Page 111 of His Forsaken Bride

“When did he half-die?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “The battle of Adarva. He was certainly grievously injured.” She thought of his mangled shoulder blade. “He probably almost died.”

Cuthbert nodded thoughtfully. “I never heard him speak of that tale.”

“No-one has,” said Fen. “Except me.”

They sat a moment in companionable silence, the logs crackling in the hearth. Bors whined and the spell was broken. “I promised to walk him with my friend Bess at five o’clock,” said Fen, listening to the bell clang in the courtyard.

Cuthbert jumped out of his chair. “I’ll go and deliver your note, milady.”

“Thank you Cuthbert.”

She couldn’t quite shake off the strange mood that had descended on her until she emerged into the vestibule that separated the outer and the inner courtyard and felt a blast of icy cold air. Drawing her cloak around her, she heard Bess’s booming voice before she could spot her friend. Three prancing hounds preceded her, sleek and rippling with muscle. Bors eyed them with tolerance as they gamboled around him.

“Hah, there you are,” Bess hailed her heartily, as she sailed around the corner in a large orange cloak. “I’ve only bought the bitches with me this evening. Didn’t think your old boy would appreciate the young bucks nipping at his heels, hey?” She jostled Fen in the side good-naturedly.

“That is a kindness I’m sure he appreciates.”

“Looking a little peaky, if you don’t mind me saying so Lady Fen,” Bess commented as they crossed the first courtyard. “You been sat being painted all day long?” she sucked in her cheeks. “Not wise to be sat still so long. All your black bile will sink to the bottom of your spleen and make you melancholic.” Her brown curls bounced as she made this pronouncement, and her velvet feathered cap almost slipped off her head.

Fen’s eyes widened. “Oh, I shouldn’t want that. But I only sat for signor Arnotti this morning.”

“Ah, I’m glad to hear it,” said Bess. “Though I understand your portrait is coming along very nicely now, and signor Arnotti spends a good deal of time on it in his studio.”

Fen was surprised. She did not find the artist very forthcoming about his progress. “That is heartening to hear,” she said. “I understand you remain unpersuaded with regards to having your own portrait done.”

“He told you that, did he?” asked Bess, not sounding very pleased and turning even ruddier in color.

“Oh no,” Fen hastened to explain. “’Twas Eden who told me, not signor Arnotti.”

“Humph,” said Bess, looking somewhat mollified. “Got a finger in every pie that girl.”

“She’s certainly very busy about court.”

“Some would say too much so,” snapped Bess. Then she seemed to remember herself. “Ho Clementine!” she bellowed and her white hound came bounding back. “Not too far ahead of the pack, you hussy!” Clementine dove off again to catch up with Bors and the others.

Fen watched her friend covertly. Whilst Bess was usually an eccentric character, she seemed a little more on edge today, she thought. “And how is Padraig?” she asked after Bess’s oldest and most beloved dog. “I understand his likeness on the canvas was most masterfully done.”

Bess inclined her head. “With a profile as noble as Padraig’s you could scarcely fail to produce a work of startling beauty,” she boasted. “I daresay,” she added with a short laugh. “That even a second-rate artist could do a passable job with such a fine subject.”

“I daresay,” agreed Fen.

“Not that I’m saying he is second rate,” added Bess self-consciously. “Far from it. From what I have seen in his studios his work is very fine.”

“You have been to his studio?” asked Fen with interest.

Bess pulled up short. “And why shouldn’t I?” she asked.

Fen gazed at her in amazement. “No reason at all. I was merely making conversation.”

Bess grunted. “You may depend on it that busybody Miss Eden Montmayne has been there prodding and poking among the canvases!” She jutted out her chin aggressively and Fen almost wished she had not arranged to meet her.

“She does a lot of work espousing artists for patrons,” she said mildly.

“Hah!” was all Bess answered. “Perhaps she’d do better to apply her energies to other purposes, such as finding a husband.”

“Well, if she had,” said Fen a little sharply. “Then you or I would not be having our paintings done.”