it had taken a mere three days! Such was the nature of rumour! They had reached the throne room now, but Queen Armenal did not release her arm. The footmen opened the door and they sailed through the doors into the already busy room. Linnet blinked. More people! Her gaze came to a startled halt on a tall dark figure at the right of the room. Mason! Her heart thudded. She felt suddenly flushed and breathless at the sight of him. Queen Armenal headed unerringly towards the canopy at the head of the room. Sure enough, Linnet found herself heading up the red carpeted steps until the King and Queen’s thrones sat before her. The Queen gestured to a row of cushioned seats sat on a lower dais for attendants. The ladies-in-waiting were already plumping themselves down on the twelve matching chairs.
Armenal arranged herself on her throne, but, noticing Linnet hovering, she gazed at her ladies coldly. “One of you must give up your chair as I wish to speak to the Lady Linnet.”
The nearest one pouted and slid from her seat, which Linnet took with an apologetic glance. She couldn’t help but crane over her shoulder to get another look at Mason. He wasn’t hard to find, for in truth he stuck out like a sore thumb at court. Like a wildcat amongst all the tame, plump pigeons. She could see that now. The Queen was quite right. She did a double take as the displaced lady-in-waiting made a sign of protection while she looked at Mason.
“Elise!” snapped the Queen, rapping her knuckles against the hard wood seat. “Come here!” The female reddened and came towards them with a swift curtsy. “If you must ward off the evil spirits when you see the King’s champion maybe you should try and do it with more subtlety,” she suggested sweetly.
“Your pardon, Your Majesty.”
“And now you must ask the Lady Vawdrey for forgiveness, Elise.”
The girl’s fingers twitched as if even the mention of the name Vawdrey called for the symbol of the evil eye. “Your forgiveness, my lady,” she muttered, not quite meeting Linnet’s eyes.
“Be on your way, simpleton,” the Queen’s lip curled. “You must excuse Elise. She’s listened to too much gossip.” Linnet watched as the girl scurried away, her face flaming. “The King would be very angry if he realized these stories still persist.” The Queen sighed and shot a look at Linnet.
Suddenly Linnet realized Armenal was dying to tell her the rumors around her husband’s family. Contrarily, she vowed not to ask. “People can be so superstitious and ignorant,” she said instead, rather boldly.
A small amused smile curved the Queen’s lips. “I find you quite refreshing, Lady Linnet” she said. “But you are not so sure if you like this strange western Queen,” she laughed.
“You must excuse me,” said Linnet. “I am in all of a whirl. I hardly know how I feel about anything presently.”
“You are the heroine of the hour,” nodded the Queen. “But yes it’s true,” she argued when Linnet demurred. “Before your arrival, everyone was whispering about Sir Mason’s new bride. The poor little invalid who was dragged from her sickbed to marry the warlord. It is very romantic, is it not?”
It occurred to Linnet that her idea of romance and Queen Armenal’s must be very different. She glanced across the hall and found Mason’s gaze trained straight on her and colored slightly.
“He is very intense is he not?” commented the Queen slyly. “I think he must have been in love with you even on your wedding day.”
Linnet’s eyes widened with surprise. Even as she opened her mouth to deny it, the Queen forestalled her.
“You are too reserved to confide in me, I know.” She raised a hand as Linnet protested. “I understand. You are probably wise. The walls have ears here.” She smiled as Linnet’s eyes swept the busy hall. “But still, it is very romantic. Far more romantic than a marriage of convenience with the baby Vawdrey! You would not be so well suited, I do not think.”
The Queen signaled to a waiting page who brought forward a tray of wine. They both took a goblet, and the page retreated.
“I have never met Sir Roland Vawdrey,” admitted Linnet.
“Never met? But this must be remedied,” murmured the Queen as she raised the cup to her lips. Linnet didn’t particularly want to meet Roland, but she supposed there was no getting out of it. He was her brother-in-law after all. The Queen languidly raised a hand and another footman scooted close. She murmured something. The footman retreated but then the Queen recalled him.
“But not those execrable Jevonses!” she added warningly. “They will not be admitted.”
Linnet’s eyes widened. She turned to the lady-in-waiting next to her. “Did the Queen just send for Sir Roland Vawdrey?” she whispered.
The lady-in-waiting merely fluttered her eyelashes and giggled. Linnet turned back to the Queen in exasperation. Queen Armenal gave a shrug which seemed to say, “You see what I mean?”
XXXI
Mason’s whole body felt tense and on edge, like he was fighting his own instinct, which told him to march right over to Linnet now and claim his wife back. Probably because he was.
Oswald grabbed his arm. “The King’s just indicated we can approach,” he murmured. The King had now taken his place on the dais on the chair next to his Queen. Wymer was fair-haired like his royal standard, the golden lion. He had very blue eyes set in a surprisingly tanned face. Right at this moment, Mason felt like punching him in it.
“Do try and reign in the aura of battle, Brother,” sighed Oswald. “You’ll make the King defensive.”
Mason clenched his jaw. “Right,” he muttered grimly. Then he saw his youngest brother enter from stage left and nearly missed his footing. “Roland’s here,” he hissed.
His brother looked irritable and like he had been dragged from his bed. When someone tried to clap Roland on the shoulder, he crossly shrugged them off.
“Steady, Mason,” cautioned Oswald, his head swiveling round. “Roland approaches the Queen. Focus on Wymer.”
Mason expelled a breath.
“This is not going to be easy,” muttered Oswald in the understatement of the century. “But you need to keep your temper.”
As they drew closer, Mason realized that Queen Armenal had leaned over and was talking to the King. He was frowning doubtfully but she seemed quite insistent. Finally, Wymer threw his arms up in the air. “Oh very well,” he pronounced irritably. “If that is what you wish.”
Queen Armenal sat back in her own seat with a triumphant smile.
“Your Majesty,” they hailed him as he approached.
So focused had Mason been on Linnet that he had scarcely noticed the fact that the rest of the occupants of the throne room had fallen into a deathly hush. Everyone was turned to face the Vawdreys and craning to listen to what was being said. Not a single person was even making a pretense of having their own conversation. Grimly, Mason resigned himself to the fact that whatever was going to transpire was going to be in front of a very packed house. Linnet’s slightly panicked gaze met his, then she turned away.
“Should not Sir Jevons be present?” asked the King
peevishly. The suggestion seemed to fill even him with displeasure.
The slightest spasm passed over the Queen’s face. “I am sure that the good Lord Schaeffer has a written account of their complaint.”
She smiled cloyingly at the elderly lord who immediately turned to a footman and began instructing him where to find the relevant papers.
“I have had a very long interview with both Sir and Lady Jevons,” said Schaeffer heavily. He wiped his brow. “I was most thorough in recording the details.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” said the King drily. “In that case, I see no reason to summon them in this instance.”
The Queen stood up, looking like the cat who’d got the cream. “It is my proposal that we take this opportunity to settle this matter of the proposed dissolvent of Sir Mason Vawdrey and Lady Linnet Cadwallader’s marriage.”
Lord Schaeffer approached the throne looking very flushed and harried, carrying a sheaf of paperwork which he tried to hand to the King. He waved it towards the Queen who took it and then placed it on her chair unread.
She turned out towards wards everyone again. “His gracious Majesty the King has granted me this boon and agreed to let me preside over this decision.”
King Wymer nodded in agreement and stared thoughtfully at the back of the room. Mason inwardly seethed. He could not quite believe that his marriage was being used as a source of entertainment for a lot of bored courtiers who had nothing better to do with their morning.
“It is my suggestion . . . ” said the Queen in a carrying voice.
And she should have been on the stage, he thought savagely.
“That this ruling is made after I ask one question,” she held up one slender finger, “of Sir Mason Vawdrey.” A loud murmuring rose from the crowd.
“One question!” spluttered Lord Schaeffer. “This is highly irregular.”
“Silence!” shouted the King.
Everyone hushed.
“One question,” confirmed the Queen smoothly. She smiled serenely at the crowd as if expecting them to applaud.
Her Baseborn Bridegroom (Vawdrey Brothers Book 1) Page 22
