Page 4 of His Forsaken Bride

It was with a sour look on his handsome face that Oswald watched Viscount Bardulf saunter into the room in a ridiculous purple doublet with slashed sleeves revealing a pale lavender silk undershirt. Bardulf looked every inch the frivolous courtier, but Oswald knew him better than that. Unfortunately. He dragged a blank sheet of parchment across to cover his hand-written document, an action which Bardulf noticed with a smirk.

“My dear Vawdrey,” he greeted him languidly and drifted over to the window to look out at the quadrangle. “What an industrious fellow you are. Even at this hour.”

“As you see,” murmured Oswald, sitting back in his chair. He knew from experience that it was pointless trying to rush the scented and curled Bardulf, who would only come to the point of his visit as and when it suited him.

“Smells of candle wax in here. Someone's been working long past the midnight hour,” he said fiddling with the braided curtain cord. “I hope the King appreciates your devotion to his cause.”

Oswald didn't comment. The King had given him an earldom last month for his service, as well everyone knew. The fact was, that Bardulf was the Queen's creature as well as her countryman. No doubt Queen Armenal was behind this little visit. He waited patiently as Bardulf approached and threw himself down in the chair Bryce had so recently vacated.

“"Is this a social visit?” asked Oswald. “Shall I ring for honey-cakes?”

Bardulf smiled, but did not answer. “Your new assistant looks harried,” he said. “Probably realized what he's let himself in for, poor fellow.”

Oswald was inclined to agree. He shrugged. “Junior positions often involve long hours,” he said vaguely.

Bardulf tutted. “Such a pity about Edwards,” he said lightly. “He seemed so well-suited to the job.”

Oswald's gaze narrowed. “Yes, a great pity,” he agreed dryly. Edwards had been lucky to be dismissed with his head on his shoulders. As well Bardulf knew.

“A sad business,” Bardulf sighed inspecting his cuffs.

“Indeed.”

“Loose tongues can be so troublesome at court,” Bardulf let his gaze wander around the office as he kept his tone casual. “Even a little harmless gossip can take on sinister undertones if it involves a significant person. And you my dear Vawdrey, are most definitely a significant person.” His eyes snapped back to Oswald with an unmistakable message in their depths.

“This is true,” agreed Oswald smoothly. He spread his hands wide “But I am hardly a subject for gossip. A dull, worthy fellow such as myself.”

Bardulf smiled, but this time he looked genuinely amused. “The Queen has always found you most fascinating. And a little sinister,” he added softly. “The Vawdrey wolf, who creeps among the sheep. You are surprised at that? But you should never underestimate the Queen, my friend.”

“I have always greatly admired her majesty's intelligence.” Which was nothing less than the truth. Even if he was often on opposing sides to her at Court. In all honesty, the King and Queen were frequently engaged in an unspoken power struggle. And he was the King's creature, as much as Bardulf was the Queen's. Still, they sometimes found themselves ranged on the same side, united against a common enemy. He wondered if this was one such occasion. After all, why else would Bardulf be warning him? He waited patiently.

“Intelligence,” mused Bardulf. “Is that not a word that spy-masters use also?” He looked delighted with himself for making the connection. “But I keep you from your important work for the Crown,” he said regretfully, motioning toward the document on Oswald's desk.

“Not at all,” lied Oswald.

“You are too polite. I know your time is valuable, unlike mine,” said Bardulf, gently shaking his head as he rose from the chair and sauntered over to the bookcase. “Allow me to extend my congratulations on your earldom,” said Bardulf blandly. “What a shame Baron Vawdrey did not live to see your elevation.”

Oswald shrugged. “He knew it was on the cards.”

“One son a duke and the other an earl. What an illustrious family!” drawled Bardulf. “And resourceful too, as neither of you were born into those titles.”

Oswald smiled, refusing to be drawn. “Perhaps the Queen can put in a word for you at some point,” he suggested blandly.

Bardulf seemed to consider this as he ran his finger down the spines of several leather-bound tomes. “Alas, I fear the price she might demand would be higher than I’m prepared to pay.”

“Indeed?” Oswald’s eyebrows rose. Bardulf’s tone surprised him. He sounded sincere for once. “I am sure you put in many hours of loyal service,” he murmured automatically as his brain scrambled.

Bardulf cocked his head to one side. “Yes,” he agreed. “But I am not willing to put my domestic life at the Queen’s disposal.”

“Domestic life?” repeated Oswald. “You spend your life in court quarters, as do I.”

“Bachelor quarters,” Bardulf agreed with him swiftly.

Oswald’s frown became more pronounced as he began to get a deep feeling of unease. “You are considering matrimony?” he asked carefully.

“Good gods, no!” Bardulf gave an elaborate shudder and returned to the seat opposite him.

Oswald regarded him steadily as Bardulf reached across the desk to pick up a paperweight of colored glass.