Page 90 of Wed By Proxy

2 days later

The wind whipped the pavilions and Mathilde could barely hear herself think above the chatter of her teeth. Where was Guy? Lord Vawdrey’s men had reported his return to Acton March two hours ago. She was going to freeze to death out here before he came to claim her!

Her mother was approaching from the royal tent. She came to a halt beside Mathilde’s chair. “Daughter, I really think we should ask permission to go back into the house. You will catch a chill and—”

“Nonsense, Mother!” She had to yell to be heard above the howling wind. Willard sat to her right, snorted with laughter and she noticed Gordon and Piers nudging each other. She supposed she did sound rather rude and ungracious. “Queen Armenal herself instructed us to wait here,” she added, glancing back at the queen who was sat nearby on a scarlet dais under a golden canopy. For all that she was under cover, she did not look much warmer than they. The queen’s lips were definitely tinged blue, and she clutched her furs around her tightly. The ideas of tents and pageantry in such weather was the height of folly. The snow had now melted it was true, but it was bitterly cold and the bare trees stripped of leaves shook in a gale force wind. “Guy will doubtless be arriving shortly. He must have received the queen’s invitation by now,” she added.

Her mother hesitated a moment, but then stiffly inclined her head and retreated back to the queen.

Mathilde realized she had shocked her mother a good deal the previous day with her tales, though Queen Armenal had been agog. Strange to say, the one that seemed to grieve Lady Doverdale the most was Mathilde’s confession that she had sulked when Guy had departed to escort Lady Allworthy back home. Her mother was incredulous that Mathilde could have behaved with such a lack of wifely dignity. “Lord Martindale was acting under obligation, rather than personal inclination,” she had pointed out in shocked accents.

Of course, Mathilde had left out certain factors in the recap, but more had slipped out than she had intended. The business of the brooch, for instance. “That would be vexing of course,” her mother had conceded. “But to have demanded its return like that was vulgar in the extreme, my child!” The queen had loved it though, and vowed that if Lady Allworthy did not return the ruby, then she would give to Mathilde her own ruby brooch which she had brought with her from the Western Isles.

The queen had fussed over Mathilde almost as much as Nurse had, and bestowed on her a fine gown of rose damask and a cap of pearls to wear over her curling head. She vowed she had been sorely missed at court, and acted as though Mathilde had been a feted favorite rather than a sad failure. Really, the whole thing had been most peculiar! Nurse had shed tears over her and her lost hair, and Mathilde had allowed it for an hour or so and then gently detached herself.

“All is well, Nurse and how it should be,” had been her refrain whenever Nurse had started fretting. The old woman had been sadly bewildered, but resigned to the fact her charge had moved on.

Anxiously, Mathilde scanned the horizon. What is that? She sat up straighter. One dark figure appeared on horseback, then, two, four, six…? She heard a stirring behind her, and the clash of steel against armor. The Duke of Cadwallader loomed behind her seat, barking orders and pointing to the company of men the king had sent to accompany the queen north. He had seen the riders too, and did not sound happy about their number. Mathilde twisted in her seat to see Lord Vawdrey walking across to his brother the Duke. Normally, Mathilde was terrified of Mason Vawdrey, Duke of Cadwallader, but this morning she found herself almost in sympathy with him. He too was extremely frustrated with the queen’s notions of meeting on an open field and negotiating Mathilde’s return to her husband. No one, not even Lord Vawdrey could convince Queen Armenal otherwise, though. She was determined to have her sport.

“Why are there so many of them?” Mason barked at Oswald. “I recognize some of these colors. Strethneal, Kirkland, Osbeck. Have you forgotten that I led the forces that defeated these men in battle?” he demanded tersely. “I razed Kerslake castle to the ground. I defeated Strethneal’s nephew in combat and imprisoned Kirkland’s only son.”

Oswald tutted. “War is a brutal thing, brother,” he murmured. “If I have my way, Karadok will never be plunged into such dark times again.”

“This is no time for your politicking! We could be plunged into battle this very morn! And look at us with naught but a handful of men and a bunch of mere babes!”

“Hey!” objected Piers. “We happen to be Lady Martindale’s personal guard!”

Mason ignored him, drawing his sword and stepping level to Mathilde’s seat, signaling to the other guards to advance and stand beside him.

Mathilde saw the approaching party halt and confer. She could make out people now. Guy was there at the head, with some noblemen she recognized vaguely from the night of the feast. She could also see Temur, Waldon and even Firmin. She swung around to address the fearsome Duke hotly.

“Why have you drawn your swords? My husband will surely think you are hostile!”

He answered her grimly. “There are twice as many of them as us, and they have no women or children to hinder them.”

“Personal guard,” muttered Gordon. “Not children!” The boys murmured resentfully between themselves.

Then Will sat up. “There’s Rob!” he yelled. “Hey, Rob!”

Mathilde could see Robin among their number now, he looked startled to see his fellow pages sat in matching red tunics on golden seats. He gave a tentative wave and the other three waved enthusiastically back.

Oswald clasped his brother the Duke on the shoulder. “Look at his face, Mason,” he said in a low compelling voice.

Mason Vawdrey hesitated and scanned the party opposite. Mathilde followed suit. Guy did not look well. Even from this distance she could see the purple smudges below his eyes. He looked like he had not slept in a week.

“What ails him?” Mason asked after a moment.

“He doesn’t give a fuck that you’re his hated foe. Look where his gaze is trained.” Mathilde noticed both brothers were now gazing at her. “Mason, she’s his Linnet,” said Oswald softly.

Mason looked up sharply. “Do not say such things lightly, brother,” he said warningly.

“I would never,” Oswald answered him gravely. “I recognize the symptoms having suffered from them myself. So can you, if you look closely.” Mason seemed to take another considered look at Martindale, and then after a long moment, sheathed his sword and flagged a hand for the soldiers to follow suit. “Good man,” Oswald commended him, clapping him on the back. Mason merely grunted.

“What’s causing the delay, my lords?” called Queen Armenal from her seat. “Bid Lord Martindale to approach us.”

Mathilde could have sworn that Mason muttered an oath under his breath. Oswald smiled his blandest smile and walked forward looking for all the world as if he was taking a morning stroll. Mason gave a short laugh. “He’s a cool devil, my brother, I’ll give him that.” Oswald held one hand up in welcome and stopped a short distance from the others.

“I can’t hear anything,” Gordon grumbled. Willard was cleaning his nails with the jeweled dagger she had given him.