Page 77 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“If it were not for the war, I do not think they would have risen to prominence,” commented the Queen. “Baron Vawdrey does not have the temperament or manners to be a courtier and Sir Mason is the most like him of his offspring, even though he is from the wrong side of the bed. Yes? Only Oswald fits in at court. He will rise to prominence I think, that one. Yes, I will watch him closely. He is the wolf in the clothing of the sheep. Very clever. You have heard of their reputations, have you not?”

Linnet thought fleetingly of Sir Chilton’s unguarded words in the tavern. She only knew that Mason had a reputation. Little else. And was Oswald really so cunning? She had always thought him smart, but . . .

“Do you mean at war, Queen Armenal? I had heard that my husband won his fame in the King’s northern campaigns.”

“Oh they are fierce in battle, these Vawdreys!” tutted the Queen. “Sir Mason acted as general for the King at the siege of Demoyne. He took the city in three weeks when they predicted three months.”

Linnet’s eyebrows rose. “I had heard something to that effect, Your Majesty,” she admitted. Though according to Sir Chilton it had taken a mere three days! Such was the nature of rumour! They had reached the throne room now, but Queen Armenal did not release her arm. The footmen opened the door and they sailed through the doors into the already busy room. Linnet blinked. More people! Her gaze came to a startled halt on a tall dark figure at the right of the room. Mason! Her heart thudded. She felt suddenly flushed and breathless at the sight of him. Queen Armenal headed unerringly towards the canopy at the head of the room. Sure enough, Linnet found herself heading up the red carpeted steps until the King and Queen’s thrones sat before her. The Queen gestured to a row of cushioned seats sat on a lower dais for attendants. The ladies-in-waiting were already plumping themselves down on the twelve matching chairs.

Armenal arranged herself on her throne, but, noticing Linnet hovering, she gazed at her ladies coldly. “One of you must give up your chair as I wish to speak to the Lady Linnet.”

The nearest one pouted and slid from her seat, which Linnet took with an apologetic glance. She couldn’t help but crane over her shoulder to get another look at Mason. He wasn’t hard to find, for in truth he stuck out like a sore thumb at court. Like a wildcat amongst all the tame, plump pigeons. She could see that now. The Queen was quite right. She did a double take as the displaced lady-in-waiting made a sign of protection while she looked at Mason.

“Elise!” snapped the Queen, rapping her knuckles against the hard wood seat. “Come here!” The female reddened and came towards them with a swift curtsy. “If you must ward off the evil spirits when you see the King’s champion maybe you should try and do it with more subtlety,” she suggested sweetly.

“Your pardon, Your Majesty.”

“And now you must ask the Lady Vawdrey for forgiveness, Elise.”

The girl’s fingers twitched as if even the mention of the name Vawdrey called for the symbol of the evil eye. “Your forgiveness, my lady,” she muttered, not quite meeting Linnet’s eyes.

“Be on your way, simpleton,” the Queen’s lip curled. “You must excuse Elise. She’s listened to too much gossip.” Linnet watched as the girl scurried away, her face flaming. “The King would be very angry if he realized these stories still persist.” The Queen sighed and shot a look at Linnet.

Suddenly Linnet realized Armenal was dying to tell her the rumors around her husband’s family. Contrarily, she vowed not to ask. “People can be so superstitious and ignorant,” she said instead, rather boldly.

A small amused smile curved the Queen’s lips. “I find you quite refreshing, Lady Linnet” she said. “But you are not so sure if you like this strange western Queen,” she laughed.

“You must excuse me,” said Linnet. “I am in all of a whirl. I hardly know how I feel about anything presently.”

“You are the heroine of the hour,” nodded the Queen. “But yes it’s true,” she argued when Linnet demurred. “Before your arrival, everyone was whispering about Sir Mason’s new bride. The poor little invalid who was dragged from her sickbed to marry the warlord. It is very romantic, is it not?”

It occurred to Linnet that her idea of romance and Queen Armenal’s must be very different. She glanced across the hall and found Mason’s gaze trained straight on her and colored slightly.

“He is very intense is he not?” commented the Queen slyly. “I think he must have been in love with you even on your wedding day.”

Linnet’s eyes widened with surprise. Even as she opened her mouth to deny it, the Queen forestalled her.

“You are too reserved to confide in me, I know.” She raised a hand as Linnet protested. “I understand. You are probably wise. The walls have ears here.” She smiled as Linnet’s eyes swept the busy hall. “But still, it is very romantic. Far more romantic than a marriage of convenience with the baby Vawdrey! You would not be so well suited, I do not think.”

The Queen signaled to a waiting page who brought forward a tray of wine. They both took a goblet, and the page retreated.

“I have never met Sir Roland Vawdrey,” admitted Linnet.

“Never met? But this must be remedied,” murmured the Queen as she raised the cup to her lips. Linnet didn’t particularly want to meet Roland, but she supposed there was no getting out of it. He was her brother-in-law after all. The Queen languidly raised a hand and another footman scooted close. She murmured something. The footman retreated but then the Queen recalled him.

“But not those execrable Jevonses!” she added warningly. “They will not be admitted.”

Linnet’s eyes widened. She turned to the lady-in-waiting next to her. “Did the Queen just send for Sir Roland Vawdrey?” she whispered.

The lady-in-waiting merely fluttered her eyelashes and giggled. Linnet turned back to the Queen in exasperation. Queen Armenal gave a shrug which seemed to say, “You see what I mean?”

XXXI

Mason’s whole body felt tense and on edge, like he was fighting his own instinct, which told him to march right over to Linnet now and claim his wife back. Probably because he was.

Oswald grabbed his arm. “The King’s just indicated we can approach,” he murmured. The King had now taken his place on the dais on the chair next to his Queen. Wymer was fair-haired like his royal standard, the golden lion. He had very blue eyes set in a surprisingly tanned face. Right at this moment, Mason felt like punching him in it.

“Do try and reign in the aura of battle, Brother,” sighed Oswald. “You’ll make the King defensive.”