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Fen clutched her goblet hard between her fingers. “But her husband is ever so old,” she pointed out with determination.

“I have no interest in the marital status of Lady Sumner,” he answered her after a couple of heartbeats. “Was it also the Queen who put this into your head?”

Fen gazed at the bottom of her cup. “She may have mentioned something,” she mumbled distractedly.

“Since when have you been one of Armenal’s cronies?” asked Roland.

Fen was half-inclined to ignore his rude question, but when she looked up everyone was looking at her curiously. “She came and sat with me a while today while I was being painted for my portrait.”

“Did she, indeed?” asked Oswald grimly. “With the express intent of sowing discord into my marriage, or some other aim?”

“Oh, I am sure the Queen did not-” began Linnet anxiously, but Mason reached across and placed a hand over hers. She pressed her lips together and lapsed into silence.

“She didn’t tell me her intent,” said Fen mutinously.

Oswald threw down his napkin and dragged his chair back from the table. To Fen’s surprise he reached across and grabbed her wrist, pulling her up and out of her chair. “Excuse us,” he said shortly. “We will be retiring early.” He strode toward their room, towing Fen in his wake. She cast a look back over her shoulder to see the rest of the family’s eyes trained on them, with varying expressions of surprise or interest.

“My lord-” she started to protest as the door slammed behind them, only to find herself pressed up against it.

“What are you doing?” he asked conversationally.

Fen had no idea why she was panting, although her husband’s lower body was pressed into her own in a somewhat suggestive manner. He probably didn’t intend it to be, she told herself, trying to think calming thoughts. One of his legs was pressed between hers in a way that was quite depriving her of all breath.

“I was just-”

“No,” he said.

“No?” Despite his controlled manner of speaking, it occurred to Fen that he was not calm. Not at all. There was a small tic in his jaw that she had not noticed before.

“If you want to ask me –” he broke off his words and stared fixedly past her ear a moment, before taking a deep breath. “There are some things that should be said between a man and a wife,” he said tersely. “Without an audience.”

“What things?” asked Fen, realizing that despite his dominant stance, her husband was definitely on his back foot. She relaxed against the door, but he immediately crowded further into her. Fen took a deep breath.

Again, he seemed to struggle for words. “If I can tolerate Thane’s existence on the face of this earth, then I don’t think you have any reason to feel ill-used,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Fen considered this. “I suppose that’s fair,” she said. “Though after you jilted me, you had several other betrotheds, or so I heard. And now I find there were other women as well.” Her voice rose on the last four words.

“Other women?” There was a definite edge to his voice now. Fen had no idea why she was pushing this, but she was feeling reckless. Like pulling a lion’s tail, or perhaps it should be a panther’s, she thought, thinking of the Vawdrey crest. “There have been no other women,” he said in a softly menacing voice. “Are you trying to deliberately provoke me?”

“Enid Jauncey!” Fen flung at him.

His expression flickered a moment. “A neighbor and friend of my sister-in-law,” he said. “What has she to do with me?”

Fen found she was breathing hard now. “How should I know? I’ve heard precious little of your exploits over the years.”

“Exploits?”

“And why did Lady Sumner lend me her clothing when I first arrived?” asked Fen, her color mounting. She hadn’t even realized that still rankled. “Did you buy them for her?” she asked wildly. “Is she your –?”

“Don’t you say it,” warned Oswald softly.

“Mistress!” yelled Fen defiantly.

Both of them were breathing hard now. Oswald stepped back so fast that Fen startled to topple forward, then she found herself yanked over toward the bed, his hands gripping her waist and hauling her without effort. Her feet left the floor and she was flung unceremoniously down onto the mattress, face first. As she struggled to sit up, he was on her, shoving her flat, and tugging at the lacings that ran down the back of her dress. Fen squirmed and wriggled, but it made no difference. The bodice of her dress went slack, but to her surprise, he didn’t drag it off her. Instead his weight briefly left her, and she felt her skirts being flung up exposing her legs and backside. “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Can’t you tell?” he asked, settling behind her. “We’ve done it this way before. Like the beasts. Remember? I’m going to mount you from behind.”

Fen gasped, stiff as a plank, but it made no difference as his warm hand slid around to her tummy and then dipped lower to cup her between her legs. He was lying on top of her now, pinning her in place. “Open your legs wider.” She felt his voice vibrate deep in her stomach and turned bright red.