Page 90 of An Ill-Made Match

Eden could only suppose her cousin was trying to be tactful. She looked uncertainly to Lord Vawdrey to find him still watching her. “I saw your plans for the Keep,” she said awkwardly.

“My plans?” he sounded startled.

“Yes, for the expansion and a second tower.”

“Good gods,” said Oswald Vawdrey, and for the first time she could see she had taken him aback. “He never kept them!”

Eden looked at him enquiringly. “The old baron?” she guessed.

His unseeing gaze refocused on her. “Yes, my father,” he said slowly. “I presented them to him, rather pompously, as a gift when I was twenty or thereabouts. I was vastly proud of myself.” His lips twisted wryly. “Alas, he was not ostensibly impressed or grateful. He believed me an impudent puppy to want to improve on perfection. I thought he would have consigned them to a fireplace years ago. He certainly never mentioned them again. Well, well, wonders will never cease.”

“I expect he was impressed,” said Eden, feeling strangely sorry for a younger version of Oswald. “I can hardly see how he could fail to be. I thought they were inspired.” She looked at him searchingly. “Roland is terribly proud of Vawdrey Keep as well, he must have got that from his father, I think. Did you want to be an architect then?”

“What? Oh no, it was just a little project to while away the hours. Having spent time at Vawdrey Keep, you must realize how one must find ways to keep oneself occupied.”

“If I’d had my books and my music I daresay I would have been vastly contented there,” said Eden defensively. “It is a very beautiful part of the country with many spectacular views.” Noticing he was watching her keenly, she shifted in her seat.

“I think, with your encouragement,” he began tentatively. “Roland would not be averse to making improvements to the old place. You might not think it, but he has managed to amass a surprising amount of wealth beating his opponents to a pulp in the field.” He pulled a face. “And he is not noticeably hampered either by sentiment or pride, when it comes to melting down his trophies to add to his already groaning coffers.”

“While it’s true that my husband routinely melts down his trophies,” said Eden spurred into making a defense. “I think you’re quite wrong to attribute this to a lack of sentimentality.” She paused. She didn’t want to betray any of Roland’s secrets, but she could surely point out something which any onlooker was free to observe. She eyed Oswald doubtfully. “Have you never noticed that Roland is one of the only knights who declines to take hostages during the melee exercise?”

Oswald’s eyelids flickered, and he tipped his head to one side, a faint frown on his face. “You clearly attach some significance to the fact, sister?” he said mildly, but she could see his eyes were watchful, despite his relaxed pose.

“I do, quite frankly,” she answered him. “How could I fail to, given what happened at the Battle of Adarva.”

Oswald’s expression tightened, and she could see her directness did not please him. Good gracious, did he really expect her to tiptoe around the issue like some kind of diplomat? “He was only fifteen at the time,” she persisted. “And thought he’d watched you die. Then he found out afterward you were a hostage-”

Oswald waved a hand, “Yes, I am aware of what happened, Eden,” he said dryly. “None so well as I.”

She took a deep breath. “Is it any wonder then, that he has no taste for the practice? Even though his greatest rivals in the field - Lord Kentigern, de Crecy… They all do it, as a matter of course. If all Roland cared about was coin,” she persisted doggedly. “Then he too, would hold his vanquished foe to ransom. But he does not.”

“Out of deference to me, you think?” asked Oswald lightly, but she could see the idea had affected him. He rose from his chair and crossed to the fireplace, looking down at it a moment. “I did not realize that hostage-taking was so widely practiced at tournaments these days,” he said finally, without turning his head.

“Well, no, how could you?” muttered Eden. “When none of you actually go to watch him compete?”

He turned his head at that, and looked at her a moment, his expression curious. Then his lips quirked and he looked, Eden thought, rather pleased. “We have been most remiss,” he said gravely. “You are quite right to pull me up. Tell me, which tournament would you recommend we attend as a family en masse?”

Eden was quite sure she did not manage to conceal her surprise at this, though she tried. “But surely, you are aware of the King’s royal tourney in two month’s time…?” she began.

“Ah yes, of course. And who knows, we may even see him reclaim his title!” he said with relish. “What an excellent notion, my dear Eden.”

She hesitated. “Are you not worried I may tell Roland that we were drugged?” she asked frankly.

Oswald leant back in his chair. “He would be furious on your behalf of course,” he said thoughtfully. “But on reflection, I believe he would forgive me for his treatment. Eventually.” He gave a small smile. “After all, I made sure he married the right girl.”

**

Lenora accompanied Eden back to the Queen’s apartments and they sat a while in the window seat while they threw out random questions at each other, as they naturally occurred.

“Well, but who carried me into Roland’s bedchamber?” Eden fretted, sitting suddenly bolt upright.

“Lord Vawdrey of course, but I was with him the whole time so you need not worry about the propriety.”

“And who removed my dress?”

“Me of course,” answered Lenora complacently. “My turn. What did you think when you received my trunk?”

“That you were furious with me,” admitted Eden. “Did you truly pick out these dresses intending them for me?”