Page 56 of The Consolation Prize

Looking at her dejected attitude, Una thought it better to let the subject drop. “I wonder if you could have some hot water sent up to my bedchamber, Rose. I believe I will retire early tonight.”

Rose looked grateful for the excuse to flee and ran off immediately. Una made her way along to her bedchamber holding her candle before her, while her dog followed along behind. She paused at one point, hearing footsteps above. She glanced up, but of course, could see nothing. Could Armand have taken his guest up to the attics? And if so, why?

It was about an hour later that he came to bed, carrying his own jug of washing water with him. Una lay quiet as he hurriedly stripped and washed and then climbed under the covers beside her, blowing out his candle.

“Are you asleep?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Una admitted, rolling onto her side to face him. “Is everything well?”

“Of course.” She heard the frown in his voice. “Why would it not be?”

She hesitated. “Did you … show Mr. Fulcher your strongroom?”

She heard the rustle of Armand’s pillow as though he’d raised his head. “Why do you ask?” His words sounded rather brisk and Una bit her lip, hoping she’d not offended him. “It’s just that, I hope you do not trust this man overmuch, Armand. Mr. Fulcher seems a very wily sort and you have such a sweet and sunny disposition. I do not want him to take advantage of you.”

A stunned silence met her words. Una peered anxiously into the darkness. She had offended him, she thought with a pang. She knew men could be rather sensitive about any perceived weaknesses. “You must understand that I do not say this as a reflection on your judgement,” she carried on quickly. “I just think you have a lovely nature and need to be on your guard.”

Again, she was met with blank silence. “Armand?”

“Una,” he groaned.

“I did not mean to imply—”

“Please don’t say anymore,” he begged. “I don’t know if my self-esteem could stand it.”

Una shifted toward him in alarm and reached out her hand to his face. “I have upset you,” she said, immediately contrite. She stroked his cheek. “Indeed, I meant no offense. You have been the best of husbands to me. I am sure you have known this Fulcher a good while and that he must have earned your trust somehow …” Her words trailed off as she thought of that shifty, untrustworthy face. “Perhaps I speak out of turn, ’tis only that I wish to urge caution, for I have come across men of Fulcher’s ilk and I do not think you appreciate—”

Armand caught her fingers against his face and held them there. “Una,” he said in a comfortably reassuring voice. “I am fully aware of the kind of man Fulcher is.”

He hesitated and Una found herself blurting out: “He stole your hat!”

“My hat?” she could hear the bewilderment in his voice at the turn the conversation had taken.

“The night you were attacked in Caer-Lyoness, do you remember? You lost the hat I made you. Your friend Fulcher is wearing it, bold as brass!”

Armand was silent a moment. “I don’t think that can be the same hat,” he said, rallying. “It looks nothing like I remember it.”

“Armand, I recognize my own handiwork! That is your hat and he sat through supper wearing it, at your own table. Quite shamelessly!” When he was silent, Una continued, aggrieved. “I do not mean to imply he was in league with those ruffians who set upon you, but you must admit that it looks very suspicious.” Was it her imagination or did Armand’s shoulders shake slightly?

“My love,” he said, and she was sure she could hear a thread of amusement running through his voice. “You are accusing an old and valued acquaintance of mine of being a hat thief.”

“Yes, I am!” Una flung at him. “Though, I wish I had not become diverted down this particular sidetrack, for ’tis a minor issue compared to my general misgivings about the man! In truth, I do not think you are at all wise to trust him with your secrets!”

Feeling flustered, Una struggled in vain to put some space between herself and Armand, but his arms closed about her to keep her where she was. Had he just called her his love?

“Shh, now Una, I won’t tease,” he said. “Let me be frank with you.” She stilled at once. “Sensible girl,” he said. “Now trust me to have some sense also. You are right, Fulcher has certain associations that would not bear up to close inspection. However, in this instance I mean to use that to my advantage.” Una’s ears pricked up and she waited patiently for his next words. “As you know, our fortune is ill-gotten. I have no doubt that several pieces could be traced back to their original owners. Selling them on will be difficult for us. It could even bring down the law on us as suspected murderers or thieves. I do not want any trail leading back to Lynwode or to us.” He waited expectantly.

“You mean to use Fulcher’s connections,” she said hesitantly. “To offload the stolen treasure?”

“And convert it into nice gold coins for us. Yes. Fulcher has dubious acquaintances in every city in Karadok. I can send him off with a sack of treasure and he will return in a month with however many bags of gold he received for them.”

Una considered this in silence. “He will, of course demand a share of the profits.”

“That is only fair. He will be taking considerable risk after all,” he pointed out.

“How do you know he will not cheat you by bringing back three bags when he received four?”

Armand pinched her backside. “I have already taken that into account when I negotiated his share. He is an excellent negotiator and will likely extract a far higher price for many pieces even than they deserve. No one ever gets the better of Fulcher in a deal,” he said dryly. “I know him of old, you see.”