Page 66 of An Ill-Made Match

“The Baron was unfortunate to lose both his wives,” Eden conceded.

“Both?” repeated Orla in surprise. “Oh no, I’m sure he had many more than that!”

“No, no,” Eden corrected her. “He was married only twice.”

“But surely…” Orla broke off and flushed. “Oh, I just remembered,” she said awkwardly. “It is hardly nice to mention it, but some of those unfortunate women were… lemans!”

“You mean Mason’s mother?” asked Eden calmly. “But she did not die. She returned to her husband.”

Orla turned quite pink. “You mean she abandoned the sanctity of her marriage?”

“Apparently.”

“Well!” Orla looked quite flabbergasted by this. “I am astonished that any man would take her back.”

“Perhaps she was very beautiful?” hazarded Eden. “Beautiful people are often pardoned things that others are not.”

Orla pursed her lips. “There is only one true beauty,” she said piously. “And that is of the soul.”

The door opened again, and Brigid plunked a plate in front of Orla, along with a knife and a spoon.

“Is she a village girl?” Orla asked loudly as Brigid exited the room. Eden thought she saw Brigid’s shoulder hitch.

“Yes,” she said, “One of the Hambles,” adding in her mind, by marriage. Orla’s company was not the most congenial, she thought, and wished it was Fenella sitting before her instead of her prickly sister-in-law. “Tell me, have you met Fenella’s twin sons yet?”

“Not yet,” admitted Orla, spooning herself some herrings from the bowl. “I invited them to visit with us for Midsummer’s, but Earl Vawdrey is far too over-protective and has vowed Fen will not stir from their home for a six month following her lying-in. It is too ridiculous.”

“They are a most devoted couple,” said Eden pushing the butter dish in Orla’s direction. Perhaps she would be more affable once she had eaten?

“Devoted?” repeated Orla shrilly. “He is quite silly about her. She can do no wrong in his eyes. Fenella has only to voice the smallest hankering for something and he delivers it up to her, tied with a bow. You should see her jewels! Her gowns! It’s not really quite… well, decent,” stressed Orla. “And now she has given him two sons, he will be even worse, you mark my words.” She dug her knife into the pat of butter. “By rights of course, she should be installed here,” she sniffed. “While he’s at court. But no, he cannot bear to be apart from her, and instead buys her not one, mark you, but two town houses the size of cattle markets and fills them with baubles to keep her amused!” Orla shook her head. “She would do very well here, with her own people,” she said peevishly. “I’m married to her brother, so I should know!”

“Earl Vawdrey is also from hereabouts,” Eden reminded her.

“Oh yes, him,” said Orla. “But he could not wait to brush the dust of Sitchmarsh from his boots. Always thought he was too good for this place, he did. With his fancy ways.”

“He’s gifted this place to Roland now,” Eden told her and braced herself for a shocked reaction.

Orla’s knife clattered down onto her plate. “He what?”

“Vawdrey Keep, he has bestowed it on Roland.”

“His birthright?” squawked Orla.

“Yes.”

“Given to the youngest son?”

“Yes.”

“I never heard of such a thing!”

“It is certainly very generous.”

“Generous!” repeated Orla. “Pah!” She tucked into her herrings, mumbling under her breath.

Eden thought she said, You just wait till my Gil hears about this, but could not make out the rest of it. She did not think that Oswald Vawdrey would care overmuch what his countrified brother-in-law thought of his affairs, but kept this to herself. “Do you know yet what names Fenella has given her boys?” she asked diplomatically.

“Names?” Orla looked puzzled. “Oh! I do not think they name them until they are at least three months, do they?” she looked vague. “After all, they are not kittens.”