Page 12 of The Consolation Prize

“Indeed, good Bryce,” Una began placatingly, once the astonished silence had abated. “You need have no worries on that score, for I have packed sufficiently for our journey, and only require some saddlebags in which to convey my things and then I will be most amply provided for.”

“And a mount,” added Armand smoothly.

Bryce placed a finger and thumb either side of his nose and breathed deeply a moment. Armand watched him with interest. Finally, he dropped his hand and drew himself up, a picture of quivering indignation. “I will do my best to give satisfaction,” he said in outraged tones, and backed out of the door in a show of injured pride. “Pray excuse me, while I give the orders.”

“Oh dear, poor Bryce,” murmured Una. “I am certain he will go running to Lord Vawdrey, for he is his creature, you know.” Armand shrugged. “Perhaps you are not acquainted with Earl Vawdrey?”

“I know his brother better, Sir Roland, the King’s champion.”

Una nodded thoughtfully. “You would, of course. From tournament circles.”

“Does it matter if he goes running to Vawdrey?” Armand asked.

Una bit her lip, clearly undecided. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Lord Vawdrey is vastly difficult to anticipate. But in any case, I do not think we could have presented a better front. You were magnificent! Truly. I had not dared to hope you would give so convincing a display.”

Armand assumed a modest expression. “I aim to give satisfaction.” He almost felt modest seeing the look of admiration on her face.

“I could not have hoped for a better partner in the ruse,” she assured him warmly. “Indeed, I almost believed you myself!”

He just felt relieved that his new bride was so easily pleased with a bit of bravado and swagger. He had that in abundance, but no doubt she’d soon learn he had precious little else to offer her.

3

Sat atop her new chestnut-brown mare an hour later, Una was ecstatic. Not only had Bryce provided her with a fine horse, but also with one smartly kitted out with saddlebags and panniers and a red leather bridle and saddle to match. He had been ably assisted in this by a fleet of servants who had packed and tied the fastenings, adding a whole host of other things that Una had not even thought to request. When she had been quite needlessly helped up into her saddle, a purse of monies had also been discreetly pressed into her hand.

In truth, she felt quite overwhelmed by it all. When she had humbly thanked Bryce for his offices, she was wholly sincere. She had not looked for such kindness; indeed, she had been expecting displeasure and even censure. To be sent away quite in disgrace, not with this abundance.

For a while, she had feared the King himself would come stomping down the corridor to forbid their flight, which now she came to think of it, out in the open with a blue sky above her, seemed quite ridiculous. After all, Wymer had heartily wanted to be rid of her! She had known only one wobble, and that was when Bryce had looked up at one of the arched castle windows and she had seen Lord Vawdrey’s dark figure stood there like a sinister shadow.

As her heart lurched in her breast, he raised a tentative hand in farewell and Una caught her breath. He was letting her go! It was perhaps too much to see it as his blessing, but that was how she interpreted it at the end of the day. She had no illusions about where the power truly lay at Wymer’s court.

Lord Vawdrey was at the center of everything, and precious little happened without his say-so. Occasionally Wymer got a bee in his bonnet, or Armenal asserted herself to get her own way, but for the most part, it was he who manipulated decisions of import at the royal court. She wondered briefly if the King would make him a duke, for engineering her disposal, and then dismissed it completely from her mind.

She had mirrored his wave with her own, and then turned her horse about to follow Sir Armand, who looked a very impressive figure indeed, sat astride his showy-white charger in his new burgundy suit. He wore the matching hat she had sewn, with its gold feather, though the short cloak had been stuffed unceremoniously into a sack. She could not deny it was too warm for a cloak as the late afternoon sun fairly blazed down. Indeed, she had discarded her own, which was now slung across the front of her saddle.

As the crossed through the west gate of the castle, into the bustling city streets, Una felt her spirits soar to quite giddy heights. She was free! Finally, free. Only yesterday, it had seemed an impossible dream. Not three hours ago she had felt she was fighting for her liberty in the face of a reluctant bridegroom who would be more likely to abandon than aid or abet her.

Armand turned in his saddle. “Stay close to me,” he recommended, quite needlessly, for Una had no intention of letting him out of her sight. He led her down a veritable warren of side-streets, some so narrow they had to wait until the stream of people subsided before they could ride down them.

Each street seemed to grow darker and less respectable-looking as they went on, and Una felt a twinge of alarm, observing some of the looks they drew from passers-by. She fancied she now knew why Armand had looked askance at his new outfit. They did not fit in with the inhabitants of these narrow-cobbled streets one bit.

Finally, her husband reined in before a rowdy-looking inn that had a large statue of a crow with an open beak huddled on the roof like a squatting gargoyle. Armand glanced up at the open window where two women, alike enough to be sisters, sat looking down on the street below, clad in somewhat low-cut dresses.

Armand doffed his jaunty feathered hat at them and called up a greeting. Both ladies broke out in simultaneous surprise. “Why, if it isn’t Sir Armand. I scarce recognized you, togged out in that regalia.”

“Don’t you look the proper gentleman!”

“Ladies, I have made my fortune,” he responded, beaming. He swept an arm toward Una. “A rich widow has consented to throw her lot in with mine. Behold my good lady wife, the Lady Una.”

Both women gaped at Una in open curiosity. “She never!” blurted one, while the other gasped, “Fancy!”

Una rallied at once. “Good day, ladies,” she said pleasantly. Neither one seemed disposed to answer her with anything more than a bold, assessing stare.

“Is my man still here?” Armand asked casually. “I rather lost track of him, with all said and done.”

“I expect you did,” said the first, with a toss of her head. “Wiv you up and gettin’ leg-shackled and all!”

“He left,” put in the other with an indignant huff. “Skipped out on his room wivout paying his board,” she said, with a sideways glance at Armand.