Page 92 of Wed By Proxy

“Is she loyal?” Guy barked with a bitter crack in his voice. “I hadn’t noticed. Last time I checked, loyal wives didn’t up and leave their husbands.”

“You’d still want a disloyal wife?”

Still want her? He stared at Oswald. “She’s mine, and I’m having her. I don’t give a damn if she’s loyal or not. I won’t give her the chance to be otherwise.”

Oswald gave a dry smile. “Her loyalty will never be to the north, of course. But you might have had it, if you’d treated her with a bit more consideration.”

“I don’t give a shit about the north anymore!” exclaimed Guy stung. “I’ve never raked any of that business up between us!” He gazed past Oswald through the opening in the tent, to the fluttering pennants, the royal pavilion. “If necessary, I’ll pledge my loyalty now to the Argent Queen,” he said. “On bended knee.”

“Armenal would doubtless like that,” Oswald mused. “But I don’t think your wife would like to see you humbled in front of your men.”

“I would not give a damn.” Guy shrugged.

“Lady Doverdale,” Oswald interrupted him, his tone casual. “Wants to negotiate a separation with you, and take her daughter back to Aphrany on the morrow.”

Guy was immediately livid. “I won’t permit it.”

“Despite your dislike of southerners and your vow of allegiance to the Blechmarsh line?”

“I renounced that fealty years ago,” Guy reminded him. “There’s only one vow I care about now.”

“Oh?”

Guy glared at him, feeling frustrated and entirely out of his element. What did this man want from him?

“Can I take it,” Oswald elaborated painstakingly. “That the vow you speak of is the one I extracted from you so deviously? Your wedding vow?”

“You can!” Guy muttered the words angrily.

Oswald sighed. “I need to hear from your lips, Martindale. That you prize her and mean to treat her well.”

Guy stared at him. How the hells was he supposed to vocalize such things to this man, his enemy? Then he took a deep breath.

“I’d do anything, just to receive her smile, her good opinion,” he said gruffly, and felt his face turning hot. “I cannot tolerate the thought of returning home without her. My life would be empty. Desolate. Worthless.”

“And if,” Oswald speculated, “she said she wished to spend half of her time at court?”

“Not without me.”

Oswald’s eyebrows rose. “You would come to court? You? To wait on the Argent King and his Queen?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Aye, I would. Anything.”

Vawdrey was silent for a moment. “You poor bastard,” he said. “I promised my wife I would make you suffer a little for what you’d put Lady Mathilde through, but if it makes you any easier, I am deriving little joy from it.”

“Well, you can tell her I’m suffering the torments of the damned, if that will make her happy!”

Vawdrey arched a brow at him. “It wouldn’t,” he said. Then added curiously, “Is it really as bad as all that?”

Guy clenched his jaw. “I need to speak with her!” he burst out rawly. “You don’t understand, Vawdrey. Before we parted…” he broke off wretchedly at the throb in his voice. “I said some things…” he found himself unable to continue.

“And, if you had some speech with her?” Oswald prodded gently.

“I can make things right,” said Guy hoarsely. “Give her my vow, plight my troth anew. Whatever she deems necessary.”

Oswald nodded. “There is also another matter, Martindale, that I must have some speech with you about,” he said cautiously. “One that I confess, I bear some blame.”

Guy tensed. “If you’re trying to claim there was aught amiss in our vows…”