Page 41 of His Forsaken Bride

“Then we must certainly do so,” said Fen with a smile. “I would appreciate the help in navigating some of the more thorny and treacherous paths.”

They shared a look and Lady Schaeffer raised her goblet to toast her silently.

Suddenly Fen felt a whole lot more optimistic about the possibility of making friends at court. She glanced toward Oswald to see if he had noticed their exchange, but he was still looking remote and her heart sank a little further. Resolutely, she managed to avoid looking anywhere in the vicinity of the Thanes for the next two hours while the remaining four courses were served. Not just for her husband’s sake, she thought, but for her own. She wouldn’t give Lady Colleen the satisfaction of thinking her defeated. She needed to remember that her behavior reflected on her marriage. She had to behave in a fitting way for an earl’s wife. It was the least she could do for her new husband after everything he had done for her.

On the way back to their rooms afterward she tried to speak to him about the Schaeffers but he wouldn’t be drawn into conversation with her and answered only briefly and dismissively. As soon as he had escorted her inside, he made for their bedroom and feeling uneasy, Fen followed him. He was moving around the room picking up various objects including a change of clothing.

“Where are you going?” she asked in alarm. “Are you leaving for somewhere?”

He didn’t answer her, but turned back to the large chest where he kept his tunics. Fen hurried around the bed and laid her hand on his forearm. “Please, my lord,” she said. “I can explain why I was so distracted.”

“I’m not interested, Fenella.” His words were entirely devoid of tone and he looked pointedly down at her hand waiting for her to remove it.

Instead of loosening her grip on his arm, she tightened it. “She was wearing my necklace,” she blurted and could not help the tears which sprang to her eyes. “Which was why I was staring. They were my mother’s pearls. Ambrose must have given them to her.” She couldn’t keep the emotion from her voice or the tears which trickled down her cheeks as quickly as she brushed them away.

Oswald’s gaze snapped to hers. “What did you say?” he said softly.

“My mother’s pearls,” she repeated earnestly. “I could see quite plainly that’s what she was wearing. And – and-” she broke off, taking a deep breath.

“And?” he repeated sharply.

“And she knew, I could tell – and – she didn’t care, or rather, she was glad of the fact,” Fen broke off with a sob.

Oswald stood very still for a moment and then suddenly dropped his pile of clothes with a sharp exclamation and made for the bedroom door. Fen watched him with an open mouth as he disappeared out of it. “Wait,” she called weakly. “Where are you going?” She ran after him to find him exiting the main door to their apartments. “My Lord?” The door slammed shut after him and Fen stood dazedly at it a moment. Where had he gone?

She retraced her steps slowly back their bedroom and picked up his discarded clothes, returning them neatly to his clothing chest. The fire had already been made up in the bedroom and a pitcher of still warm water was on the side awaiting their return. Loath to waste it, she poured half of it in the bowl, stripped down to her shift and had a good wash. She put away her jewelry into the drawer, took the pins out of her hair, re-braided it and climbed into the bed. She was just debating blowing out the candles on her side when she heard the outer door swing open and footsteps heading toward her. Sitting up, Fen watched Oswald stride through the door carrying something in his hands. He walked right round to her side of the bed, opened the lid of a wooden box and emptied the contents onto the bedclothes in front of her. It was her jewelry. Fen stared at it. The pearl necklace sat at the top of the heap. Then she looked up at Oswald and moistened her lips. “How did you-?”

He held up a finger halting her words. “I want you to go through this pile and separate what is yours, from before your travesty of a marriage with Thane. Then I want you to make a pile of what he bought for you, which we will be returning to his legally wedded wife. Is that clear?”

Fen nodded.

“Now Fenella,” he added. “I want you to do it now.” His words could cut glass.

She immediately scooped up her pearls, a tiny golden key, a pewter pilgrim’s token she had bought once on a trip to Hawkesbridge and a bone ring carved in the shape of a bear’s head that her father had given her on her tenth birthday. In the second pile she put a round silver brooch pin, a brass circlet to wear over your head-veil and a leather belt with brass castings at the end. The second pile she pushed toward Oswald.

“These were from Ambrose,” she said.

Oswald held up the wooden box. “And this?” he asked.

“That was his mother’s,” she said.

Oswald swept the three items back into the box. “I’ll return these now,” he said grimly.

Fen nodded and watched as he exited the room in long purposeful strides. Then she opened her hand to look thoughtfully at her returned things. ‘Your travesty of a marriage with Thane’ he had said, rather bitingly. And perhaps he had a point. After all, no husband who had ever respected her, let alone ever cared for her would have sat idly by while she was slighted like that. Oswald Vawdrey had not sat by, she reflected, drawing in a shaky breath. He had restored her belongings to her. She slid from the bed and added her three items to the drawer with her new adornments. She felt strangely calm now and determined to do better; to do right by her new husband. There would be no more tears for her old one, she vowed. She was Countess Vawdrey. And she needed to start acting like it so Oswald could be proud of her.

When he returned mere moments later she was back under the covers awaiting his return. She waited silently as he stripped to the waist and washed and then slid into the other side of the bed. There was perfect silence between them for a moment. Then Fenella rolled onto her side facing him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he warned her.

“Very well, husband.”

That seemed to silence him a moment. Fen blushed in the darkness, knowing full well she had never addressed him as that before.

“Next time,” he said tightly. “I want you to simply tell me from the outset whatever is troubling you. I don’t like misjudging you.”

Fen thought about this a moment, weighing up his words. “Even if it’s beneath your notice?” she asked in a small voice.

“If it’s regarding you, then it isn’t beneath my notice,” he answered shortly.