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Fenella stared at that. Four or five years?
He smiled wryly at her surprise. “You see? I will hardly be under-foot, disturbing your daily routine. You will only be a few miles from your childhood home. How many brides have that self-same luxury? Your friends and neighbors will all remain the same. Your brother will be close at hand and after all, Gilbert may marry one day,” he said mildly. “With your own household, your position as head of it will be secure.”
That was true enough. As an unmarried spinster dependent on her brother, her position was just as precarious as that of a divorced wife. She swallowed. Her head was reeling. Every word he uttered made sense. But how could she be contemplating such a thing? She fixed a look of pained intensity on her face. “But what about my things?”
“Things?”
She frowned. “My clothes. My...my books. My lute.” She had come to a halt.
Oswald smiled at such a trivial concern. “It is my place to furnish your needs now,” he pointed out.
“My father bought my lute.”
“I am sure Gilbert can have it sent over to Vawdrey Keep to wait for you there,” he pointed out mildly.
She colored up at his tone. “Oh...of course. Tis only...”
“Yes?” he spoke a little sharper than he had heretofore, making her jump.
“I-I've considered Ambrose Thane to be my legally wedded husband for eight years, my lord,” she started awkwardly. “It will take me some time-,” Her face was turning crimson under his close regard. “To consider another man in that role...” Her words trailed off miserably. “To transfer my affections and loyalty so quickly...”
He gave a brief wave of his hand. “That will all happen in due course, I am sure.”
“It will?” Her eyes fixed on him in pained regard.
He shrugged. “People re-marry all the time Fenella.”
“Yes, but usually because they have been widowed. And your position is so much more elevated than Ambrose’s was...” her words tapered off desperately. “Will you not have many other requirements of your countess? Acting as hostess, to all the dignitaries you need to entertain? I don’t know the social etiquette around so many noble-folk. I would not know where to even start!”
“Fenella,” he said again taking her hand in his. “You are my wife and I will explain to the King that we are in truth, married.”
“I never intended for this to happen, my lord,” she said wretchedly, staring down at their hands. “This must be a great inconvenience to you.” She blinked rapidly in an effort to dissipate any gathering tears.
Oswald Vawdrey looked momentarily taken aback. “I see I shall have to be frank with you,” he said, taking her both her hands in his now. He pressed down lightly on her fingers. “It really isn’t inconvenient, you know. In fact, quite the opposite. There are reasons why it will be expedient for me to be married at this point in time.”
She held her breath, wondering what on earth could make it convenient for him to have a wife in existence.
“It's complicated,” he said seeing the question in her eyes. “Court life is fraught with difficulties and political pitfalls.”
“I see,” she said when nothing else was forthcoming. Of course, she saw no such thing. Then a sudden thought struck her. “Are you engaged to another lady presently?” she blurted, then bit her lip.
"Certainly not," he answered shortly. “I haven't been engaged to anyone for years.” Well, that was something in any event. Without even taking his eyes off her, he said in a louder, carrying voice. “I wonder if I could ask you to wait outside for us a moment, Gilbert. We will be with you shortly.”
To her surprise she heard Gil’s footfalls heading away from them and the sound of the door, but when she tried to turn her head to see, Oswald Vawdrey's hand flew to her jaw, keeping her face turned toward him. “Are you persuaded Fenella?” he asked quietly. “I assure you I will not be a demanding husband. You have nothing to fear from me on that score.”
Fenella sat immobile, surprised as much by his touch as the startling words. So, he was offering her a marriage in name only! She experienced a moment of light-headed relief and gulped, lowered her eyes and nodded.
“I'll need words to strike the bargain,” he said gently.
“Aye, my lord,” she said huskily and could have sworn his green eyes gleamed.
“There's my good girl.” He raised one of her hands and kissed it lightly on the back of her fingers. And, for a moment, she could almost have imagined herself to be a foolish twelve year old again, for her head swam and she felt quite giddy.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a numbed blur of heartache and mortification. Lord Vawdrey and Gilbert had spent the best part of an hour pouring over the marital document and discussing the terms and conditions that needed to be fulfilled. Then the men had partaken of a meal of roast meats and ale. She’d not been able to eat more than a mouthful, though she’d made a great play with the napkin and sipping on her watered-down wine. The color in her cheeks ebbed and flowed as she thought of all the neighbors back home and what they’d say when Ambrose returned with a completely different wife in tow. And what would the servants think when she never returned? Her throat ached, though whether with unshed tears or the beginning of a sore throat she could not say. At some point, she raised from her stupor to clutch Oswald’s sleeve and tell him about her dog.
“My dear, that is no problem. We can simply have him sent to Vawdrey Keep. There’s a whole pack of dogs there he can join,” said Oswald easily.
“Send him to a strange house? Full of strangers?” she croaked. “No, no. I need him with me!” Her fingers tightened on his sleeve as she stared at him intently trying to make him understand. For some reason, she felt like she was trying to run through fog. Her brain felt dull and stupid.
