Page 44 of An Inconvenient Vow

“We’re sure to,” Jeffree answered briefly. After all, it did not turn dark at this time of year until about ten o’clock.

His stepfather looked harried. “Your mother is worn out.”

“She could always sit in the back of the cart.”

“And be jolted around and driven half-mad by the boys’ incessant chatter?” When Jeffree did not bother to answer this, Sir Dudley sighed and cast a look in Sabina’s direction. “Your wife must be tired also,” he commented. “Is she—er—used to arduous travel?”

Jeffree’s eyebrows rose. He hardly thought this counted as “arduous travel.” “I’ve not thought to ask. I think it doubtful she has even left Ganfordshire before.”

Sir Dudley tutted and cast him a look of reproach. A considerate husband would have asked, his disapproving silence seemed to convey. Strange to say, Jeffree was now curious about that fact and let his gaze sweep across to where Sabina was sat atop her horse sipping water.

The setting sun cast a pink glow about her head and shoulders and invested her with an air of—something he had not associated with her before. He could not find the right word for it. It was not beauty. No, assuredly it was not beauty. How anyone could look beautiful with that unbecoming and all-encompassing headdress jammed on top of her head he could not imagine. But her profile was displayed to some advantage despite it, and the way she held her head and shoulders and the proud line of her back looked well this evening as the sun went down.

As he approached his horse once more, he pondered what it was exactly about her headdress that was so unflattering. It might be something to do with the flat, undecorated band she wore across her forehead, obscuring her hairline and so much as a peek of the abundant hair that was confined beneath it. Somehow the arrangement of the linen hid even her ears and neck from prying eyes. Severe, that was what it was, with no ornamentation to pretty it up and no glimpse of what was underneath.

It was the sort of garb that older women wore, or widows, who wanted to escape attention rather than draw the eye. She was a widow of course. Or had been. Was that why she wore it so plain and unadorned? Well, she was a wife now and should start to dress accordingly, he reflected as he swung back into the saddle. It was not as though she was shy or retiring by nature; so why should she dress as though she wanted to fade into the background? It did not make any sense to Jeffree. Maybe he should ask her about it?

Parts of the pass were too narrow for two horses to ride abreast of each other with comfort, so he steered Radax behind Sabina for the next hour, noting the confident way she handled Blitha. He had been right. She had a good seat on a horse. She rode directly behind the cart, so Jasper and Crispin kept up a steady flow of conversation with her, mostly about the two hounds which seemed to have completely won his brothers’ hearts.

Jasper and Brisis lay side by side on a blanket, his brother’s head propped up by his hand as he stroked the dog’s sleek belly and aimed a flow of chatter in Sabina’s direction. How old was Brisis? What was her favorite meat? Had she ever whelped any pups?

As for Crispin, he was sat up in the corner, hugging the white dog, an expression of dreamy bliss on his freckled face as Feste rested his head on the boy’s shoulder and occasionally swiped his cheek with a lolling tongue. When this happened, Crispin giggled and fondled Feste’s ears. Jeffree congratulated himself that combining the hounds with the boys had been one of his better ideas.

The rest of the day’s journey passed without incident. They paused at one point to don cloaks, for the night air had turned cold. Like the rest of her wardrobe, Sabina’s cloak was old and worn and of an indeterminate shade of brown. Jeffree did not think it could have been a handsome garment even when it was new. She seemed warm enough though, swathed in its folds, so he shrugged the matter off for now.

They reached The Nimble Goat at about half-past nine as it was starting to turn dark. Hadley and Osborn took the horses and cart into the stable and Jeffree led the way inside to procure rooms. Sir Dudley took one for himself and Maud and another for the boys and Githa. Hadley and Osborn would sleep in the communal room.

After the smallest hesitation, Jeffree reserved one room only for himself and Sabina. Anything else would look odd, he reasoned, when they were so recently wedded. He listened to Sir Dudley ordering their supper and suffered the nasty realization they would all have to dine together tonight. The look of long-suffering on his mother’s face as this occurred to her too cheered him up considerably.

Supper turned out to be a relatively subdued affair. The boys were so busily occupied with passing their meat surreptitiously to the dogs lurking under the table, that they had no time for their usual clamor. The food was good, plain fare, and Jeffree made a hearty supper. He noticed his wife did too, though his mother and stepfather only picked at theirs.

Lady Maud and Sir Dudley rose from the table first. “We will send down Githa to collect the boys,” his mother pronounced and made a moue of distaste when she saw how eagerly her sons scrabbled to throw the scraps left on her plate to the dogs.

“Wait until your mother has left the table, boys!” Sir Dudley remonstrated as his own plate was similarly seized and appropriated. “We wish you a good night’s sleep,” he directed at Sabina courteously.

“I wonder, Sir Dudley, if you would permit the dogs to sleep in with the boys and Githa tonight?” Sabina asked, earning eager gasps from his half-brothers.

“Oh, please Father!” Crispin said turning his large blue eyes upon his sire.

Jasper added his own pleas, going as far as to seize his father’s tunic in supplication.

“It is up to your mother,” Sir Dudley sighed. Lady Maud’s eyes met Sabina’s a moment and then she gave an inclination of her head which had the boys whooping. “Not so loud!” their father begged. “Many weary travelers will be wishing to get their heads down this night.”

“Thank you, Mother!” both boys caroled, hushing their voices at once.

When Githa came down, she did not seem as pleased to be sharing a bedchamber with two large hounds, but the boys joyously led them up the stairs after a hurried “goodnight” and she followed behind resignedly.

“If you put half as much effort into pleasing me as you do my brothers,” Jeffree said caustically as he lowered his tankard, “then I would be a fortunate man indeed!”

Sabina looked startled at his words, though he could not fathom why. Then she seemed to collect herself. “That was for our benefit, as much as theirs,” she assured him with an uneasy laugh. “I have shared a bedchamber before with Feste and Brisis. They hog the bed, twitch, and snore. They also smell,” she added darkly. “A thing boys will not mind as much.”

He considered this a moment. It did lend a rather different perspective onto matters. “It may be that their second owner instilled rather better etiquette into them,” he suggested.

“After observing the way they slobbered all over your brothers’ fingers throughout supper, I think that unlikely.”

Privately, Jeffree agreed with her. He let the matter drop and drained his cup. “Are you finished?” She nodded and they rose. “You go up and wash first. I want to go and check the horses and have one last word with Osborn before I follow you.”

He did not tarry over these tasks, and when he knocked on their bedchamber door ten minutes later, she drew back the bolt and let him in clad in her shift with a gray mantle thrown over it for decency’s sake. Once he was inside, she hurried straight for the bed and climbed in, turning her back to him, flinging her long braids over her shoulder. Jeffree made at once for the basin and set about his wash. The water was only tepid, but he did not concern himself about that overmuch. There were soap flakes and cloths which were more important.