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“Not quite,” he answered and rising from his chair, paper still in hand, and walking to the window. He stood still a moment and then turned to face them both. “I don’t think you realize what you have here, my lady.”

Fenella cleared her throat. “My father always said he had grounds for considerable recompense, should he have chosen to pursue it…”

Oswald gave a short laugh.

“But that is not why I am here,” she explained hastily. “I merely ask that you use your position to espouse my cause with my husband and…”

“Fenella,” Oswald cut in, shocking her by addressing her so familiarly. “According to this document, I am your husband.”

Gilbert made a strangled noise in his throat as Fenella stared at him, stunned.

“You must surely be mistaken, sir,” she stammered, forgetting his title altogether.

“There can be no mistake,” answered Oswald Vawdrey mildly.

“But – but that’s impossible!”

“I assure you, it is legally binding,” he said grimly and held the document up. “This is a marriage contract. Signed. Sealed. Dated.”

Her brother turned to her. “Did you know about this?” he hissed, in what he no doubt imagined to be an undertone.

“Don’t be ridiculous Gilbert! How could I? Why, I’ve been married to Ambrose for eight years!”

“I hate to contradict you, Fenella,” put in Oswald mildly. “But your marriage to Thane was not legal.”

Fenella reeled, shrinking back into her chair with a gasp.

Gilbert sprang up in agitation. “You’re telling me my sister is a bigamist?” he asked hoarsely.

Lord Vawdrey sat back down and poured himself a cup of wine to which he liberally added water. He looked at her quizzically and held the jug aloft.

“No, thank you,” she answered in horrified fascination. He looked so calm, while her hands were shaking so badly she was nearly spilling her cup which was only half-filled.

Gilbert wheeled around. “What if we burned it?” he demanded wildly.

Lord Vawdrey’s eyebrows rose. “Certainly not,” he retorted. “That would be quite reprehensible. And as Sir Jeoffrey - your father - stated, you are due some recompense.”

But what sort of recompense, wondered Fenella, breaking out into a cold sweat. A jail sentence? A spell in the stocks? A heavy fine?

“That’s not what he meant at all,” she objected weakly. “He thought – only that your family had not honored their promise…not that we were…” she broke off distractedly before rallying. “How could we be married, my lord? Your father wrote to mine, breaking off the agreement…”

“I was nineteen when this contract was signed,” Lord Vawdrey cut in, tapping his tunic. She realized he had already secured the document inside it and she hadn’t even seen him do it. “Three years later, my father had no grounds to attempt to nullify the contract on my behalf. He had no legal right, as I had already reached my majority of twenty-one.”

Fenella frowned at him. “Are you quite certain, my lord?” she asked feeling sick with anxiety. There was something about his steely calm that disturbed her. Why wasn’t he railing and disputing all this? Why wasn’t he cursing their family to perdition? Her feet itched to get out of this imposing room with its unpredictable master. She had no idea what to make of this man her betrothed had grown into. She did not know him at all. But then, she reminded herself, she’d never really known the boy either.

He smiled and Fenella almost shivered to see it. For it did not touch his eyes one bit. “I am quite certain,” he answered gravely. “You have been my legal wedded wife these last twelve years.”

**

Oswald shut the door behind him and breathed out. It seemed almost too good to be true. Now he had no need of a trumped-up case of consanguinity to rebuff the King’s absurd marriage plans. He had an impediment all of his own – an existing wife. A smile curled his lips which he hastily concealed when he saw Bryce blinking at him from the other side of the corridor. What a shame that Bryce was not the type to listen at doors. His predecessor Edwards would have had his ear glued to keyhole the entire time and within the hour the rumors would have started to circulate. Ah, how he missed dependable, treacherous Edwards.

“Ah, Bryce,” he said crooking his finger to summon him over. “I need you to make some discreet enquiry for me, to find out if Sir Ambrose Thane’s remarriage has yet taken place.”

Bryce’s eyes goggled. “Yes, my lord. He applied to marry as soon as ‘twas possible. The King granted this and the use of the Lady Chapel in the west wing.” He hesitated. “Is there some lawful impediment that’s come to light?” he asked hopefully.

“Nothing of that nature. I need to run a small errand myself, so if you could nip along to the Lady Chapel and see that the ceremony is completed, that would be most useful. You need do nothing, merely hang back until you have confirmation it is done and dusted.” If Thane was safely remarried then it might help reconcile Fenella to their own wedded state, he reasoned.

Bryce looked alarmed. “Should I send word to the King, my lord?”