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“Is that the last of them?” she asked Bryce who glanced at his list and shook his head. “We’ve barely started my lady.”

“Barely started?” she echoed with dismay. “Oh dear.” She hesitated. “Have you made a note of the costings involved?” she asked gesturing toward his list. Bryce looked highly affronted. “I thought it might be advisable to make a record of your purchases,” he said stiffly.

“That is a very good notion,” she said, not wishing to cause him any offence. “And I heartily approve. I only meant, I wish to remain within the boundaries Lord Vawdrey has set for spending.”

“Lord Vawdrey did not set any boundaries,” said Bryce.

Fen sat back in her seat. “Oh.” She considered this a moment in stunned silence. In her past life, she was used to keeping an exact list of household and personal expenses. Indeed, even while Ambrose had been away for the last two years, he had expected her to send him a monthly record of her spending at Thurrold. Quite often he sent back demands for justification on some purchase he thought was too exorbitant or to upbraid her if she had not been thrifty enough. It seemed her new husband was to be very different in this respect.

Next was the tailor, a fussy man called signor Pezzini who measured her from head to foot and muttered under his breath the whole time, scribbling down notes onto a bit of paper. When he deigned to speak to her at all, she could hardly understand him, as he had such a heavy accent. “Whatever you think signor,” she found herself saying over and over. “I am sure you know what is best.” She darted anxious glances at Bryce every now and again, but he just nodded sagely as if all was going as it should. She really had no idea what had been ordered by the time he presented her with a very elegant bow and swept out of the room, but she felt badly in need of sustenance.

“Meldon, could you please bring us some light repast when you have a moment?” she asked as he straightened up from adding a log to the fire. He rolled his eyes, but duly stumped off to the kitchens. Fen wondered if she should raise the idea of a lady’s maid with Bryce as Lord Vawdrey had mentioned it only that morning. She couldn’t quite bring herself to though after all the purchases she’d just made. He would no doubt think her an extreme spendthrift. Instead she tried to squint at Bryce’s paper without seeming too obvious and then to recall mentally a list of all the purchases she’d made. Whilst she was counting them on her fingers, Meldon reappeared with a selection of cured meats, hard biscuits, cheese and fruit. He’d even brought a meat bone for Bors, which made Fen exclaim with pleasure. Bors lay under her chair and worried the meat bone with every appearance of satisfaction. Just as she was pouring some wine, the door opened and Lord Vawdrey appeared.

**

“My lord!” exclaimed Bryce. “I did not expect you. You said…”

“I changed my mind, my good Bryce,” Oswald said, directing a slight frown toward his assistant. Bryce jumped up out of his chair next to Fenella and Oswald rounded the table and sat next to her. “How goes it?” he asked picking up her hand and casually kissing her wrist. He watched the blush rise up her neck and spread to her cheeks.

“Well, I think, my lord” she said weakly. “I have bought many, many things.” She looked a little nervous about the fact.

“Good,” he said with a shrug. “That was the general idea.”

“To be honest my lord, I do not have the faintest notion what gowns I commissioned from signor Pezzini. He forms his words so fast, and the harder I try to catch their meaning the more lost I become. Bryce had the forethought to keep a list,” she said gesturing.

“Did he?” Oswald drew the paper across the table top toward him and read it with raised brows. “Two pairs of shoes, two pairs of gloves, two purses and two belts.” He lowered the paper. “Bryce, it seems you took my suggestion of two of everything far too literally!”

His assistant looked uncomfortable.

“It’s not Bryce’s fault,” said Fenella hurriedly. “And I am sure we ordered more than two dresses from signor Pezzini.”

“I sincerely hope so,” said Oswald heavily and glanced back down at the paper. It seemed Fenella was not the only one who had struggled with Pezzini’s accent. Bryce had merely written ‘full court wardrobe’ next to the tailor’s name. Oswald could only hope that the tailor had more of an idea of what was required than his wife and assistant who both looked at him with matching expressions of uncertainty. “Perhaps I ought to stay for the rest of the afternoon,” suggested Oswald dryly. “Or you’ll end up with two lutes, two hawks and two hats to add to your collection.”

Bryce looked heartily relieved. “I can return to the office, my lord?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes Bryce, I think that would be for the best.” Oswald’s sarcastic tone seemed lost on him.

“Thank you, my lord.” He hesitated and bowed toward Fenella. “My lady,” he said stiffly and beat a hasty retreat through the door.

Fenella frowned, as she poured a liberal amount of water into her wine cup. “Bryce does not seem… altogether comfortable in the company of women,” she said carefully.

“No,” agreed Oswald. “I don’t believe he is.”

“Why is that?” asked Fenella looking up.

Oswald was taken aback. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he admitted. “Is it relevant?”

She stared at him, almost as if he was speaking in a foreign language. “I meant, perhaps he has no sisters, or his mother was sadly absent from his upbringing?”

Oswald cudgeled his brains. “I believe his background was religious before he came here as a clerk. He hoped to join the brotherhood, but for some reason it was not meant to be.”

Fenella looked intrigued. “I wonder what happened?” she mused aloud as she set the dishes from the tray onto the table. “I could imagine he would be suited to life as a religious cleric. In fact,” she assumed a confiding air. “When I first met him, his robe was so plain and dark that I quite took him for a monk.” She looked expectantly at Oswald.

“Did you?” he asked dutifully. He had no idea why he was watching her so closely, but for some reason he found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Maybe because he had never had a woman preside over his table before. But no, it was more than that. He tried to put his finger on it while she piled up a plate with cheese and grapes and slid it toward him.

“Yes,” she said solemnly, interrupting his thoughts. “Of course, I was a little overwrought at the time,” she pulled a face. “But I think I can see why I mistook him for one. He looks so very …” she cast around for a word. “Earnest,” she settled on. She poured him a cup of water and set it before him. It seemed she remembered he rarely imbibed.

“Indeed,” he agreed. Other than ascertaining the necessary facts when he employed Bryce, he had taken no interest in his assistant’s motivations or family background. He did not want to admit this to Fenella though. It was apparent she thought one should take a lively interest in your servants. “What say you of Meldon?” he asked curious what she would make of that old, misogynistic stick-in-the-mud.