The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,97

shade. She was just walking over to the bedchamber window to hold it up to the natural light, when she heard Armand’s step in the corridor outside.

“You’ve missed some excitement,” he said striding into the room and heading for the chest against the far wall.

“What excitement is that?”

“Roger came by to give a much-rehearsed apology to Miss Rose.”

“Oh?” Una lowered the cloth. “How, pray, was it received?”

Armand shrugged. “She didn’t even allow Roger to finish, I felt quite sorry for the lad. Told him his cause was hopeless for she loves another.”

Una gasped. “She did? Was … um … Otho present?”

Armand shot her an inquisitive look. “No, though that talkative maid was there, hanging on every word, so no doubt it will soon be all over the house. Why?”

Una bit her lip. “I think Otho might be the object of her affections,” she admitted.

“Otho?” Armand was incredulous. Then he laughed. “Who knows, maybe she’ll balance him out. He’s far too serious.”

“I was thinking much the same earlier,” she confessed.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” he warned her. “They seem a mismatch to me.”

Una watched him covertly as he opened his trunk and began rooting around in there for something. “I’m thinking of sending to Muriel, to see if I could borrow some representation of the family crest,” she said aloud. “Do you suppose she would have some token she could send me?”

Armand rolled his eyes. “Sure to,” he answered. “They’re stiff-necked with family pride and past glory.” He regarded her with sudden suspicion. “I don’t want it emblazoned across my new tunic, mind.”

Una smiled. “I would be a bit more subtle than that,” she assured him. “Perhaps a small badge might be acceptable?” When he made no reply, she asked, “can I help you locate what you are looking for?”

“I have it,” he said, brandishing several wooden poles. At her curious look, he explained briefly. “It’s for training the new men.”

Una nodded. “Did you really mean what you said about my making you another suit of clothes?” she asked, choosing not to dwell on the fact he thought their outside servants would need to bear arms.

“Of course,” he replied lightly. “I think another hat too, while you’re at it.”

“A hat?” she looked at him quizzically, wondering if he was merely trying to keep her busy instead of worrying over impending Northerners. “Only … I received the distinct impression that you did not favor the hat,” she admitted.

He frowned. “When?”

“At that first inn.” She paused. Pointing out he had seemed happy to lose it did not seem terribly diplomatic. “You did not seem devastated by its loss,” she replied instead, with tact.

Armand lowered the lid of the trunk. “I think it’s a bit much that I’m expected to stand by hatless,” he said sternly, “While Fulcher swaggers around, bragging it is the best made hat he ever owned.”

Una blinked. “Fulcher said that?” she uttered, feeling suddenly a lot more charitable toward the weasel-faced Fulcher.

“He did. He is inordinately proud that he owns a garment made by a princess’s fair hands. Meanwhile my own wife refuses to make me another,” Armand said in an aggrieved tone, climbing to his feet.

“Of course I’ll make you another!” Una protested. Armand crossed the room to kiss her briefly on the lips. “I’ll see you at supper,” he said, and Una realized he must be taking the new men’s training very seriously if he meant to be about it all day.

She spent that afternoon in the solar and sent for Rose to keep her company. Mrs. Brickenden pulled a face, but Una was firm. “Rose has duties as my companion to fulfill also,” she told the tight-lipped woman. “I would have you put out word in the village that we require another servant to pick up the buttery and kitchen duties.”

When she imparted this to Rose, however, the girl did not seem as pleased as Una would have expected. In contrast to that morning, she looked suddenly pale and wan. She helped carefully cut the pattern pieces with Una, but was quiet and subdued and declined the opportunity to demonstrate her skill with the harp.

Una left the window, where she had been watching Armand and Otho briefing the new men and returned to the pieces of fabric she had already cut out and left ready for sewing. “I have not yet heard you play.”

“I’m putting that behind me, milady,” Rose said, looking up from where she was kneeling, smoothing the fabric out. She