Page 89 of The Consolation Prize

She was fascinated to see his expression had settled somewhere in between playful Armand and intense Armand. It was a devastating combination. She shook her head. “Have you played dragon and knight with anyone else?” she asked, with sudden misgiving.

He laughed, looking like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “No, for that game was of your invention, wife. Do you not remember?”

“So, it was.” She blushed. “I hope you will not be too serious to play it in future, husband.”

Armand grinned. “I’m sure I could be persuaded with the right incentive.” He closed his arms about her, bearing her back down to the mattress.

“What kind of incentive?” she asked against his shoulder.

“The right fire-breathing dragon. My very own one, that is.”

*

They did not descend below stairs until early the next morning when they came downstairs hand in hand. Una was wearing a robe over her shift, her hair in one long braid over her shoulder. Armand’s tunic was not fastened, and he could not stop yawning. They had been forced to wash in cold water from the previous evening as no one had wanted to disturb them by bringing them up any fresh.

It was Una’s hope that barely anyone would be about after the previous night’s excitement, but by the time they reached the great hall her ears had picked up the low buzz of conversation in there. She tried to hang back, but Armand was having none of it, his arm about her waist, propelling her forward. At their entrance there was a drag of benches as all present rose to their feet with warm greetings.

“Good morning,” Una found herself coloring up and wishing everyone. “Good morning.” It seemed no one present bore her any ill will for her Northern or indeed her Blechmarsh birth. Janet beamed at her and Peter shyly nodded. She was disappointed to see Rose still clad in her drab gray gown, but the girl’s smile was as sweet as ever. Abelard came dancing over to greet his mistress. Una patted his head and examined his side, but he seemed none the worst for his ordeal. Rose retreated to a low stool by the enormous fireplace, where she sat feeding logs into the growing blaze.

Armand sat in his seat, and when Una went to take the chair at his right, he pulled her down into his lap. “Let us remain informal this morning, wife,” he told her with a wink, lowering his voice for her ears only. “I fully intend taking you straight back upstairs again after this.”

Una gazed at him. “Well, I guessed that was why you would not let me dress,” she confessed, and dropped a kiss to his lips. Janet plunked down cups of frothing ale before them and Mrs. Brickenden came hurrying in with another platter of fish and fresh-baked bread.

Una thanked them with a smile and noticed that the hall looked just as packed as the previous evening. If anyone had flung off in disgust at the revelation of her birth, she could not tell. Glancing down the table, Una saw the personable-looking man who had carried a bow the previous evening. He was surrounded by the rowdier element at the table.

“Who is that man?” Una asked Armand. “Is he one of Lord Vawdrey’s?”

“Yes,” Armand said with a dismissive glance at Walker, who toasted them.

“Do you think they will stay with us for long?” Una asked, passing Armand his cup.

“Hopefully for life,” Armand answered swiftly. “You were right. Why should we hinder them from doing their job? It is no hardship for me to have more mouths at our table. We’ve plenty of gold and I do not mean to be caught unawares again.” She noticed he was looking about in some consternation. “But where is Otho?” he asked, and Una realized for the first time that her brother was missing.

No sooner had he spoken the words, then they heard a hurried step enter the room. Otho marched into the great hall, his expression fixed and determined, his arms full of wildflowers.

“Otho?” Una uttered with surprise, but he made straight for Rose who was seated next to the fire. On reaching her, he knelt down before her and reached out to unwind the gray headscarf from her head.

Una covered her mouth with her hands as she watched Otho start carefully placing the flowers into Rose’s golden hair. “Oh,” she murmured, as tears began to roll down Rose’s cheeks. “Oh, Armand,” she whispered. “Look!”

Armand shifted in his seat beneath her. “It seems too private a moment for everyone to be watching,” he muttered, but Una could see that neither Otho nor Rose had eyes for anyone else present. Her hand sought Armand’s and she squeezed his fingers tight. After a moment, he returned the pressure.

“If he wants her, then good luck to him, he’ll need it!” he murmured.

“Armand! Rose saved my life,” Una reminded him reproachfully.

Armand snorted. “She’ll probably say the faeries told her to push him over!”

“Armand!”

“Besides, you saved hers right back,” he pointed out. “She would have gone over the edge if you had not caught her.” When she did not respond, he ran a finger down her spine. “Remind me to warn Otho never to inadvertently step on that dog. She’ll pitch him out the window faster than he can beg its pardon.”

Una shook her head and stole another glance at the fireside. Rose was now in Otho’s arms. She could have cried to see the look of tenderness on her brother’s usually stern face. “Oh, Armand,” she sighed. “We shall soon have another wedding feast here at Lynwode.”

Janet and Mrs. Brickenden started clapping enthusiastically and soon everyone else had joined in, so the hall was buzzing with good cheer.

When a loud clamoring started at the door, Una did not even flinch. “Likely it’s my in-laws,” she murmured, tipping back her head to look at Armand when his arms tightened protectively around her. “I told you they would soon hear of last night’s excitement.”

In this, however, she was quite wrong, for it turned out to be a royal deputation. One herald blew a trumpet as the other unfurled a long list of items. Then a third clapped his hands and a staggering array of wedding gifts were carried into the great hall. The first herald cleared his throat and informed them their unexpected departure had prevented the King from bestowing them before they left court.