Page 20 of Wed By Proxy

“Well, I have plenty,” Guy countered aggressively. “We could start with assault and theft.”

The merchant gazed back at him unhappily. “My lord—”, he started, but Guy cut him off.

“If you did not believe this, then why did you not release the horse to him?” he asked with some belligerence.

Thurston gave a small cough. “In truth my lord, because my son made it plain that if we did so, we would incur your considerable displeasure.”

Guy drew in a deep breath. “I see,” he answered, once he had recovered his temper. “It seems I owe your son a debt.”

“I’m sure he does not see it in that manner,” Thurston murmured, “and was only too glad to be able to perform some small service for your lordship.”

Guy lapsed into brooding silence. “What of the items confiscated from the two boys?” he asked after a moment.

Thurston turned and motioned to one of his companions. It was the same melancholy looking fellow from earlier. He held a small wooden trunk which he made haste to bring forward, setting it on the table before Guy. The small key was still in the lock. Guy turned it and flung back the lid. Inside were two coiled brown leather belts and two sheathed daggers. One must belong to Robin, he supposed. Both knives looked perfectly serviceable and bore neither embellishment nor crest. He gave a short nod. “I will take these with me.”

“Of course, my lord. Edwards will come downstairs and accompany you to the stables.”

Guy wasn’t that surprised when they reached the stable yard and found the horse to be a broken down old nag, without even a bridle. Somehow, Mathilde’s words had prepared him for this eventuality. He cast his eyes heavenward a moment and then ordered it to be brought out and a halter and leading rein attached.

Temur was awaiting him in the thoroughfare outside, and eyed the animal with interest. “I take it the lady has not much of an aptitude for horses,” he commented wryly.

“Actually,” Guy rumbled. “She’s a very fair rider.” He kept his gaze straight ahead when he felt Temur’s surprised gaze on his face. He had attached the horse to his own and it was following along behind placidly enough.

“Not much of an eye for horse-flesh though, has she?” Temur rallied.

“I believe this horse was acquired for altruistic purposes,” Guy forced himself to respond. “Can we drop the subject?”

Temur shrugged. “Are we headed back to the manor now?”

“I’ve a few other things to pick up,” Guy said shortly. “Did you place the orders I gave you?”

“I did,” said Temur. “Though you gave me no measurements for the tailor. Luckily one of his daughters was there and looked to be of a muchness, so I told him to take her for a guide.”

“Good thinking.”

“I was at a loss at the cordwainer’s though,” Temur confessed, scratching his head. “And I doubt very much you measured her feet.”

“I know exactly the size of her feet,” Guy frowned, pulling on the reins to halt his horse. He held up his hand. “From the tip of my middle finger to here,” he said, pointing a finger to his wrist. “Measuring this much in width, at the widest point.” He held his thumb and index finger up to illustrate.

Temur blinked. “Well—”

“In which direction is the shoemaker?” Guy asked, turning in his saddle.

“We’re going back?” Temur glanced up at the sky. “It looks like we’ll likely have more snow before midday.”

Guy sent a scornful glance at his companion and turned his horse about. “Which direction?”

“This way,” sighed Temur, urging his own horse to turn. “It’s over yonder,” he said, pointing to a distant sign of a wooden shoe. They started forward.

“How’s that wife of yours?” Guy asked abruptly. “What was her name again?”

“Lettys. She’s well, my lord,” Temur responded cautiously. Guy grunted. He could feel Temur’s curious gaze still on him. “She’s ruffled my father’s feathers a bit,” Temur added after a moment. “Maybe us moving her in with the old man was a mistake, but he couldn’t manage the place on his own and it seemed the obvious move to make.”

Guy listened to this with knitted brows. “How is your Father? I don’t think I saw him at your wedding,” he said after a moment. He was sure that was right, but in truth he’d paid scant attention to the personal lives of his men over the past few years. Really, he should have done better, especially with Temur, whose Father was some sort of cousin of Guy’s mother, a few times removed which made him his kinsman. They had a large place over at Acton Dymock.

“He was not there, my lord,” sighed Temur. “He took my mother’s death hard. He gave us his blessing to wed, but could not face the celebrations. It’s been over five years now since my mother died. The house needs a lot of work and Lettys can’t wait to be the new broom that sweeps all before it. But Father’s resistant to change and well…” Temur coughed. “There’s been a few sharp words on both sides.”

“Hmmm.” An image of Guy’s own father flashed into his mind’s eye and he could well imagine what his sire would have had to say about him installing Mathilde at the hunting lodge. “It can’t be easy,” he said heavily.