Her Bastard Bridegroom Page 22

  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 among 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 as 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 curtsey. “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 pauvre little invalid who was dragged from her sick-bed 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 du convenance with the bebe Vawdrey! You would not be so well-suited I do not think.” The queen signaled to a waiting page who bought forward a tray of wine. They both took a goblet and he 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 Jevons’!” 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 in a surprisingly tanned face. Right now Mason felt like punching him in it.

  “Do try and reign in the battle aura, 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’d been dragged from his bed. When someone tried to clap him on the shoulder, he irritably 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 facing them 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 dryly. “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 and carrying a sheaf of paperwork which he tried to hand to the King. He waved it toward the queen who took it and then placed it on her chair unread. She turned out toward 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 with 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.
/>   XXXII

  The whole morning was taking on the properties of a nightmare, thought Linnet with horror. She rubbed her naked ring finger and cast another furtive look at Mason who seemed to have turned to stone. Finally he nodded once as if to say he was ready. He had gone almost unnervingly still. Then suddenly she thought, perhaps this was what he was like before he went into battle? Her nervous gaze shot past him to a tense looking Oswald and then to Roland, the youngest brother. He was clearly a Vawdrey, tall and dark like his brothers but slender like Oswald rather than Macon’s powerful build. In truth, he looked younger than his twenty-two years, so maybe he would fill out later. Boyhood still seemed to cling to him. He looked sulky and out of sorts, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout of displeasure, his dark curly hair spilling forward onto his face. My gods. She had nearly been married to that moody looking boy! Well, even if they annulled her marriage, she thought, her stomach knotting up. She would not marry Roland Vawdrey! She would never marry anyone but Mason.

  The room was still eerily silent. Linnet turned back to the dais where the Queen had cast her eyes up to the painted ceiling as if for inspiration. It was gorgeously decorated with a scene of the heavens and was covered in clouds, stars and angels. Linnet held her breath as the queen spoke in a strangely chilling voice:

  “A choice lies before you Sir Mason. Two paths in a forked road. On the right hand path you can choose for your marriage to be annulled and the stain of your bastardy removed. You will be elevated to the most senior ranking commander in the King’s army and permitted to use unimpeded the sigil of the black Vawdrey panther.” A thrill of surprise ran through the hall. Queen Armenal waited patiently for the reaction to subside before continuing in a hard voice: “The left hand path is for your marriage to remain legal. But as a consequence you will lose the Cadwallader estate which will be confiscated by the Crown and the title Duke of Cadwallader will be rescinded.”

  Linnet gasped. Her feet suddenly felt terribly heavy, like they might crash through the floorboards. The room swayed and went dark. And then Linnet did something that she had never done before in all her twenty-four years. She tumbled to the floor in a dead swoon.

  XXXIII

  It was dark and quiet in the room and something damp was lying on her brow. Linnet could feel she was lying on a bed or a cushioned bench of some kind. Someone’s voice was coming in and out of focus, loud then quiet, then loud again. Linnet felt spent, hopeless and wretched. She didn’t even care about her disorientation or lack of vision. What did it matter anymore? She had lost everything. She could feel tears flowing down her cheeks from her closed eyes. She gave a soft sob.

  “Oh milady!” wept Gertie. “Oh, you did frighten me. When they carried you in here you was as limp as a rag!”

  “Where’s Cuthbert?” she croaked, reaching for Gertie’s hand. Her maid clasped it warmly.

  “He’s helping pack up your things, milady.”

  Linnet went cold. “Packing?” Already? She would never see Mason again, she thought dully. She would return to her tower and a life lived through books and illustrations. When she grew old and grey she would remember her short-lived marriage almost as if it were a dream. She shivered.

  “You cold milady?” Gertie asked considerately. “These rooms is too bare!” She clicked her tongue. “Can tell they’m bachelor rooms. Not a soft furnishing in sight! And not fit for the likes of you and so I told him!”

  Linnet frowned. She was a little woozy-headed, but something wasn’t making sense here. Lady Doverdale was a widow, not a bachelor. She turned her head. But no, Gertie was right. These weren’t Lady Doverdale’s rooms. She did recognize it vaguely though. “Where are we?” she asked weakly.

  “Still at that wicked court, more’s the pity,” said Gertie bitterly. “I heard all about it! How you been done out of your birthright and it’s a crying shame! What’s everyone back at Cadwallader Castle goin’ to say when they find out it’s been commandeered? Thievin’ wotsits, that’s what I say!” whispered Gertie hoarsely.

  Linnet’s head reeled. The door cracked open and a dark head peered round it. To her utter astonishment Sir Roland Vawdrey peered in! Grasping for the bedside cabinet, Linnet reached a brass candlestick holder off the side and flung it at his head as hard as she could possibly manage. "Get out!" she whimpered. Gertie shrieked and unfortunately the blasted thing soared only as far as the middle of the room before clanging against the bare flagstones and crashing to a halt.

  Roland dodged back out. “She’s mad as fire,” she heard him say before the door creaked open again and Mason strode in.

  Her heart stopped and she stared at him.

  He looked long and hard at her tear-streaked face and then cursed and pulled her off the bed.

  “There’s no need to be so rough with her!” begged Gertie, flinging her apron over her head and bursting into tears.

  Mason’s expression could have been carved in stone. “You’re coming out to eat with the family and you’d best get used to it,” he said in a flat voice.

  Then Linnet recognized the room. It was Mason’s bedroom at the palace. She had been lying on his bed! No sooner had it clicked into place then he was yanking her out of the room and dragging her into another room off the sitting room. When she tried to protest or twist out of his punishing grip, he spun her round and leant his face down close to hers. His eyes were hard. “You’re a Vawdrey now Linnet, and you’re staying one. The sooner you get used to that fact, the better.” He half-carried her to a seat at a small dining table where Baron Vawdrey, Oswald and Roland were all sat looking at her uneasily. An elderly male servant was placing dishes on the table for dinner.

  Baron Vawdrey sat at the head of the table, cleared his throat. “Right sorry I am about this lass,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s a sad day for you, and no mistake. But er.. such is the lot of women,” he said, obviously making an attempt to be conciliatory for once in his life. “They’re always the one’s to suffer for men’s mistakes. Best to simply try and make the best of a bad lot.”

  Linnet stared, then she realized Mason was ladling food to her plate. It looked like a vegetable stew and smelt, she noticed distractedly, quite delicious.

  Wordlessly he poured a cup of frothy white milk into a cup and passed it to her. Linnet placed it carefully on the table as he took the seat beside her. “What did you do?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Mason?”

  He went still a moment. "Eat your meal," he said, not looking at her.

  "I'm still a Vawdrey?" she asked in disbelief. When Mason wouldn't answer she gazed up at Oswald who sat opposite her with a concerned look on his face. Seeing her silent appeal he gave a sharp nod of assent, his eyes full of sympathy.

  "We're still married?" she mumbled numbly.

  "Is she a bit slow?" asked Roland looking up from his plate. His father leaned over and fetched him a sharp clip round the ear. "Ow!"

  "Would everyone just eat their damn meal?" asked Mason in a low angry voice.

  Linnet stared down at her plate as the fog in her brain started to clear. After being violently ill after breakfast she found herself suddenly extremely hungry. She picked up her spoon and took a mouthful of nourishing stew. It was delicious. She looked up to give a smile at the servant who was hovering nearby with a loaf of bread. "This is lovely," she said, "thank you." The old man gave her a grudging smile as Mason's knife clattered to his plate. She didn't dare look at him as those hard, angry eyes hurt. Instead she ate her stew as the wheels in her head turned furiously. She had lost her castle and estates. That was a blow. It had been built by her ancestor Sir Geoffrey du Cadwallader and had been in the family for generations. And now it had been confiscated by the crown. But strangely enough, it was its people who she suffered a pang over, rather than the turrets and rolling fields. Faces flashed through her head: Nan, Robards, Gertie and Diggory, Mother Ames, Mrs Wickers, Sir Lang, Rolfe. Her fingers tightened on her cup of milk as she took a fortifying sip. She refused to even contemplat
e losing Cuthbert. Surely she'd be able to keep her page? But then how could she take him away from his grandmother? She shook her head and pushed it to the back of her mind. You're still a Vawdrey. She shot a look at Mason's averted profile which was still forbidding in the extreme. And where would they live? Her heart jumped. If it was here at court, then they need never be separated. She felt her cheeks grow warm at the thought. Then she remembered the queen's ultimatum and her train of thought faltered. Would Mason retain his position now he had chosen his marriage over his career? She thought he must have turned down a promotion but there had been no mention of him losing his current position as a consequence had there? How frustrating that she had fainted, she thought her cheeks suddenly flaming. And in front of everyone! Oh why had she done that? Now she didn't have a clear picture of what had happened at all and she could hardly ask when everyone was as jumpy as if they were sat on a bed of hot coals! She glanced up from her plate and found her in-laws all staring at her in varying degrees of concern. Even Baron Vawdrey looked sheepish. He reached across from his position at head of the table and patted her hand.

  "Don't fret lass, there's nothing to be done about it now, more's the pity."

  "At least it hasn't gone to the Jevons'," said Roland with satisfaction. "They've lost everything too. What?" he asked when Oswald tutted.

  Mason threw down his napkin. He turned to Linnet. "Are you done?" he asked abruptly.