The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,108

and passed down and the cups of wine distributed, Armand cleared his throat. Again, he gave a speech welcoming any newcomers to their table and toasted Una as mistress of the house. These sentiments were duly echoed, and everyone fell upon their food.

Supper was a noisy affair that evening, and conversation was only stilted at their end of the table. Elsewhere, the murmur of voices rose to the rafters and even the occasional ring of laughter was heard. Otho was tight-lipped and morose, though in truth, he was never exactly effervescent company. As for Armand, he fell into abstraction and even seemed to forget to eat, except in fits and starts.

Una found she missed the loquaciousness of Fulcher, who could always be depended on to keep a steady stream of conversation, but he was not due back with them for some weeks now. Una wracked her brain for things to talk brightly about, but in truth she did not think her husband or brother attended her, until she mentioned a proposed trip to Great Derring that herself and Mrs. Brickenden had decided to take upon the morrow.

“No!” both Armand and Otho exclaimed at the same time.

Una lowered the wine cup she had been raising to her lips. “But tomorrow is the market that Mrs. Brickenden thinks we might be able to find the linens we require—,” she started patiently. Again, she was interrupted.

“I forbid it,” Armand said almost simultaneously to Otho barking out another negative. Armand eyed Otho darkly and Otho lapsed into silence. “It’s not convenient at this time,” Armand continued, after a slight pause.

Una was speechless for a moment. “Very well,” she said at last, rather taken aback. He had never forbidden her to do anything before.

“The Brickenden woman can go if you like,” he added as an afterthought.

Una wasn’t sure she trusted to the housekeeper’s taste. “Perhaps next week,” she murmured, and got a heavy frown for a reply. Clearly, she thought, she was not in Armand’s good books, but surely this could not stem from her woeful attempts to please him in the bedchamber. She eyed him uncertainly, but precious few other words fell from his lips for the duration of the meal.

Abelard trotted happily between Una and Rose in search of tidbits and found neither of them ate a great deal that night, so his belly was nicely rounded by the close of it. When Una announced she was withdrawing upstairs at the close of the meal, Armand nodded absently.

“I shall be up later,” he said, and she thought his shoulders seemed to relax, as though he would be able to speak more freely without her around.

She felt a stab of pain at this telling reaction, but hoped she masked it with her tight smile. “Of course, goodnight all,” she answered smoothly, and departed with her dog trotting at her heels, mounting the staircase with a heavy heart.

Una had shut her bedchamber door behind her and was crossing the room, pulling pins from her veil when she first realized something was amiss. Abelard started a low growl that startled her, and she turned around to find the little dog staring fixedly at the large carved cupboard in the corner.

As Una turned to contemplate it, someone stepped out of the shadows, confounding her. A likeness confronted her that she had believed had gone to the grave. She drew in a shocked breath, even as doubt came rushing in. “Waleran?” she muttered, falling back a step. “Is that truly you?” Somehow, he seemed altered. The boyish face had grown sharper and leaner and he now wore a pointed beard upon his chin. But there was something else, she could not quite put her finger on, that seemed changed about him.

“Hello, sister,” her youngest brother muttered with a peculiarly unpleasant smile. “You seem surprised to see me?”

“I heard tell that you were dead. With Forwin at Demoyne,” she added through lips that felt suddenly numb. Her brain raced. What could Waleran be doing here, now? She glanced surreptitiously about the room, but could see no other men lurking, or indeed, any other places they could be concealed.

“I am alone,” he said, deducing her thoughts. “I did try to rally some men along the way, but alas, none of them had the stamina required for our cause. I am all alone in all the world, apart from you, sister,” he added. “Blood calls to blood.”

It was an unpleasant notion. “Nay, that is not true, for we have another brother