Page 13 of An Ill-Made Match

“Maybe she’s given us the slip?” suggested Cuthbert scratching his head. “Shall I go and look?”

“You most certainly will not!” Roland flared. He himself had gone in search of her, and after fruitlessly calling her name, had proceeded cautiously, only to find her curled up fast asleep in the dirt. When he had shaken her awake she had looked so startled to see him that he had almost expected her to slap his face.

She was wilting in the saddle before him now, and truth be told he was not much better. The arm he had wrapped around her waist was the only thing he felt certain of, and the jolting horse beneath him. He was just wondering how to broach the subject with his brothers, when Oswald pointed out an inn along the road. “That’s where we’ll put you lovebirds up for the night,” he said with satisfaction.

“What?” Roland turned in his saddle to squint at his brothers. “Where will you be?”

“We’ll carry on to Caer-Lyoness,” said Mason.

“We need to pave the way before your return, Roland,” said Oswald with a meaningful look. “Break the news at court. Smooth things over as it were with the King.” Roland blinked at him. “You’re his champion, after all,” Oswald reminded him. “It’s a courtesy to ask permission before marrying.” He glanced at Eden quickly and lowered his voice. “The Queen will also need appeasing.”

Roland frowned. “The deed is done,” he said. “What purpose is there to cutting up rough about it?”

Oswald waved a hand airily. “You know how royals are. As you say, it is mostly tokenistic, but you may have some forfeit or penance to perform before the Queen is reconciled to her favorite’s wedded state.”

Roland glanced down at Eden’s dark head, resting against his chest. She’d never dream of doing such a thing, unless she was in a deep slumber. “If there’s a price, I’ll pay it,” he said with casual indifference.

“Admirable,” responded Oswald briskly. “Now, let us get you settled into your own chamber forthwith. Once we’ve got you settled, we can go and spread the happy tidings.”

Roland peered at his brother suspiciously, but there wasn’t even an ironic inflection in his voice. You could tell Oswald was a leading courtier and powerful politician, damn his eyes. “What will you tell everyone?” he asked with sudden unease.

“That your affections were engaged elsewhere, and the plans were duly altered,” his brother replied swiftly.

Mason snorted. “We’d best get in fast, before that dolt Sir Christopher starts spreading his version.”

“That is my intention,” said Oswald dryly. “Never fear, we shall have Fenella and Linnet espouse Eden’s cause at court. They will be keen to admit their newest sister-in-law into their circle.”

“Fenella is not long out of the delivery bed,” Mason reminded him. “After bearing your twin sons.”

“Well, I was expecting Linnet to carry out the lion’s share of work at court,” admitted Oswald. “But Fenella is lately receiving guests at home. Lady Schaeffer visits with us almost daily. She is proving to be a most devoted godmother,” his tone was rather dry.

Mason laughed. “You needn’t sound so happy about it. Now you’ve children of your own, you’ll find it much harder to monopolize your wife’s attention. You’d best get used to it.”

“I don’t mind sharing her with my boys,” said Oswald. “But Hester Schaeffer always swore she detested children! Now I find her fawning over them at all hours!” Mason chuckled again. “Meldon’s even worse!” complained Oswald, about his aged manservant. “I caught him singing to them the other night. Singing!”

Roland found his eyes drifting shut as his brothers rambled on about domestic matters, involving their offspring.

“Roland!” He opened his eyes. “We’re here. Pass her down.” Mason had his arms reaching up for Eden, and begrudgingly, Roland eased her off the horse and into his brother’s grasp.

“Where’s Oswald?” Roland asked, dismounting and peering around, as Cuthbert led the horse toward the stables.

“Gone in ahead, to secure you a room.”

“Oh. Pass her to me,” he said, but Eden was already struggling to be put down. Mason set her on her feet and Roland passed an arm around her waist. She suffered this, but he noticed the faint color that spread to her cheeks. At least her pallor was improving.

They made their way toward the inn, and for Roland every step was an effort. He recognized Eden was not doing much better than him. She almost tripped on the threshold, but his arm steadied her. Oswald greeted them, directing them toward the stairs.

“One moment, sirs!” cried a concerned looking patron rushing forward. “But the lady is not ill, is she?”

“Ill?” repeated Oswald in seeming surprise. “No, no, my good man. These are newly-weds and only suffering from an excess of good spirits.”

The landlord peered at them doubtfully one after the other. “Your pardon, sirs,” he said after letting his eyes roam over their pale, tired faces. “Only I did hear,” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s there’s summer plague in some parts.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder. “An honest businessman can’t be too careful.”

“Understood,” Oswald agreed genially and slapped him on the back. “But as you can see their countenances are completely unblemished.”

“Indeed, milord, indeed,” he said with a bow. “I can see that now.”

“What they desire from you, good sir, is some washing water for their travel dirt, some repast for their empty stomachs and the key to secure their room. We shall be leaving their squire to attend to their horses. No doubt, you can supply him with bed and board when he comes in.”