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Fen turned this over a moment too. It scared her a little, how much she liked his reply. “Very well, my lord,” she agreed in little more than a whisper.

He sat up and blew out the candles on his bedside and then settled back onto the bed. Fen continued to stare at the spot she imagined his face would be. “Go to sleep, Fenella,” he said in a throaty voice.

“I’m not tired now,” she told him boldly. She reached out to lightly touch the bolster between them.

“You’ve had two cups of mead,” he told her sternly. “You only think you’re wide awake.”

Fen was surprised he’d noticed how many cups of mead she’d had, he’d been so steadfastly ignoring her. But perhaps he had still been keeping a watch on her after all. The thought made her feel a little warmer inside. “Yes, husband,” she said and could have sworn she heard him take a ragged indrawn breath and mutter something under his breath. “Good night.”

She lay awake a while pondering on the different natures of her past and present husband. The funny thing was, Ambrose always fretted and worried about other people’s true feelings or intentions, but usually only in relation to himself. You could describe an event in minute detail to him and he’d make all the right noises and then at the end pat you on the head and declare it was all in your own head and you were making too much of it. A day or so later and he would have forgotten that you’d even told him. Before now, she’d simply imagined that Ambrose’s life was so much broader than her own that he simply did not have the space to consider her emotions overmuch. It seemed to her now, that this was the absolute opposite with her new husband. Lord Vawdrey did not make any sympathetic tuttings or murmurings in the right place of the story. He made no attempt to soothe hurt feelings. He fired a few short, uncomfortable questions and then took swift and terrible action. She could scarcely believe he had returned her pearls to her like that. She had thought at first that he was angry with her for being so trivial as to bring up something so far beneath his notice. The fact he had exposed himself to gossip and speculation simply to retrieve her property astonished her. When she finally dropped off to sleep, she was still marveling over it.

**

Fenella woke to the familiar warmth of Oswald Vawdrey's physical presence and lay a moment letting the happenings of the previous evening washed over her. She felt somehow comforted by the press of his firm, strong body as she recalled Ambrose's rude behavior, his refusal to meet her gaze or even address her directly. That made her wince, but it was not the pain of betrayal she had felt a mere three days ago. She felt ashamed of him. The man she had thought she had married would not done something so callous as to make a gift to another woman of her pearls. Even Gil would be shocked by that. She resolved to tell her brother of it in her next letter. Although she did not know the whole story of how exactly how Colleen had got her pearls in her clutches, or how Lord Vawdrey had taken them back. She had wanted to ask him last night, but he had been angry then, and she did not quite dare. She had slighted her new husband by acting miserably at the feast and that mortified her. She needed to make amends for that. He had done nothing but try to make things easy for her at court. And he had spent so much money on a full bridal trousseau for her. She jumped, feeling his hand land on her thigh. But a sleepy murmur near her ear, reassured her he was still fast asleep. She lay very still and he huffed out a breath and shifted against her back. She examined the state of her own heart while she had a quiet moment. Her feelings still smarted and felt a little raw, but more like a bandage had been removed from a wound leaving it tender and sore rather than fresh and oozing. She felt a flicker of optimism. Perhaps all would turn out well in the end? After all, was it not better to find out now if her husband was an unreliable philanderer who could not be trusted? While she was young enough to re-marry? And despite all the odds, she had re-married well. According to Roland, women were not Oswald's passion, but ambition. Therefore, was it not unlikely that he would visit similar disgrace on her in the future. He seemed to feel strongly about according her the respect due to a wife. He had even been indignant on her behalf. Certainly, last night he had been angry. But at least part of that had been directed toward her, she reminded herself. For sitting in such misery when all at court were eager for a glimpse of his new wife. She would have to rectify that as soon as she got the chance, she vowed to herself. The hand on her thigh gave her a light squeeze and she turned her head to peer over her shoulder. Oswald Vawdrey's eyes were still shut but he stirred against the pillows and frowned. She glanced toward the window to where grey light streamed through and wondered at the time. She fancied if she listened, she could hear Meldon going about his business in the rooms beyond theirs. No doubt he would soon be through with their washing water. She wondered what she would be expected to do with herself today, when she still had no apparel to her name. It was most frustrating as she would have liked to have taken that walk with Lady Schaeffer. The latch clanked and the door swung open. Meldon crossed the threshold carrying a steaming jug of water. She felt Oswald Vawdrey's head lift off the pillow behind her, then drop back down. He didn't hurry to move his hand from her leg, she noticed. The door had no sooner shut behind Meldon then it re-opened and he came in carrying a large leather pack which he dropped down at the foot of the bed.

“What is that?” asked Oswald, though he did not move a muscle from where he lay.

“Come for the missus,” said Meldon before correcting himself. “Her ladyship.”

“For me?” Fenella struggled to disentangle herself and sit up. Oswald Vawdrey made a disgruntled noise, which she ignored.

“There be a letter too,” said Meldon throwing an opened letter onto the bed.

Fenella turned it over to see it addressed to Lady F. Thane. The seal which was Ambrose's stag had been broken. She frowned and then opened out the letter which she realized at once was from Orla.

“Tis from my sister-in-law,” she said slowly.

“No, it isn't,” said Oswald finally rising from the bed and straightening up to walk toward the hot water pitcher. Fen kept her eyes riveted on the vellum sheet. She would never get used to his casual nudity. “That is not the Cadwallader crest.”

“Cadwallader crest?”" she repeated in confusion and then broke off. “Oh.” He was referring to the fact her sister-in-law was now the Duchess of Cadwallader. “I meant, it is from my friend Orla Thane,” she corrected herself swiftly. “She writes that she has packed up my clothes, jewelry and personal effects for their own safety, as she noticed that my document chest and dog had both disappeared off the premises. Oh dear,” she said lowering the missive. “I did wonder if Orla might worry when she noticed Bors had gone. I asked her to take particular care of him, you see.”

Oswald shook the water out of his eyes and reached for one of his dressing robes. The peacock blue one this time. “Well, now we know how your pearls ended up around the wrong throat,” he commented dryly. At her confused look, he gestured to the letter. “The package must have been delivered by mistake to the current Lady Thane.”

Fen dropped her letter with an exclamation. “And she rifled through my things!” she said indignantly. “And took out what she wanted for herself! Well!” She jumped down from the bed and ran to the pack of clothes which she started unfastening. “At least I will have something to wear at any rate,” she said cheerfully. Oswald sauntered closer and grimaced as she pulled an old grey gown from the pack. “I use this one when tending to my herb garden,” she said quickly.

“You cannot wear any of these at court, Fenella,” he said firmly.

“Oh but-!”

“They are strictly to be worn within the confines of these rooms, though I must confess I would rather you did not.” He eyed a shabby green woolen underdress with disfavor. In truth, it had seen better days but was still serviceable and warm.

“I was hoping to take Bors for a walk today with Lady Schaeffer,” she said hurriedly. “It has been days since I've had any fresh air, Bors needs walking and I have not been able to check on my horse.”

“Roland has been walking Bors. And the royal stables will be adequately providing for your steed.”

Fen's face fell.

Oswald came over and crouched down beside her, taking her hands in his. “Fenella, if you went abroad in these garments everyone would assume you were Lady Schaeffer's maid. What you fail to understand is that ladies at court are forever parading their wealth and standing.”

“But surely Lady Schaeffer would not judge me so? She seemed a sensible lady of mature years.”

“Lady Schaeffer would meet you in furs,” he told her. “She would be most shocked indeed if you showed up in a threadbare gown and a patched cloak.”

Fen's face flamed. “Sir Ambrose had been away from home these two years past,” she said stiltedly. “I have not felt at liberty to refurbish my garments while I was running the estate.”

Oswald Vawdrey's fingers tightened over hers. “You are my wife, Fenella. It is my right to provide for you.” He released her hands and glanced disparagingly at the pile of clothes. “If I had my way, these things would be burned.”

“Burned?” blurted Fen in alarm. “That would be most wasteful,”" she added. “There is still plenty of wear to be had from them. Perhaps I could give them to Meldon's god-daughter?”