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"What else?" asked Oswald quietly.

Fen thought a moment. She didn't want to make him angry, but she didn't want to lie to her husband either. "He also held me responsible for turning his sister Orla against his new wife," she said with a shrug.

She thought he became a very tiny bit less stiff, but she was not sure if that was just down to her wishful thinking. Finally, she could take it no longer and added, "I told him his opinion was no longer of any import to me." His eyes locked on hers as if measuring the veracity of her words.

"That's one in his eye," said Roland with a short laugh. "What said he to that?"

Fen kept her gaze on Oswald, but he also seemed to be waiting for her response. "He said he found my attitude unnatural," she admitted. "And outrageous."

"Pompous ass," snorted Roland.

"But, the most important thing," said Fenella looking straight at her husband. "Was that I found I simply did not care what he thought. And Lady Schaeffer backed me up when I made it clear to Sir Ambrose that you would not appreciate him accosting me."

"I do not appreciate it," said Oswald tautly. "It seems I must have needs have a conversation with Thane to clarify this point."

"Oh but - is that really necessary?"

Roland caught her eye and gave a quick shake of his head in warning.

"'Tis only," she added hastily. "That I should not like a rumor to start that I am attempting to sabotage his career, out of spite." She could see that Oswald's lips had thinned with displeasure. "This place seems a breeding ground for the oddest rumors," she added lamely as a scuffle on the door announced that Meldon had arrived with their supper.

The door opened and both he and Trudy entered bearing trays of roasted meat and vegetables. “Your victuals!” he announced loudly. He had no sooner set down his tray then he started grumbling about Roland’s armor strewn about the place. “Not fit for man nor beast!” he finished roundly, as Fen helped Trudy to set hers down, and then carried the chest plate and shield across to the far corner of the room. Finally, they were settled around the table and Trudy fetched Fen’s wine from the window seat to set it before her as the meat was carved and the cabbage and leeks dished out onto their plates.

“Thank you, Trudy.”

“Speaking of rumors,” said Roland, possibly in an attempt to help diffuse the situation. “Only this morning I heard some tale you were now bosom friends with Eden Montmayne.” He spoke the last two words in tones of utmost loathing.

“I am friends with the Lady Eden,” said Fen defensively as she cut up her meat. “And I know that cannot be wrong, for your brother himself recommended that I cultivated her friendship.” She looked across to Oswald for corroboration, but he was still remote and did not meet her gaze. “And Lady Schaeffer holds her in very high esteem.”

Roland made a rude noise. “Everyone will think you a social pariah,” he said rolling his eyes. “Lenora Montmayne is the one whose company you should be cultivating. She is the reigning beauty. Closely followed by that newcomer, that Cecil female.” He piled some more cabbage on his already heaped plate.

“That may be so,”" conceded Fenella taking another sip of her wine. “And might account for the men of the court clamoring for their company. But what care I for a pretty face on a woman? No, I thank you. I would much rather have the company of ladies who have conversation.” She did not add that Lenora Montmayne had no discernible personality and Helen Cecil seemed thoroughly unpleasant. In her experience, men did not like to hear that their goddesses had feet of clay. She shot a look at Oswald who to all intents and purposes was concentrating solely on his meal, which was not like him.

“Oh, and the likes of Mouse Martindale and Bess Hartleby are good company are they?” scoffed Roland. “One scared stiff of her own shadow, and the other looks like a side of beef in a dress!”

“She does not! You're being ridiculous, Roland,” fired up Fen in defense of her new friends. “Lady Martindale may be a little shy and nervous but if you take time to draw her out, she is very sweet and sincere. And Lady Hartleby may have high coloring, but she has excellent good health and has many tips on how to keep dogs.” Even to her own ears, the last point sounded a little weak, but she did not know all of Bess' good points yet. “And I think it's a bit rich of you to criticize my friend’s appearance and character when you consider your own choice of company!”

Roland shot a startled look at Oswald who turned to Fenella with a frown.

“What did I say?” she asked in puzzlement.

“I swear I haven't bought any women back here since you married-“ started Roland hotly.

“I meant Sir Edward Bevan and Sir James Attley,” interjected Fenella.

Oswald visibly relaxed.

“Well, what's wrong with poor old Bev?” asked Roland recovering quickly.

“Nothing, except his sole topic of conversation is his horse Bromley.” At Roland's bewilderment, she elaborated: “The other night, he spent the entire supper speaking of Bromsley's flanks. Poor Lady Fortescue thought it was a place up north.”

A look of amusement flickered over Oswald’s face so quickly, that Fen half-wondered if she had imagined it.

“No-one appreciates the art of conversation anymore,” lamented Roland with a grin.

“Hah!” responded Fen derisively. She pondered a moment. For some reason, she did not want the table to fall silent. “I think it is very hard,” she said hesitantly. “When one does not fit into a certain mold. For ladies, I mean. They are judged so harshly for falling short of the ideal, where men are allowed to have spindle-shanks and pimples or an unnatural thirst for horseflesh and no-one bats an eyelid.”

“Unnatural?” spluttered Roland, slamming down his cup. “I never heard that particular rumor about old Bevan.”