Creston stood up, weaving a little. “I can,” he said. “Christ, Lia must be frantic. I hope she isn’t too upset.”
They began to walk, slowly, back toward his cottage. “It wasn’t as if you went very far,” Brenton pointed out. “All she had to do was come into the garden to see your legs sticking out from the shed.”
Creston grunted. “I suppose,” he said. Then he peered at his cousin. “Where have you been all day?”
Brenton grabbed him as he stepped on a rock and tripped. “After walking the perimeter of Blackchurch, we went over to The Black Cock,” he said. “We’ve been plied with food and drink all day long. There was even a man with a draughts board, so we played for hours. We figured that was enough time for you to speak with your wife about the situation.”
Creston took a long, deep breath. “It was long enough,” he said. “She was very upset. Because she was upset, I was upset. But I should not have had so much wine. It was a moment of weakness that I regret.”
“We all have those moments,” Brenton said. “I have had more than my share.”
“Not me,” Myles said, looking up into the clear night sky. “My mother would beat me if I had a weak moment, so I have never had one.”
The de Royans cousins looked over at him. “Your mother sounds terrifying,” Brenton said. “Does she have no sympathy, then?”
Myles smiled, but it was without humor. “She is a sweet, decent woman,” he said. “But she will also club you when you are not looking if she is mad enough. She could not be married to my father and be weak.”
Brenton chuckled, but Creston’s head hurt too badly for such a thing. He was barely holding it together as it was.
“Hopefully, my wife has been sleeping all day,” he said. “The pregnancy is taxing enough without me telling her horrible stories about betrayal. I can only hope she does not even realize I have been missing all day. Mayhap she thinks I was training.”
Brenton gave him a long look. “Only if she is blind and dumb,” he said. “You look like you’ve been trampled by a wagon and you smell like drink, so mayhap you should wash yourself before you see her.”
Creston paused and stood tall, or at least as tall as he could, and thought about his cousin’s advice. He didn’t want Ophelia to think any less of him if she knew he’d been in a drunken stupor all day.
“Mayhap you are right,” he said. “I have already upset her once today. I do not want to do it again.”
The three of them veered off to the well that was several yards away. Brenton hauled up a bucket of water and poured it over Creston’s head about the time Cruz emerged from the rear of his cottage and saw what was happening. He headed over, looking at Creston with concern.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
Creston wiped the water from his eyes and shook his head, spraying droplets everywhere. “It has not been a good day,” he muttered. “Who handled my recruits?”
“Anteaus,” Cruz said. “When you did not show up by noon, he took over the training for the day. Your cousin told me you were with your wife, but now I am seeing that might not be the case?”
Creston wiped at his face. “I was with her this morning,” he said. “I told her about her grandfather’s betrayal and our plan to seek justice. She was understandably very upset and took to bed. I went out in the shed and got drunk because upsetting her made me feel like the worst husband in the world.”
Cruz knew that Creston tended to like copious amounts of wine on occasion, but he’d not seen the man drunk for quite some time. Creston had told him once that when he served John, he was drunk frequently because it helped him forget about the things he’d been forced to do in the name of royal service. Below that killer exterior was an extremely sensitive man, even more sensitive now that he was married. Creston had a hard time reconciling his emotions with the duties he was expected to perform without any emotion whatsoever, so drink had been a way to cope.
Cruz put a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“You are not a terrible husband,” he assured him quietly. “You are a very good one. Your wife knows that even if you do not. Go inside and see her. I’ll entertain your cousin for a while to give you some time alone, so you can reconcile what needs to be reconciled.”
Creston appreciated that. He simply nodded, leaving Cruz with Brenton and Myles as he headed toward the back door of his cottage. It was open, but it was dark inside. No candles or fire were lit. Striking a flint and stone, he lit a taper so he wouldn’t trip over anything in the darkness, and made his way upstairs.
It was still and silent on this floor as he headed to the bedchamber door. The panel was cracked open and he stuck his head inside, lifting the taper so he could see a little better without disturbing his wife.
But she wasn’t in bed.
He pushed the door open wide and surveyed the entire chamber, seeing that she wasn’t anywhere to be found. He noticed that their shared wardrobe was open and he went over to it, seeing that things had been thrown around. There was even clothing on the floor, including the garment that she had been wearing that morning when he last saw her. Puzzled, but not particularly concerned, he walked through the cottage, thinking he might find her dozing in a chair somewhere, but after a complete sweep of the house, he hadn’t found her.
He went back out into the garden.
Cruz and Brenton and Myles were still there, chatting quietly by the well, and they saw him coming out of his cottage.
“Cres?” Cruz called to him. “What are you doing back out here?”
“Looking for my wife,” Creston said. “She is not in our cottage.”
