“I thought Mari-Elle was in France,” Matthew said.
Gaston watched his boots as they moved along the ground. “She was. She returned a few weeks ago. I have only made contact with her so that I could see my son.”
“And how is Trenton?”
Gaston actually smiled. “Growing large. He is seven years old now.”
“And Mari-Elle?”
Gaston’s smile left him. “Still the same cold bitch she has always been.”
Matthew did not want to get on to the subject of Gaston’s wife. They had been pledged as children, married at a very young age, and completely resented each other.
Mari-Elle was high bred, cultivated, vain and cold. When Gaston married her, he had inherited her fortune, but it had been a price too high. It had taken almost ten years to produce their son, a boy in the image of his father. Considering the lovers Mari-Elle kept, Gaston had wondered if the boy was even his until he grew older and there was little doubt. He clearly adored the child. But Mari-Elle kept a separate life from her husband and kept the boy with her. The moments Gaston actually spent with him were precious and few. Gaston’s marriage had been one of the main factors in Matthew’s reluctance to marry Alixandrea; he had seen what a contract marriage could do. He never wanted to find himself in the same position.
“Well,” Matthew continued after a moment’s pause. “I look forward to seeing the lad. Will he be at the feast tonight?”
“Probably not,” Gaston replied. “Mari-Elle keeps him locked away from me whenever she can.”
“Then perhaps Alixandrea and I can visit him another time,” Matthew tried to stay positive. “As it is, I suppose we shall be seeing Mari-Elle tonight.”
“Unfortunately.”
Matthew had nothing more to say on the matter. He felt deeply sorry for his friend; he always had, but such was the way of things. They came to a fork in the corridor; Gaston was to the right and Matthew to the left. They paused a moment to face each other.
“Until tonight, then,” Matthew said. “I am looking forward to scoping out the room.”
Gaston grinned. “No doubt. Speaking of such, I do believe I shall go find la Londe and throw him out into the streets.”
“Need help?”
“I think I can take on la Londe by myself.”
Matthew spread out his arms tauntingly. “But it would be so much more entertaining if we both did it.”
Gaston laughed. “That may be, but I think I can do this without you. Go back to your wife and I will see you tonight.” His smile suddenly faded, as if something had just occurred to him. “Matt, I hope that I am not speaking out of turn, but I would say something that has been concerning me for some time.”
“What is it?”
“Mark does not seem too fond of your new wife.”
Matthew’s good humor fled. “I know,” he said evenly. “I suspect he is upset with me because I have actually found happiness in my marriage where he has not.”
Gaston shrugged in a gesture suggesting it was indeed possible. “Back at Rosehill he seemed very upset because you were not tending Adam every minute of every day. He further seemed to think that Adam’s accident was your wife’s fault. I would watch him if I were you.”
“Mark?” he repeated doubtfully. “That is madness. He would never harm her.”
“Maybe so. But I can promise you that he knows more about her disappearance from Rosehill than he told you.”
Matthew’s face clouded with confusion. “Why would you say that?”
“Because when I questioned him about her disappearance, a slip of his tongue gave him away. He told me that, although he knew nothing of her disappearance, she could keep running as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t so much what he said, but how he said it. He saw something, Matt. I am not sure what it was, but he saw her leave Rosehill and I believe that he made a conscious choice not to tell you.”
Matthew could only stand there and shake his head, slowly, as if reluctant to believe the worst. “You must be mistaken.”
“Ask him. Oh, and Matt?”
“What?”
