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Supper was a much noisier affair with the Cadwalladers in residence. Cuthbert, who turned out to be a good-looking, blond youth of about fifteen, reappeared and after helping to carry the dishes through, joined them at the table to eat. Meg and Lily hung off his every word as he explained he had been to see the horses stabled. Baby Archie was passed between the servants and the family as he reached for food, cutlery and generally whatever was placed out of his reach. Whenever his will was thwarted he let out a mind-numbing squawk and his face turned quite puce.

“He’s very strong-willed,” Linnet said in what seemed to be simultaneously an apology and a boast, as she tried, in vain to extricate her hair from his grip.

Roland turned up as the final course was uncovered. “Gods,” he groaned. “Did you not think to give us any warning?” He dutifully kissed Linnet’s cheek and ruffled the girls’ hair.

“Why?” asked Mason. “So, you could make yourself scarce?”

“Is that you, Cuthbert?” Roland asked, sounding startled. “You’ve finally found some inches.”

Cuthbert grinned and wiped his greasy fingers absently onto his tunic. “I’ll be taller than you before next summer,” he boasted.

Roland snorted before catching sight of the decimated meal. “Is this all that’s left of the goose?” he complained. “Well, I like that!”

Gertie and Trudy were duly dispatched down to the kitchens to fetch more food and Linnet moved around, ostensibly to make room for Roland. When she made a beeline in her direction, Fen suspected it was a deliberate ploy to have some quiet chat with her. She shuffled her chair across to make room for her sister-in-law. Oswald at present was caught up in conversation with his two brothers, so they were free to converse. Archie was re-settled onto his mother’s lap. He was yawning now and blinking his eyes as if sleepy. Linnet filled Fen’s goblet and then her own. “Now, while we have the opportunity,” she said in a low voice, passing Fen her drink. “I would dearly love to hear how things stand with you and Oswald.”

Fen took a hurried sip of the wine and winced. “I’m sure you noticed I am quite in his bad books at the moment, but are just too kind to say it.”

“Oh, that,” said Linnet dismissively, “but that was nothing. He was just annoyed because he was concerned for you. One has to make allowances for husbands sometimes. They get very het up when they fear for your welfare.”

Fen’s eyes widened. “But I was only…”

“Oh yes, I know,” agreed Linnet hurriedly. “But perhaps, when his whole day is taken up with such unpleasantness as a spy-master’s are wont to, he could be excused for becoming a little over-protective.”

Fen sat back in her seat. She had never considered that Oswald’s line of work might have an effect on his behavior. He was talking now with Cuthbert. With a start, she realized Linnet was still speaking, as she mopped the dribble from Archie’s chin. “And mayhap,” she suggested. “Sometimes, when he seems a little tense, you could reach out and just give him a little touch.”

Fen, who was in the act of putting down her goblet, nearly missed the table. “A touch?” she repeated in surprised tones.

“The merest gesture,” elaborated Linnet. “A fleeting touch, say, to the back of his neck or between his shoulder blades. Just to let him know,” she beamed.

“Let him know what?” wondered Fen aloud.

“Why, that you support him, and he may depend on you.”

Fen considered this as she mopped up the spilled drops of wine that had sloshed out of the cup. “It’s just,” she said with a faint frown. “That, well, Oswald is so very important and I don’t want to be thrusting my presence forward. Or trying to distract him,” she said painstakingly.

“But you see,” said Linnet. “Sometimes, they need to be distracted.”

“They do?” asked Fen uncertainly, as Archie lurched forward on his mother’s lap and snatched a piece of buttered bread off the table.

His mother seemed unconcerned, “Oh yes,” she carried on. “When they’re angry and bellowing or perhaps sinking into a brooding sulk.”

Fen’s eyes widened. “Oh but-” she broke off.

“Yes?” said Linnet encouragingly.

“Well, Oswald doesn’t really do any of those things. He’s, well-” Fen watched as Archie squished the bread between his fingers. “Quite reserved in many ways.”

Linnet nodded. “That is certainly the impression he gives. And yet-” she jiggled Archie on her knee. “I have certainly heard some interesting tales since your marriage which have made me wonder…” she broke off with a smile.

“Made you wonder?” prompted Fen, as Archie reached for a second piece of bread with his other hand.

“Finish with that one first, dearest,” advised Linnet. Her son ignored her, and she turned back to Fen. “I wondered if perhaps Oswald is not quite so different from Mason after all.”

Fen pondered this in some confusion. Mason Vawdrey seemed like a terrifying ogre to her. Oswald was more like a dark prince under a spell. “What stories did you hear, I wonder?” she asked with misgiving.

“Oh well, the one where he dragged Sir Thane down the corridor in nothing but his night-cap until he renounced all claim on you. That one’s my favorite.”

“His claim on me?” echoed Fen, quite mystified.