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Fen gave a start of surprise at this. She had once pretended that the old ring her father gave her was her betrothal ring. “I was only twelve,” she pointed out. “And I seem to remember you were pretending to be a giant devouring the bones of villagers. You kept making squeaky voices, begging for their lives as you ate your meat.”

Roland looked annoyed. “I was an ogre,” he said indignantly. “Devouring the bones of the innocent.”

“Still, I’m impressed you even remember,” said Fen. “It was so long ago.”

“My memory is actually pretty good, despite the fact I’m considered the family blockhead,” he said sourly.

“Are you the family blockhead?” Fen tipped her head and considered him a while. “Why would anyone think so?”

Roland tsked under his breath with annoyance. He held up three fingers. “Mason married money and a title,” he said lowering one. “Oswald is a slithering snake at court,” he lowered a second. “And I have a strong sword arm,” he said flatly.

“‘Slithering snake’?” repeated Fen feeling confused.

“Gods, you’re stupid,” said Roland crossly. “Think about it. All the strange, anonymous

men that appear to do his bidding, the ones that all look interchangeable?” He looked at her expectantly.

Fen thought of the two men who had bought Bors to her. Her dog she noticed, instead of defending her honor, was currently sat under Roland’s chair getting his ear scratched, with a look of bliss on his face.

“Do you even know what Oswald does at court?” Roland asked impatiently. He switched to Bors’ other ear.

Fen flushed. “He is the King’s chief advisor,” she said uncertainly.

“Among other things,” snorted Roland. “Gods, you’re as bad as Mason. Both of you completely blind where Oswald’s concerned, taking everything he says on face value.”

“Well,” said Fen, suddenly feeling fed up with Roland’s insults. “Cheer up. If I’m so stupid maybe I will replace you as family blockhead.”

Roland’s head snapped up, but before he had a chance to respond, the bedroom door opened and Lord Vawdrey strode out.

**

Fenella stole a nervous glance up at Lord Vawdrey’s profile, but his handsome profile did not invite conversation. He seemed a little cold toward her, she thought in dismay. His strides were long and she was starting to puff as she hurried to keep up with him as they made their way along the high-ceiling corridors. She clung to his arm and hoped her exposed bosom wasn’t turning to goose-flesh. At least her hot face was getting a chance to cool down from the icy draughts blasting along the stone flagstone floors.

“My lord,” she faltered, at last forced to admit she was getting a stitch in her side. “Could we slacken the pace a little. It is hard to catch my breath in this dress and I am having to take five steps to your every one.”

He slowed at once and looked down at her with a frown. “Let us hope the dresses signor Pezzini makes will not be so tight,” he said and Fen felt mortified.

She gulped. “I expect they will fit better. Jenny said I am a lot more corpulent than Lady Sumner,” she said and felt her eyes sting.

“Corpulent is not the word I would use,” he said in a clipped voice. “Did you not look in the glass? Or do you want me to pay you a compliment?” Fen’s lip wobbled and he seemed to catch himself. “Fenella…”

“No, no, it’s nothing,” she said hastily. “I did not expect – that is – I know I am not-”

Voices and footsteps were approaching and she heard Oswald curse under his breath. He drew her backwards into a stone alcove where they were hidden in shadow. Fen sucked in a surprised breath and stifled a gasp as he pushed up against her, until the footsteps had passed. Fen did not recognize the voices, but then that was not surprising. She barely knew a soul at court. Her heart raced and she held her breath. Oswald Vawdrey did not speak for a moment and when he did his voice was low and gravelly. “Fenella, under no circumstances are you to let yourself be alone with any other men when I am not in the vicinity. I don’t care if you have to pretend to fall in a fainting fit, do not allow yourself to be sequestered by any other males - even the King. Do you understand?”

She blinked up at him. She could imagine nothing less likely. The King had even ordered her out of his presence in disgust the day before. But even in the shadows, she could make out the tight look on his face so she nodded. “Very well, my lord.”

He breathed out a ragged breath, then stepped sharply back, pulling her with him.

“My Lord Vawdrey!” exclaimed a surprised, yet cultured voice.

Fenella watched a look of annoyance pass briefly over her husband’s face, before it smoothed out into a perfect expression of urbanity. “My Lady Sumner,” he said coolly and bowed before turning to her companion. “Lord Bardulf.” He bowed again, but this time not so deeply.

The other man looked highly amused. “But who is this?” he said turning deliberately to Fenella and letting his lazy gaze travel over her. “Charming creature, and why were you…?” he turned back to look at the alcove from which they had emerged.

“Really, Bardulf,” murmured Lady Sumner disapprovingly. She was very respectable-looking and nothing like Fen had anticipated. She placed an elegant hand on her very white throat and averted her eyes as if confronted with something indecent.

To her surprise, Fen felt Oswald’s hand slide about her waist and draw her closer to his side. “This is my wife, the Countess Vawdrey,” he said in measured tones. Fen felt the gazes of the other two snap to her in surprise. Lady Sumner’s mouth fell open. Bardulf collected himself first and gave her a deep bow. “Fenella,” Oswald continued. “This is Viscount Bardulf and Lady Anne Sumner.”