“Winter, is it customary for you to sleep in until luncheon?” Rupert came in through the door that August had left open.“Leave us.” He swept his arm at Sigmund and August. “I wish to speak to my husband in private.”
“Rupert dear, how lovely and unexpected to see you.” Winter gave his husband one of his best social smiles. “You’re looking a little harried. I’ve just ordered some refreshments, please take a seat, and I’m sure Jeremy will deliver them directly. Thank you both,” he added to Sigmund and August, who were leaving. “I will talk to you later.”
“Now then, Rupert.” Winter watched as his husband dithered for a moment and then took a seat. “What exciting things have you been up to since we wed?”
Rupert glanced at the door, but the moment it was closed, he said, “Do you honestly sleep in until luncheon every day?”
Winter laughed, although he wished he hadn’t as another pain shot through his gut. “On the contrary, I’m typically an early riser. I had an engagement outside of the castle this morning, and when I returned, I felt the need to rest. My staff know that I prefer to remain undisturbed if I’m in my bedchamber – it’s one of the few places I prefer absolute privacy for myself. I apologize that my staff didn’t let me know when you arrived home. I will speak to them about it.”
“Your brother isn’t staff. He could’ve disturbed you.” Rupert only seemed slightly mollified.
“I come from a very large royal household, with numerous siblings. There were many times when our bedchambers were the only place a prince or princess could get some privacy. We all tend to respect that.” Winter widened his smile, so Rupert wouldn’t think he was being attacked in any way. “I will admit to being surprised that you are here. Was your hunting successful? Isn’t the Middlethorp ball being held tomorrow night? I was informed you would be in attendance.”
Folding his arms across what Winter could appreciate was a very wide chest, Rupert scowled. “People are gossiping that I’m an unfit husband, and I think damn Tristan is trying to blackmail me by wanting to set up house with me. What are you going to do about it?”
Oh, dear.Winter blinked once, twice, and then quickly put his hand up to his mouth. It didn’t appear that Rupert would take kindly to being laughed at. “Perhaps you’d better give me a few more details, Rupert dear. I fear I’m at a loss to know what it is you want me to say.”
Chapter Eleven
Why does he keep calling me Rupert dear? Is he being overly familiar with me?Rupert wasn’t sure. To be honest, he wasn’t sure why he needed to speak with his husband at all. After Tristan refused to apologize to him that morning, or more correctly, was conspicuous by his absence, all Rupert wanted was to see Winter.
He hadn’t had any sleep. He was fairly sure Tristan was determined to back him into a situation he might never get out of. People were talking about him, behind his back, and they weren’t being nice. For whatever reason, it made sense in Rupert’s head that the one person who didn’t make sense in his life was the same person who might be able to shed some light on everything that seemed to be crumbling around Rupert’s ears.
He was given a moment to collect his thoughts when one of the footmen came in carrying a large tray. Setting the contents down on the table between them, the footman poured two coffees and then quietly asked if they needed anything else.
“No, thank you, Jeremy,” Winter said with the same smile. “Enjoy your break, and thank Mary for the lovely sandwiches. They look delightful.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Jeremy bowed low and disappeared as quietly as he’d arrived.
“Now we can have some privacy.” Winter added a few cubes of sugar to his coffee, stirred it quickly, before putting down the spoon and picking up his cup. “It appears that while I thought you were off having high times and fun adventures with your friends, you seem to have had a rough time of it. What happened to cause you such distress?”
“I didn’t want anything to change.” Rupert snatched up a handful of sugar cubes and dumped them in his cup, stirringfuriously. “My father expected me to marry. I’m sure you’re already aware of that. I did that. I married you. But then, you changed our marriage contract, and my father invited all of my friends to the wedding. Now everywhere I go, people are annoyed at me because you’re not with me, and damn Tristan… I can’t believe Tristan would behave in such a disgusting manner.”
“Everyone I’ve spoken to in the past week has all told me about the close friendship you and Lord Middlethorp enjoy.” Winter smiled over the edge of his cup. He had very long and slender fingers. “I’m sure, if Lord Middlethorp said or did something untoward…?”
“He didn’t do anything. It’s what he said…what he implied…” Rupert said quickly. “I have never been interested in that man in that way. This is your fault. You changed the contract after I signed it…”
Winter held up a finger, and Rupert stopped. “You were the one who insisted on completing a marriage contract with me, Rupert dear. I did not ask for it. And I do believe we’ve already discussed why I insisted on a fidelity clause in our marriage. That’s not up for debate. I refuse to be made a fool of.
“In my experience, especially with working in and around the World Council, I have come across many instances where society and royal family members have made a mockery of the vows they shared with their spouse. I refuse to be one of those cases. As I said before, I didn’t ask for this marriage, but when I spoke my vows, I meant them and I expect you to honor them, too. Now, what did Tristan do or say to upset you so badly?”
“He was referring to Serron and that new spouse of his, Patin.” Rupert quickly swallowed a few mouthfuls of coffee. “It was his opinion that the two men had been intimate for a very long time, and that Serron purchased the Folkon estate for the sole purposeof providing a private place where they could be intimate together away from the castle.”
“I see.” Winter’s sip from his cup was far more genteel than Rupert could ever manage. “For what it’s worth, Lord Middlethorp’s theory is correct to a certain point. King Serron did purchase Folkon for Consort Patin, but it was gifted to him early in their relationship.
“I can also tell you, and I received this information from a reliable source, that when Serron was still a Crown Prince, like you, he was being pushed to marry. Like you, his father was seriously ill and not expected to live long. His father would not accept Patin as his spouse, despite that being Serron’s deepest wish. It was decided that Serron and Patin would approach Prince Jaq as a possible spouse for Serron. They did that, together, and told Prince Jaq the truth about their relationship, leaving it up to him to decide whether he was prepared to marry Serron, essentially in name only. Although, I believe that situation has now changed. But that was the original agreement between them.”
Rupert frowned. “Jaq knew about Serron and Patin’s intimacies when he married Serron?”
Winter nodded. “From before the contract was signed, to my understanding. I only bring this up because of the giant flaw in what I’m imagining Lord Middlethorp’s plan to be. Serron could continue his relationship with Patin after marrying Jaq, because Jaq already knew about it and agreed to it, to the point of forging a friendship with Patin himself. There also wasn’t a fidelity clause in Serron and Jaq’s marriage contract.”
“Well, shit!” Putting down his cup, Rupert ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been spun so much bullshit. That damn Tristan.”
“Is it possible Lord Middlethorp hoped to be your Patin, so to speak?”
“Yes. No. I’m really not sure.” Rupert looked at his husband, really looked at him. Looking as though he were fresh out of bed, there was something appealing about the man. “He wanted me to gift him a house and title, separate from his family. He offered to…be with me, in that way.” Rupert didn’t mention rubbing Winter’s face in it. He had a feeling that was a step too far. “Rather than be flattered, or even consider it, I felt cornered and disgusted. If I did such a thing, he would have the potential to blackmail me for the rest of my life, and I can’t help but think that’s what he intended.”
“I’ve always believed it’s a good idea to trust your instincts in such matters,” Winter said quietly. “It has been mentioned to me by more than one person in the past week that Lord Middlethorp has an unusually intense interest in the decline of your father’s health. Being the paramour of a crown prince is one thing – when that person becomes king, the stakes are so much higher.”
