Page 43 of A Husband for Esyllt
“Who?”
“Don’t play the innocent with me, you know perfectly well who I’m talking about. Forgive me if I don’t know my husband’s leman by name.” Were there more than one? Was that why he was confused?
Matthew sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Connor did not spend the day in a woman’s arms. God knows I would have preferred him to.” This was such a shocking thing to tell a man’s wife that Esyllt instantly believed him. Disapproving of her as he may be, her brother-in-law would not have dared tellher to her face that he regretted her husband had not spent the day rutting away with another woman.
No. She was now certain of it, Connor had spent the day alone.
“Then... What happened? Is he prone to spending days lying in bed thus?”
“No.” Matthew gave another sigh. Esyllt saw his eyes flicker toward the floor next to the bed. Now that her anger had dissipated somewhat, she saw a cup and a jug next to a puddle of dark liquid she assumed to be wine.
“I see,” she said frostily. “He decided to drink himself into a stupor instead of coming with me to the village as planned. Well, I cannot say I’m impressed.”
She didn’t know whether to be relieved to see that he was not with a woman or horrified by what she was seeing. Was her husband a drunkard? She had never suspected it, certainly since their wedding he had not given her any indication that he might like drinking to excess. But there was no mistaking the tableau in front of her.
“Listen,” Matthew said, sounding like his usual unbearable self once more. “You don’t know Connor. You cannot judge him on what you?—”
“You mean that heisa drunkard and that this is nothing you have not seen before, that I should expect such behavior in the future?” How was that supposed to reassure her?
“No. And if only you listened to me, I might tell you what I mean.” He was now exasperated, but Esyllt did not see why she should try to be more patient. She was annoyed as well. Justwhatwas happening here?
As if guessing she was about to lose her mind, Connor stirred. He gave a groan and turned to face them, confusion etched all over his face. Esyllt threw him a look as cold as she could muster.
“Awake, husband? Do not tell me we disturbed you?” she sneered. “I’m sorry, we didn’t think anyone would object to hearing people move about and talk. It is, after all, well past the nooning hour.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her with eyes that had lost some of their usual spark. She frowned. In this moment he did not look like a man befuddled by drink, but rather like a...
She blinked. Had he been crying? The answer hit her with the force of a clap of thunder.
Yes, he had.
Her anger disappeared in the blink of an eye and she took an involuntary step forward. It seemed that for the second time in just a few weeks, she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Just like she had when she’d first heard of Jane, she had been quick to accuse him of duplicity when it seemed he had a genuine reason for acting the way he had.
“My lord? Are you well?” she asked tentatively. “What is it?”
“Do you want me to talk to her, Brother?” Matthew asked from behind her. For once, Esyllt did not bristle. It did not sound as if he was interfering where he had no reason to, rather it was obvious he was trying to help his brother out of a difficult situation, an intention that found favour with her.
“No, I will do it, thank you.” Connor’s voice sounded rough but he looked determined—and sober—enough to do it. Esyllt braced herself, wondering if she wanted to know what the matter was after all.
“Please don’t be too harsh on him,” Matthew said, looking at her squarely.
Her eyes widened. What was going on here? Before she could say anything he left the room, closing the door behind him.
“What’s the matter?” Esyllt croaked, coming forward. She was now truly worried. What terrible secret was her husbandhiding from her? Was he ill and trying to drown his fear at the prospect? Her insides twisted in fear. No! Not him as well! He was a picture of strength and health such as Gwyn had never been, surely he could not be at death’s door? “Are you unwell?”
There was such dread in her voice that Connor instantly reassured her, using the word she had not dared use. “No. I’m not dying.”
Slowly, the blood returned to her veins. If he was not about to die, then she could start breathing again. Still, something was definitely wrong. He had not shaved, his jaw was shadowed by a dark stubble that should have made him appear unkempt. But all it did was draw attention to his manly face and offer a contrast to his green eyes.
“I’m sorry I did not come with you to the reeve’s election. It was my intention to go, as you know, but at the last moment I could not. I had not realized what day it would be when I sent word to the village.”
Oh God, the reeve’s election. Lost to her worry, she’d had forgotten all about that. She shook her head. “It’s not a problem. But will you tell me what’s wrong?”
By now, she had understood that it was not a whim or a mark of disinterest on his part. The fact that he had apologized for it immediately and unprompted was enough to tell her he had a serious motive for letting her go on her own.
“Today is the feast of St Philip and James,” he started. She waited. Was that supposed to mean anything to her? Because it did not. “Last year on that day my wife died, whilst giving birth to my baby girl.”
Esyllt froze. He’d lost a child? She’d had no idea, and she could not imagine suffering a worst loss.
