‘No, nothing like that.’
‘Perhaps Jerrard ought to take a look at you. He’s skilled at healing. Jerr—!’
‘No!’ A hand shot out and grabbed his arm, her fingers curling tightly around his bicep and warming the skin through his tunic. ‘There’s nothing he can do, truly.’
‘I still think...’
‘It’s my courses!’
‘Your...? Oh.’ He clamped his mouth shut, waving Jerrard away as he started to ride back towards them. ‘You should have told me this morning. We might have delayed our journey.’
‘I didn’t want to delay.’ She sounded as if she were speaking through clenched teeth. ‘I’ve already waited five years. A little pain isn’t going to stop me now.’
‘It seems like more than a little.’
‘Well, it’s not.’ She drew herself upright again. ‘There, you see, I’m perfectly well. It was just a moment.’
‘If you say so.’ He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, feeling an unusual and unexpected sense of loss as she pulled her fingers away from his arm. There had been precious little physical contact between them and, despite himself, he found that he liked it. ‘Only promise to tell me if you need to stop and rest for a while?’
‘I will. Thank you.’
He nudged his horse forward again, drawing in a deep breath and then sighing it out ruefully. ‘This really is a bizarre situation, isn’t it?’
For some reason, the words struck her as funny because she burst into a sudden fit of laughter. It wasn’t a ladylike peel of giggles so much as a series of loud guffaws, but it made him feel curiously pleased with himself, so much so that he found himself laughing, too. He didn’t even care about the quizzical glances being thrown in their direction by his companions. Bizarre was an understatement. Their whole situation was ludicrous and yet, to his amazement, he was actually enjoying his wife’s company. A week ago, even a day ago, he would have said that it was madness to even consider the possibility, but he really was. He was enjoying talking to her, even when the subject was her courses of all things!
‘What about Wintercott?’ she asked him, wiping away tears of laughter after they’d finished negotiating their way around yet another boggy patch. ‘I know that our lands are adjacent, but I don’t recall ever visiting. I don’t remember my parents going there either.’
‘No, it seems unlikely.’ All trace of humour dissipated at once. ‘My father spent a lot of time at court in the past.’
‘Ah, that explains it.’
He cleared his throat, grimacing at his own words. Not that he was lying, not exactly, but he wasn’t exactly telling the whole truth either. His father had often been away during his childhood, but he’d never been particularly neighbourly when he’d been at home either. He wondered if her parents had been aware of some of the darker stories surrounding Sir Ralph Wintour. That would explain their avoidance. Her uncle clearly hadn’t or he would never have agreed to the marriage, particularly if he’d heard some of the wilder rumours about Blanche’s death... After five years, it was amazing that no gossip had ever reached Lincoln, but it would be harder to conceal the truth at Wintercott itself. Maybe he owed it to Constance to warn her about his father, not to mention the kind of reception they were likely to receive. There was always a chance that Sir Ralph might have mellowed over the years, though it seemed unlikely. When it came to his father, he’d found that it was usually best to prepare for the worst.
‘Do you have any other family?’ She spoke again before he could decide. ‘Any brothers or sisters?’
‘One half-brother, Alan. He’s six years younger than me and still lives at Wintercott.’
‘So he’s about my age?’ She seemed pleased by the idea. ‘What about your new stepmother? My aunt told me your father remarried last year.’
‘Yes. Her name’s Adelaide.’
‘And?’
‘And...’ he lifted his shoulders and then dropped them again ‘...that’s as much as I know.’
‘Just her name? Your father hasn’t told you anything else?’
‘No. We don’t correspond often and when we do...’ he drew his brows together, sensing rather than seeing the surprise on her face ‘...those aren’t the kinds of things we discuss.’
‘Things like the character or appearance of the person you’re married to?’
He winced at the implication. ‘No.’
Thankfully a series of large puddles prevented any further conversation and by the time conditions improved, he could see Jerrard and Laurent waiting up ahead, standing beside their mounts at a fork in the road.
‘This is where we must leave you.’ Jerrard looked sombre as Matthew dismounted and walked over to join them, leaving Constance a few feet behind.
‘So it is.’ Matthew clasped each of their shoulders in turn, lowering his voice discreetly. ‘You know I’d rather be coming with you.’