A Wager for the Widow. Elisabeth Hobbes
looked like a lost sailor who needed rescuing from a sea of boredom,’ Rudhale murmured as they walked along the corridor.
He wore his customary cocksure expression, as though he viewed himself as a knight errant who had saved Eleanor from certain death rather than a slightly tedious afternoon of sewing.
‘What a vivid image. Perhaps you should become a bard when you tire of stewardship,’ she suggested.
‘I’ve done many jobs in my time, but I’ll admit that isn’t one I’ve considered.’ He fixed her with a wicked smile. ‘Perhaps I need something to inspire me. Or someone.’
Eleanor blushed at his insinuation. She gave him a hard stare to disguise her discomfiture. ‘Isn’t it rather beneath you to deliver a summons?’ she asked. ‘Has Father run out of messenger boys?’
Rudhale raised his eyebrows, though Eleanor could not tell if he was pretending to be offended or if her words had really stung him.
‘He asked me to find you,’ the steward said. ‘I like to take care of important tasks myself wherever possible.’
He sounded sincere, but almost out of habit Eleanor rolled her eyes. Seeing the gesture, Rudhale frowned.
‘Do you doubt me, my lady? Haven’t you seen enough to convince you I take my duties seriously?’
He sounded genuinely offended now and a needle of shame pricked Eleanor’s conscience. Certainly this morning in the granary he had shown more conscientiousness than she would have expected and the meal last night had been excellent. She looked down at her hands, knowing she was being unjust.
‘I apologise,’ she said quietly. ‘Other than our first meeting I have no grounds to doubt you.’
Rudhale nodded his head in satisfaction. His face softened once more and he held out a hand to Eleanor. Recognising the peace gesture, she accepted his arm.
‘You seem to have done many different jobs?’ she asked curiously. ‘Is it the places you tire of or the roles?’
Rudhale looked thoughtful. ‘A little of both, perhaps. I have no ties to bind me and one should never pass up the opportunity to experience something new.’ He tipped his head to one side and raised an eyebrow, leaving Eleanor wondering what he wanted to experience with her. Rudhale changed the subject, however.
‘Aren’t you curious why Sir Edgar wants you?’ he asked as they walked along the dimly lit corridor.
‘Do you know?’ Eleanor asked suspiciously. She had thought nothing of it, but now she was alert. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.
The steward tilted his head in acknowledgment. ‘I do. I could tell you if you wish,’ he suggested teasingly.
‘And what would the price of that information be?’ Eleanor asked. Her mind went back to his suggestion of a suitable form of payment on the ferry. Before he could answer she said, ‘I am more than happy to hear it from my father’s own lips. Yours may stay closed.’
Rudhale laughed. ‘Do you believe this is some ruse to get you alone?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Is that what you hoped?’ he asked with a wily smile.
Eleanor lifted her chin and glared at him. ‘Of course not,’ she declared, before relenting slightly. ‘Though another half-hour of listening to the maids gossiping and I may have taken the chance anyway.’
Rudhale’s eyes crinkled at the corners. Eleanor’s stomach curled around itself. She dropped her head and walked faster.
The staircase was narrow and the two moved closer together. Momentarily their shoulders brushed, before Rudhale released Eleanor’s arm and stood back to let her pass. As she stepped, her crutch slipped on the oak floor. Her ankle gave a twinge and she drew her breath sharply. Instantly Rudhale’s hand shot out to her waist, steadying her, fingers spreading wide across her back. His arm was as firm as a rock and a shiver passed through Eleanor’s body as she leaned against him. She allowed him to take her weight and hoped he could not tell the sensation his touch had produced in her.
‘It would be much more convenient if my parents would inhabit rooms next door to each other instead of at other ends of the building,’ she said crossly as she descended the staircase.
‘Different floors, different rooms and different interests? It isn’t uncommon,’ Rudhale remarked lightly.
Eleanor gave a vague murmur of agreement. She had often wondered about her parents’ marriage. The ambitious baron had courted and won the niece of a duke, but Eleanor had never known if there was anything beyond the attraction of the dowry. Would her own marriage have been the same? she wondered. Forty years of indifferent conversation and dutiful lovemaking? What had she said to Edmund? Safe and peaceful? And utterly devoid of passion. Not for the first time she thanked her stars that the prospect of that was over and done with. Her conscience stabbed her, reminding her of the price Baldwin had paid for her freedom and she winced with guilt.
‘Not that I ever intend to marry, but it occurs to me that if I needed to separate myself from my wife that much, the marriage would not be worth speaking of,’ Rudhale said thoughtfully.
‘You don’t intend to?’ Surprised, Eleanor glanced at him.
Rudhale gave a careless shrug. ‘How long do you think desire would last if your choice was ill made? Why take the chance?’
It was almost as though he had read her thoughts. The certainty with which he spoke of irritated her however. Eleanor’s cheeks coloured and the blood thumped in her ears.
‘At least if you did marry the choice—and the mistake—would be yours to make,’ she replied, more bitterly than she’d intended. ‘You will never be sold off for financial advancement, or your family’s position. It’s easy to speak of love when that is the only factor you need consider.’
It was the first time she had voiced her feelings to anyone so clearly. How did Rudhale constantly provoke her to be so unguarded?
‘I didn’t mention love,’ Rudhale said smoothly. He fixed Eleanor with an unyielding look, his lips curling into a hard smile. ‘And it’s easy to speak of money when you have it.’
‘Is that why you won’t marry?’ Eleanor asked.
A momentary expression of hardness flitted across Rudhale’s face. ‘My reasons are my own,’ he replied curtly. Eleanor blinked in surprise and, seeing her expression, Rudhale’s face softened once more.
‘Your father will be waiting. We should hurry.’ He strode down the passageway, leaving Eleanor behind and burning with curiosity.
* * *
Sir Edgar was standing looking out of the window when they arrived.
‘Ah, you found her, William, well done. Eleanor, good of you to come so quickly,’ he said. Rudhale bowed and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
‘Eleanor, as you know our guests will be arriving shortly. There is a great deal to prepare and time is running short.’ Sir Edgar gestured to the table that was piled high with rolled scrolls and heavy books. ‘You will assist William in making the arrangements.’
‘I will what?’ The exclamation burst from Eleanor before she could stop herself. She folded her arms and looked at her father in astonishment. Whatever reasons she could have imagined, this had never occurred to her.
‘You heard me,’ Sir Edgar said. ‘William is capable, but is stretched to his limit already.’ He took one of Eleanor’s hands and patted it. It was the same gesture he had done to cajole her ever since her childhood, and despite herself Eleanor smiled. ‘Also, it is my opinion that you need something to occupy your days, my dear. It seems to me to be the perfect solution.’
‘Father, I don’t know...’ she began hesitantly. She stopped as a suspicion occurred to her. ‘Does Master Rudhale agree to this?’
‘Of