taking his duties seriously for once? A smile twisted his lips, anticipating their stunned reaction to the news that he was married. He was in no hurry to impart such tidings, but it would have to be done even if it meant them all converging on him.
The thought of his disapproving father, and two joyless brothers, soon wiped the smile from his face. No doubt Henry was as penny-pinching a miser as ever and Roger the same old sober bore he had been since childhood. As for his twin sister, Armand had not felt close to her for years, if ever. Anne had married a wearisome country squire and then produced what he was sure would be a pair of equally tedious, fractious children. He sighed. Family was the devil.
They kept riding till noon, without much event, then left the path for a rest in a shady orchard. Una produced a bag of provisions. As neither he nor Otho fancied the tasteless pork, she fed it to her little mutt, and they all had bread and cheese. Otho watered the horses and then leaned his shoulders against a nearby tree. Armand lowered himself onto a fallen trunk where Una sat.
“How are you feeling? Tired?” he asked in a low voice.
She looked across at him quickly. “You must not worry about me, Sir Armand. I am used to long hours in the saddle.”
“Armand,” he corrected her, and she flushed.
“Yes, of course,” she said hastily and fed her dog another piece of meat. He had been freed from her mantle and was now at her feet.
“I know we have not yet had much time to get acquainted,” Armand continued. “But hopefully once we are at Lynwode, we will have time for that.”
“I’m very much looking forward to seeing it,” she replied warmly.
“I should probably warn you that the place will be in need of a good deal of work, I have not seen it in some five years now …”
She nodded, still looking keen. “That does not daunt me, I look forward to setting to work.”
“Do you speak true?” he asked, a smile quirking his lips. “Or is this merely part of your promise to be amenable in all things?”
“Oh no!” she protested. “Indeed, I am entirely sincere, I assure you.”
“My family too will not be far from us,” he told her glumly. “I am sure they will come poking and prying before long.”
“I look forward to meeting them also,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “For I feel sure they cannot all be as dull as you describe them.”
He laughed and saw Otho scowl at their cozy conversation. “Your brother still does not seem reconciled to me,” he said in a low voice. “He’s a good deal squeamish for a soldier, isn’t he?” When she frowned, he added, “Refusing his share of the treasure. Which seems strange after what you told me of your own soldiers’ looting and sacking.”
Her brow cleared. “Otho’s an idealist,” she replied. “Even in the face of the starkest evidence to the contrary, he still retains his beliefs.” She hesitated. “He had a hard upbringing and had little to cling to. What little he did have, he refuses to let go of.”
“You think I can trust him not to plunge a knife in my ribs at the first opportunity?” Armand asked dryly.
“Oh yes,” she said quickly. “He has always been very honorable. Once he gives his word, he would never go back on it.”
He nodded, squinting his eyes against the sun as he gazed the length of the blossom-filled orchard. “I did not thank you for waking me so precipitously in the early hours.” He gave her a swift glance.
“Did my nails leave a mark on your arm?” she asked ruefully.
“If they did, it’s of no matter and infinitely preferable to a dagger wound. To my regret I am a heavy sleeper—always have been.”
“That has caused you inconvenience in the past?” she asked lightly.
He grinned. “Aye. As boys we used to play all manner of tricks on one another. My fellow squires soon learned the best time to take revenge on me was at night. I often woke to a bedful of frogs or slugs.”
Una wrinkled her nose. “I notice you say revenge,” she remarked. “And deduce you were the initial culprit.”
Again, he laughed. “I was a mischievous boy,” he admitted with a shrug.
She looked at him thoughtfully a moment. “I can well believe it. Who were you squire to? Your father?”
“Gods no, my father