Page 57 of Wed By Proxy

Mathilde turned to Guy and was surprised to see him watching her with a small smile playing about his lips. He leaned down, closing the gap between them. “Now the snow is melting fast,” he said quietly. “What say you to a ride into Wickhamford today?”

XXI

“That’s where I first set eyes on Destrian,” said Mathilde excitedly. She squeezed his hand and pointed to a tethering post.

Guy stared at the spot, an image of her being knocked to the ground flashing through his mind’s eye. When he saw her wince, he realized his pressure on her fingers was too hard and released them at once. “Was the carter’s accent from round these parts?” he asked casually.

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not very good with accents,” she admitted.

“If you ever see him again…” Guy had to struggle with himself to keep his tone even. “I want you to point him out to me.”

She turned her head and looked at him curiously. “Rob already blacked both his eyes,” she reminded him.

“You were thrown in a jail cell due to his false witness.” Even he could hear the bristling hostility in his words. “He kicked you,” he had trouble even speaking the words.

“Only to dislodge me from his ankle.” He turned incredulous eyes on her. “I could forgive him that, for I was biting him at the time,” she carried on fairly. “But I will never forget his ill use of Destrian. He was a cruel man.”

“He struck you. A woman.” He spoke the words with loathing.

“At the time, I was dressed as a boy,” she pointed out and seeing hot words spring to his tongue she raised his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. “But you’re right. He was loathsome. I wanted them to clap him in the stocks at the time, if you remember.”

“They released him the very next day,” Guy growled angrily.

“How do you know that?” Her tone was surprised.

“I made it my business to know.” At her startled look, he added. “I asked when I went to fetch the — to fetch Destrian for you,” he corrected himself painstakingly. They were walking now along the thoroughfare. He kept a firm hold on her through the mulling crowds. Wickhamford was busy on market day, and the streets were covered with melting snow.

A small smile played about her lips. “Would you have had him put in the stocks?” she asked hopefully, giving him a sidelong glance.

“I’m not sure what I would have done,” he admitted. Was it a hanging offense? In his book it was, but possibly not the lawmakers. Would that have mattered? He glanced down at her and found her watching him with a funny expression on her face. Did she find him too bloodthirsty? He cleared his throat. “Shall we walk through the marketplace?” he asked, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Immediately, she was all smiles.

“Oh yes! Let’s. When I was here before with Robin, our money was almost gone, and we couldn’t buy a thing.”

Immediately, an image rose up of her bedraggled and hungry. He drew in a sharp breath. “I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“A glazed pastry,” she said promptly, bringing a grudging smile to his lips. “There was a stall that had them, and they were fashioned like horns and filled with dried fruits.” She screwed up her face in remembrance. “It was on the cathedral side, I think.”

“Then, it’s this way.” He tugged her hand, turning to the left.

“Can we take some back for Rob and Prudie?” she asked excitedly.

“You’re sure Prudie would not take mortal offence?” he asked dryly. “At the notion a street hawker could make pastry preferable to her own baking.”

“Oh no. For did you not notice this morning, how she said that food made by another always tastes nicer?”

He grunted, a little surprised that she had remembered such a thing. Though, in truth, her servant had been rather outspoken that morn. He remembered Prudence’s disapproving talk of lemans. She did not seem to reflect on the position of her own mistress when freely voicing such thoughts. Luckily, Mathilde had barely seemed aware of the irony of her own maidservant holding such moralistic views. She had simply started chattering away with gossip about the Argent King’s proclivities.

Apparently, wherever she and Rob sprang from, they were well aware of such talk. Guy had frankly little interest in such things, but he had noticed with surprise that Waldon had been hanging off every word, and even asked for more detail! He remembered too, that Temur had reacted similarly on a previous occasion. It seemed it wasn’t just him that was affected by her winning ways. Perhaps he should have let Firmin spend some time with her before he’d carted her off to the hunting lodge. Then his steward might not be so hostile in his outlook.

He bought a bag of pastries, but before they had even left the stall, Mathilde was passing them out to beggars. “I thought you wanted them for Robin and Prudence,” he reminded her wryly.

“I swear Rob and I wore the same expression on our first visit,” she murmured, prompting him to turn back and purchase more.

They strolled among the rest of the stalls, Mathilde nibbling on her pastry. “It looks better than it tastes,” she admitted at last, and threw it to a passing dog who wolfed it down with a snap of his jaws. “Although if I were truly hungry, it would no doubt taste delicious.” His had tasted fine, but he did not deceive himself he had a discerning palate.

“Did you ever have a nurse when you were a child?” she asked suddenly. At his frown, she added. “That woman there, made me suddenly think of mine.” Following the direction of her gaze, he beheld a plump looking dame with a double-chin and faded blue eyes. Turning back to Mathilde, he saw her own eyes had misted over. “I do hope she’s well,” she said guiltily. “Poor old thing. It must have come as a terrible shock to her.” She sighed.

When he realized nothing more was forthcoming, he answered, “I’m sure I had a nurse. In fact,” he frowned. “If memory serves, a succession of them.”