Page 83 of Wed By Proxy

“But what of your brother-in-law’s burial?” Mathilde said in surprise. “Do you not wish to pay your respects?” After all, he had told her himself that Lord Allworthy had supplied him with a generous allowance for several years.

Tristan pulled a face. “Even your brief glimpse of Julia must have shown you how uncomfortable she can make people when she wishes.” His tone was light, but Mathilde still flushed remembering how the haughty Julia had tried to order her from her own home. “She is quite merciless and would not hesitate to put me to shame before her friends and neighbors by demanding my removal.”

He sounded saddened by this, and Mathilde felt a pang of sympathy for him. His sister really was not a nice person!

“That is a great pity,” she said gravely.

“I did rather like Cecil.” Tristan sighed. “He was a decent old stick and never objected however much I bled him.”

“Are you really willing to accompany Lady Martindale up to the Heights?” Lettys asked hopefully.

“Absolutely,” he sketched a bow. “I am at your ladyship’s disposal as an escort.”

Which was rather ironic, Mathilde reflected, when you considered that her husband had been forced to act that very same role to his sister due to his mysterious disappearance. Once they were saddled up, and on their way, she asked him where he had been.

“Oh,” he replied airily. “I went to visit with some wholly disreputable old acquaintances. No one that Julia ever knew.”

“And you returned this morning?”

“That’s right,” he answered easily. “We were out carousing all night.”

“How exactly,” Mathilde asked, “does one carouse? I’ve always wondered.”

He laughed. “Well, for my part it usually entails large quantities of wine, women and song.”

“I see,” she replied, feeling if anything even more curious than before. Experience told her that he would not tell her any more detail. “And what of Guy?” she asked.

“Guy?” he looked startled. “Nay, he did not accompany me.” He hesitated. “He was never much of a one for carousing, even before the war.”

Mathilde flushed slightly. “I meant, does he know these disreputable types with whom you associate?”

“Ah,” said Tristan. “I see.” He shook his head. “Guy and my brother Miles were always more serious-minded than I. We did not move in the same circles. Still don’t.”

Mathilde considered this a moment in silence. They were nearly upon the heights now. The only downside to her elegant torque, was that her hood kept slipping down over it. No doubt her ears would be quite pink again by the time they rode back, she thought. There was barely a trace of cloud in the sky, and Sabrina was in high spirits as they galloped along the newly thawed ground.

“Did Guy show you the caves?” Tristan called as they rounded the Tor. Mathilde shook her head. “They’re well worth a look,” he suggested, pointing to their shadowy depths in the bare rock.

Mathilde glanced at them doubtfully. What was it, Guy had said about them? “Aren’t they rather dangerous for strangers?” she asked.

“Ah, but you have an expert guide with you,” he answered swiftly. “I know them like the back of my hand. A misspent youth,” he added at her quizzical look.

Without waiting for her reply, he rode toward the caves and dismounted, tying his horse to a nearby tree. Mathilde followed his example and he tethered Sabrina there too. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud now, for all the sky had been clear only moments before.

“What is it?” Tristan asked, taking her arm and drawing it through his.

She shook her head and Tristan led her up the steep incline that led to the nearest cave entrance. When they reached it, Mathilde felt her first real prickle of alarm.

“It’s very dark,” she commented with misgiving.

“Lean on my arm,” he offered easily. “It’s only this first part that is narrow and dark. It opens out once you get inside.”

Mathilde took a tentative step inside. “Is it damp?” she asked anxiously. “Only I shouldn’t—”

Tristan took a firm grip of not only her arm, but her waist and hauled her inside. “Walk before me now, if you please,” he said in a calm voice of authority. His tone was flat and lacked its usual teasing quality. For some reason, all the fine hairs on the back of Mathilde’s neck rose up in warning. Her mouth was dry.

“I can’t really see where I’m—” Mathilde broke off as they came to a section where the roof of the cave was missing and light streamed in. The floor was flooded with water, very likely melted snow. Mathilde looked back over her shoulder at Tristan, but what she saw was far from reassuring. His expression was grim and even though they had momentarily emerged from the darkness, somehow, he still seemed among shadow.

“This cavern is flooded,” she pointed out. “I think we should turn back.”