Page 91 of The Favourite

“I? Not at all, I assure you. I am perfectly at my leisure.”

Vawdrey smirked. “Perhaps you are simply eager for your supper,” he suggested innocently, “or something else to be found back in your rooms.” Alisander narrowed his eyes at him. “Tell me, did you meet with any of your wife’s family when you were at Kinnerton?” Vawdrey asked. “Only you did not stay there long.”

“I met briefly with her uncle,” Alisander admitted. “He returned to the capital, I think.”

“Oh, indeed, he did,” Vawdrey agreed swiftly, making Alisander’s ears perk up. “If I might be permitted to make a suggestion, you may want to pay him a second visit when you have the chance.” Vawdrey’s eyes met his.

“Oh?”

“It is always good to be in accord with your in-laws,” he said mildly. “And Sir Philip seems to have such a lot of time on his hands recently. Sadly, it is often the case that those with nothing better to do frequently occupy themselves stirring up trouble.”

Alisander paused. “Trouble?” he asked softly.

“He seeks an audience with the King,” Vawdrey murmured, barely audibly. “Seeks without success thus far, but an intervention might be timely. Perhaps, a kindly word in his ear?”

Alisander swore under his breath. “I had a word. Several actually.”

Vawdrey tutted. “Might I suggest a sterner word, or … perhaps something stronger?”

“You might,” Alisander said grimly, his mood plummeting. So much for a pleasant night spent dallying with his wife. He would have to venture out of the palace again, and this time, without anyone following him.

21

Over the next few days, Jane turned her thoughts a lot to puzzling over the enigma of the man she had married. She found it so hard to make sense of him. The obnoxious, mocking creature she knew of old did not really fit with this new side to him that she was seeing.

Of course, he was still a teasing and tormenting creature. He liked to make his little jabs, but somehow his digs did not really seem to sting so much now she knew how much he—well—not liked her precisely. Desired her? The thought alone made Jane blush, but there was no denying the fact now.

She was sure she would not be indulging such thoughts if she was not cooped up in these rooms, all day. It did not matter how assiduously she practiced her music and embroidery; her thoughts would inevitably stray back to this strange man she had married.

There had only been one night since their marriage was consummated that he had not been all over her once bedtime was nigh. Jane was not sure of the correct term for marital relations. It was not something she had ever cared to discuss or really consider before.

That particular night he had not returned once, and she had lain awake an age before drifting off to sleep. On waking, hours later, to find herself still alone, she had been unable to settle back to sleep. Where was he? Had he not assured her he would be back directly? He had kissed her thrice in front of Ayleth, ordered her to think of him, and then he had not returned all the day long. It was too much!

She had thrown the covers back and left the warm bed to seek him out. Perhaps he had returned, just not to their bed? On first peering into the main room, she had thought it empty before noticing him sat quietly at the desk.

“My dear, you cannot sleep?” he asked without looking up.

Jane was startled, though she could not really say why, not at first. “I awoke and you were gone,” she said lamely.

“Well, now you have located me,” he countered, meeting her gaze. Something was definitely not quite right, she thought, her breath catching in her throat, for though he smiled, it did not touch his eyes at all.

Then she had noticed his clothes. They were all wrong too, of a dark and sober hue, most unlike anything usually worn by her flamboyant husband. The only black garments he owned were festooned all over with ostentatious devices or silver thread. Whose clothes was he wearing?

As though noting her scrutiny, he stood from the desk and crossed the room to take her into his arms. “I think you have missed me after all,” he mused, “if you must come in search of me, wife. Perhaps I should put some of this restlessness of yours to good use? Hmm? What do you say?”

When Jane had simply scanned him with anxious eyes, he had scooped her up in his arms and carried her back into their bedchamber. Once there, he had undressed and washed without any of his usual ceremony, then joined her under the covers, where he had pulled her into his arms and held her very tightly. None of which allayed her sudden unnamed fears.

“Jane,” he had murmured against her brow, “you must never think ill of me if you can help it. And if you ever do find yourself disappointed in me …” He hesitated.

“What?”

“Then you must be generous and grant me some grace. We cannot all be as blameless, as you.”

“I am not, nor never have been blameless.”

“You are a paragon of virtue, compared to me.”

“Has something happened?” Jane had steeled herself to ask. “Something that I need to know about?”