Page 49 of Wed By Proxy

Green? Guy glanced at her warily, unsure of her meaning.

“Does Tancred not eat nuts?” Mathilde interrupted them suddenly. Guy noticed the bird was now perched on the bowl and staring down at the nuts curiously.

Old Helga regarded her a moment. “Why don’t you offer him one betwixt your fingers, dearie?” she suggested.

Guy’s hand shot out to catch Mathilde’s, before she could even reach for it. “Never fear,” he said darkly. “He’d have her fingers off, soon as look at her.”

Old Helga went off into a peal of laughter, slapping her scrawny thigh. “Tancred’s mellowed some since you last saw him, my lord.”

“I highly doubt that.” Guy eyed the malevolent looking bird, who gazed steadily back at him.

“He’s a very fine bird,” said Mathilde, who was clearly no judge of character.

“Aye, that he is.” The old woman nodded, selecting a nut and passing it up casually to Tancred. He cracked the shell between his beak in an instant and devoured the tasty nut.

“Don’t squander it,” said Old Helga suddenly, in a different voice this time, low and portentous. Guy started, his skin breaking out in goosebumps. When he looked at her, he found her regarding him steadily. He shot a quick look at Mathilde, but she was absorbed watching Tancred who had now jumped down from the witch’s shoulder to select another nut.

“The road has forked,” Helga continued in the same heavy tone. “And you have a chance to deviate from the path that was laid out before you by another man’s hand.”

Guy’s eyebrows snapped together. “I don’t follow your meaning, old woman.”

“Your kind never does. Until it’s almost too late.” Her retort was sharp, annoyed even. She wasn’t using her seer’s voice anymore, but her regular one. What man? pondered Guy. The king’s man, Oswald Vawdrey, who had forced his hand and made him sign that marriage contract? Or his father? “Just the same as the old one,” she said bitterly. “Just as stubborn. He never listened.” She threw him a sharp look. “Did he tell you why he banished me from Acton March?”

“My father?” he asked startled. “Nay.”

She gave a brief nod. “Didn’t like the reading I gave him. Didn’t want the truth.” She huffed.

Guy regarded her warily, remembering what he’d been told. She had prophesized something his father had not appreciated. “What did you tell him? That the north would fall?” he guessed shrewdly.

She gave a crack of laughter. “Even I would not be so foolhardy as to tell a zealot that his cause was a lost one.”

“What then?” He was genuinely curious.

She gave a small smile. “What if I told you it concerned the fate of his precious son and heir?” she asked curiously.

“My fate?” She nodded slowly. “I survived the war,” he said pointedly. “He should have been contented with that. Many from these parts were not so fortunate.”

She shrugged. “Discontented men are seldom grateful.”

He looked at her sharply. Did her words contain a rebuke for him? He shifted again, uneasily. “Any ban from our hall is hereby revoked,” he said firmly. “You have been missed on feast days.” He flushed slightly, thinking of his own lack of celebrations. His tenants and household had perhaps reason to feel hard-used these past few years since he had taken over the reins. He needed to do better.

She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement of his words. “Fairly spoken,” she muttered. “May you never regret your words.”

Why should he? Guy frowned, but already Helga had turned back to Mathilde.

The rest of the afternoon passed far too quickly. Guy escorted Mathilde back to the lodge and reluctantly returned home before supper. He had managed, for the most part, to push from his mind the fact his unwanted house guests were arriving today. Still, he supposed he ought to be present for supper at least, though the thought gave him very little pleasure. Because you’d rather be at the lodge, a small voice whispered in his ear. With her. He didn’t even bother denying it to himself. Leaving her was starting to be a wrench. The truth was, he would rather neglect his duties playing truant with his mistress, than dutifully take up the role of host to his guests. The thought unnerved him, he had always put duty first in the past. His father would have been appalled at such behavior.

He made his way through the manor quickly, intent on escaping anyone’s notice before he was ready. By some miracle he actually managed to reach his study without anyone hindering him. Swinging back the door to his safe haven, he received his first unwelcome surprise. Someone had invaded his private space. Guy checked on the threshold. Julia Allworthy stood at his window, gazing out, showing her perfect profile with its straight nose and high, pure brow. Silently he cursed Firmin for not warning him she was in his study. Even as he started to back out of the room on silent feet, she turned suddenly, catching sight of him.

“Guy!” she cried in her full-bodied voice. “How wonderful!” She took several impetuous steps toward him, before halting, biting her lip and looking him up and down in seeming admiration. “How well you look!”

She clasped her hands in front of her like a nun at prayer. Nothing else about her was remotely nunlike. She wore a plum velvet gown with gold trim and her rich auburn hair dressed high on her head and studded with jeweled pins and a gauzy veil which did nothing to conceal her long swanlike neck. Guy turned around wondering who else was in the room to benefit from this display, but he was the only other occupant. Had she always spoken so loudly? If she were a man, you would say she had a booming voice. He wasn’t sure what you called it in a woman. Julia advanced even closer, her voice turning intimate and confiding.

“You needn’t fear, we are quite alone,” she said in a low voice that vibrated with emotion and extended a hand toward him to kiss.

Guy frowned at her. “Why should I fear seeing you in company?” he asked, pressing a perfunctory kiss on the back of her hand. For some reason there was a floaty scarf dangling pointlessly from her fingers that distracted him a moment. “You’re a guest in my house.”

Julia gave a delighted laugh. “How droll you are Guy. I see you have not changed.” She sighed. “How comforting that is, to one such as I, displaced and in exile.”