Page 31 of Wed By Proxy

XVI

I will not go to her, Guy resolved grimly. He had been distracted all day, and he wasn’t the only one who had noticed it. At midday he, Firmin and Temur went to pay a series of scheduled visits on his estate. He could feel Firmin and Temur casting furtive glances at him all afternoon. Finally, on their ride back from an outlying farm, they plucked up the courage to tackle him about the cause.

“You didn’t seem much interested in what Hapland suggestion about passing the tenancy to his son-in-law,” Temur piped up. “Did you have someone else in mind for that end plot?”

Guy shrugged and noticed them exchange looks. “I’ve nothing against his proposal,” he answered grudgingly. “Johnson seems capable enough.”

“You barely spoke to him,” Firmin pointed out with a frown.

“What’s there to say?” Guy growled. “Hapland said he was willing to teach him. Why should I gainsay it? It makes no odds to me.”

“It’s not like you not to sound someone out,” said Temur. “That’s all. Usually you take these things so seriously.”

Guy gave a huff of irritation. “I took the both of you along,” he said pointedly. “If you had any doubts, you should have spoken up!”

“I’ve nothing against young Johnson,” Firmin admitted slowly. Guy turned in his saddle to look at Temur.

“Me neither,” he said, glancing away.

“So why are you quibbling about my decision then?” demanded Guy.

“You just seem a little out of sorts,” said Temur cagily. “Not yourself, that’s all.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but after darting a glance at Firmin he seemed to think better of it.

“I can’t believe you went to her last night, Guy!” Firmin burst out furiously, as if he could no longer contain himself. “Everyone’s whispering about you staying out all night, taking a kept woman!”

Guy pulled up on his reins, and stepped into Firmin’s path, blocking him. “What did you say?” he asked in a low, angry voice.

“Did you really think it would remain a secret? It’s the talk of the place!”

“I never said anything!” Temur interjected in alarm, but Guy ignored him. He already knew neither Waldon nor Temur would have gossiped.

“She’s the enemy and you know it!” Firmin shouted, grabbing at his own reins to control his skittish horse. “Some emissary of your southern bitch of a wife, or worse!“

“If I can keep a civil tongue in my head when it comes to her, then I’m damned sure you will, Firmin,” Guy roared.

“A civil tongue? You took her to your bed last night!” Firmin spluttered, as his horse slipped on the icy path. “And soon everyone will know of it!” he added bitterly as his horse righted itself.

“I don’t give a damn!” spat Guy, wheeling his horse about. “Let them know of it! It’s my business and no one else’s.”

They stared at each other, breathing hard. Their breath hung about them in icy clouds.

“If your father only knew! A southerner at Acton March,” Firmin spat. To his surprise Guy found the words no longer held the sting they should.

“We lost the war, after ten long years of fighting,” he said tightly. “Call him the southern king all you want. Wymer’s colors fly over all Karadok now. The Blechmarshes are done. My father’s dead. You’d best wake up to the fact, Firmin. You surrendered along with the rest of us.”

“The princess still lives!” Firmin stated hoarsely.

Guy fixed a steely gaze on him. “Una’s been Wymer’s prisoner some five years now. You know what happened that night at Sandysford as well as I. She refused the chance of escape with myself and Ulverston. It was her last chance. It’s a miracle they haven’t executed her already.”

“Maybe they have,” said Temur, breaking his silence. “And they’re just southern lies about her being under house arrest.”

Guy shrugged. “We played our cards in the whole debacle,” he said feeling suddenly tired. “And we lost. That hand is played out.”

Firmin struggled a moment with words, then seemed to lose the will to speak. He sagged in his saddle, looking defeated.

They were approaching the house now. One of the servants ran down the steps to take the horses, but Guy did not dismount as the other two did. Strangely enough, Firmin’s words had only cemented his earlier thoughts, that it was pointless resisting the inevitable. If his guilt was already decided, then why should he continued to fight his own will? Feeling the weight of a burden lifted, he tugged the reins, turning his horse about.

“I’ll be back on the morrow,” he flung over his shoulder, and started off for the woods at a gallop. He thought he heard Firmin call after him, but did not turn back. The fresh snowfall had obliterated any tracks through the woods, but his horse picked his way through the trees surely enough, remembering their previous path. He wondered fleetingly about the reception he would find. He hadn’t exactly done himself credit the last time, getting drunk and then insulting her on the morning after. His brain skipped over the night he’d spent in her bed. He could not remember it, and could only hope he had been a considerate lover. It had been so long since he’d lain with a woman, the possibility that he had not been gentle weighed heavy with him. She was so small and delicate. And he, decidedly, was not.