Page 86 of An Ill-Made Match

“Oh yes. We quarrel and bicker, and then afterward, well…” she broke off again feebly. “He does not seem to really bear grudges. It’s almost seems as if it clears the air.”

Lady Dorothea cupped her chin in one hand and regarded Eden thoughtfully. “Your grandfather and I had some lively spats in the early days of our marriage,” she said vaguely.

“Really?” For some reason, Eden was startled by that information.

“I hope you don’t think I’m intruding, Eden,” her grandmother said. “But what exactly does Sir Roland imagine motivated you to climb into his bed?”

Eden sighed. “He thinks I decided to entrap him into marriage,” she said simply. “But for some reason, that did not give him a disgust of me like you’d think. He seems to… rather like the idea that I wanted him that much,” She felt her cheeks turn quite pink at her grandmother’s regard. “He’s ridiculous sometimes, and I’ve given up trying to understand him.”

Her grandmother gave a short, startled laugh. “Have I been worrying over nothing?” she asked shrewdly.

Eden looked away. “Possibly. Do you think I ought to discuss the sleepwalking thing with him?” she asked.

“What do you think?” Her grandmother sounded curious.

“I think it would make him feel sorry for me,” said Eden abruptly. “And I do not want that.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Somehow Eden doubted it. “The thing Roland admires most in all the world is bravery,” she said suddenly. “I suppose, I would like him to think me brave, rather than an object of pity.”

Her grandmother did not speak for several moments, and when she did, Eden was taken aback.

“I’m going home,” Lady Dorothea said. “To Hallam Hall. In a month or so, when you have set everything in order here, you and your husband can invite me to stay with you, and I will accept. Then I will get to see these quarrels for myself.”

“Very well, grandmother.”

“Come and kiss my cheek and wish me a good journey.” Eden complied. “It seems your in-laws mean to draw a veil over the whole unfortunate business of the betrothal feast,” she said with a sigh. “On reflection, I can see that would be the best thing for all involved.” She tapped Eden lightly on the cheek. “Do not go running away with the idea that Roland Vawdrey is so very philanthropical or chivalrous in his consideration toward you.”

Eden hesitated. “How do you mean, grandmother?”

“It stands to reason. If he was not angry to find you in his bed,” she said dryly. “It was because he wanted you there in the first place.”

**

Eden saw her grandmother out and then returned to the sitting room. A packet of letters awaited her attention, and she untied the ribbon that tied them together without much enthusiasm. The first was from a Mr Childers who was one of the artists she supported. He was a very gentle and earnest man of middle years, who had been employed writing the same ballad for as long as she’d known him. This time he had sent her three verses he had extensively re-written, and had plunged into these without much by way of greeting. Luckily, she recognized his sloping handwriting, before she got to the illegible signature. She set this aside and turned to an irate letter she had to read through twice before she could make head nor tail of it. It seemed that the poet the Dowager Duchess of Rand had agreed to sponsor was very upset at the treatment he had received from her. Other than that, and an obscure charge of ‘wanton theft of intellectual property’, Eden was not sure what else could be drawn from it. The letter was signed R. Lewen. She cudgeled her brain, but could not bring R. Lewen to mind. Casting that aside, she came next to a very agreeable letter from Gunnilde Payne, and lost herself catching up with what her new friend had been up to. Gunnilde’s narrative held a wistful tone, and Eden thought things must have seemed a little flat at her father’s house after the tournament was done and dusted. To Eden’s surprise she only mentioned Arthur Conway once in passing, and Eden guessed that the friendship between their two families had not had any great resurgence since. Eden lowered the letter and thought a moment. In her estimation, her friend deserved considerably better. She wondered what she could do for her, when the Paynes came to stay at court as planned. Could she introduce her, for instance, to one of Roland’s well-connected friends? Before she had pondered too long on the eligibility of his acquaintance, she reminded herself of the uncertainty of her own wedded status. By the time the Paynes arrived at court, there was a very real chance she herself could be unmarried and in disgrace. A sharp knock at the outer door roused her from her glum thoughts, and she heard Jane Cecil conversing with one of the guards out in the corridor.

Suddenly the door to the sitting room opened, there was a whirl of turquoise silk and blonde ringlets and it shut again. Her cousin Lenora was stood with her back against the door, a determined look on her face.

“Should we take a walk, do you think?” Lenora suggested brightly. “We could take your oversized hound,” she said looking at Parnell.

Eden blinked at her. “That might be a good notion,” she agreed cautiously, and glanced at Parnell who was still lying at her feet.

“Has Grandmother told you she is leaving for Hallam Hall?”

“Yes, she told me. Will we need cloaks do you think?” Eden asked glancing at the window.

“No, ‘tis a fine afternoon.”

“Then I will just go and speak with Jane…”

“Oh, but we can chaperone each other, surely?” said Lenora hastily.

Were they to have some frank speech between them? Wondered Eden. She hoped so, however painful it might prove. Jane Cecil voiced no objection to the cousins taking a turn in the gardens, and they slipped out by a side door into the Queen’s rose garden.

“Does he not need a halter or some reigns?” asked Lenora, eyeing Parnell doubtfully as he bounded joyfully across the neat walkways.

“He’s not a horse,” Eden pointed out mildly.