Chapter Four - Brushing with Almost

She was skimming pebbles over the lake. He watched her for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets, and then he turned his eyes to the water. Each stone was dropping right in, without skipping over the surface.

"You should try smoother pebbles, my lady."

He waited as she span to face him, squinting and shielding her eyes so she could see who he was.

"Good day, Sir Gareth." She turned away from him, her back visibly tensing.

"Hello, Lady Roxanne," he replied, sauntering down the hill to stand next to her. He heard her suck in her breath sharply. Sensibly putting it down to whatever she had told Cythera, rather than his devastatingly good looks or (more worryingly) his odour, he ignored her attempts to subtly shift away from him and poked through the pebbles at his feet.

"Try this one," he said finally, offering her a rounder pebble.

Roxanne took it, muttered a grudging, "Thank you," and hurled it into the water.

"Not like that," he chided, managing to stop himself likening her to a salivating Scanran hurling a spear. That would not get her on his side, and then he would never find out what she had said to her sister. "Allow me." He picked up another pebble and, with a flick of the wrist, sent it skimming across the water - once, twice, three times - before it plopped underneath the surface.

"I'm out of practise, of course," he said ruefully. "The Prince and I used to come here a lot, though, when we were younger."

It felt strange talking to Roxanne outside a ballroom, and stranger still to be talking to her normally, without stinging insults or stilted, polite conversation. For a moment, when he turned to look at her, she looked beautiful. Although that, he supposed, was because her mouth was shut for once.

The effect was entirely ruined when she shot him a cold look. She laced her fingers together, once more becoming the demure Court lady. "Would I be correct in supposing you have come to discuss my sister, Sir Gareth?"

So they were going to do this now. Well, at least he didn't have to spend time fashioning small talk. Gary sat down and gestured for her to do the same. "I came to hear whatever you wish to say, Lady Roxanne. If you do not wish to say anything about Cythera, far be it from me to force you to do so."

She shrugged and spread her skirts out as she sat down. He saw her eyes narrow, assessing his words for a hidden threat or insult, and despair set in. He needed to show her he was in earnest or she would tie his tongue in knots and leave him more confused than before, and so he reached out to her. He didn't know what he meant to do, yet found himself taking her hand in his. "My lady, clearly there is still some ill feeling between us. I should like to resolve it - not for your sister, or any other member of your family, for you and for me."

This appeared to appease Roxanne. She glanced down at their entwined hands, and he held his breath. Unbelievably, she relaxed. "She came to bel- It... that is to say, going to-" She paused, and stared very hard at a point somewhere to the left of Gary. A faint blush stained her pale cheeks. "I think it would help if I knew how much you knew."

It was difficult for him not to snap at her. He thought carefully before replying, "Just start at the beginning and we'll see how much needs filling in afterwards."

She nodded reluctantly, nose wrinkling slightly, and scanned the forest, as though looking for somebody to take over the telling for her. "I'm only doing this for Cythera, you understand, because - because I hate having to lie to her." She hesitated again before continuing. "My mother, when she was my age, became the favourite at Court very quickly. Within a couple of days, she had the Crown Prince and your father falling over themselves to propose to her. And, well, then there was Cythera, who had all these dreams of Court and her older sister, and I... do I really have to go on?"

Gary merely nodded in reply, all the while fighting the urge to grin at the thought of Uncle Roald (who had never shown any interest in any woman besides Aunt Lianne) and his father (whom he was certain had never fallen over anything, especially not for a proposal) arguing over Roxanne's mother. Arguing over Cythera's mother was more understandable, but unfortunately somehow Roxanne's and Cythera's mothers were one and the same.

"Well, anyway, Cythera was so disappointed when the Prince didn't fall for me - I didn't think he would, because he's so unimaginative. But she kept asking me who I was going to marry." Roxanne licked her lips carefully and watched him, trying to judge his reaction. "So, eventually, I gave her your name. And if you don't believe anything else I say, please know that I didn't mean anything to come of it. I thought you would keep away from her, I thought she would keep away from you, and I thought you would be married by the time she arrived..." She trailed off, looking down at the grass.

Gary wondered if he should remain silent; if speaking would give her a loophole rather than securing the noose. Oddly, he found himself not caring very much. Roxanne had lied, in a manner that called his own reputation into question, and he should feel disgusted with her. He should want to march back to the castle and tell Cythera everything. But, for some reason, he didn't. It wasn't as though Roxanne had gained anything by lying. He cleared his throat. "Why me?"

Roxanne's eyes seemed to have locked onto his face. She half-smiled. "I thought that would be the one thing you wouldn't need to ask. You're - well, you're Sir Gareth. The Prince's cousin, son to the busiest man in Tortall and-" A slight blush suffused her cheeks. "You're charming. Or, at least, you were."

In an attempt to diffuse the atmosphere, he asked, "Am I not still charming?"

She looked uncertain how to respond, then smiled nervously. "You use your charm sparingly now. It's only a supposition, but my sister is easily charmed, and from what she's told me, you haven't bothered with her at all."

It was his turn to be lost for words. He shredded the petals of a flower whilst he thought. "It always appears to me as though she has quite enough people to charm her without me adding to it."

"Sir Alexander of Tirragen has been particularly charming," Roxanne said meaningfully, fiddling with the edges of her dress. She missed Gary's expression of surprise. He had noticed Alex hanging around Cythera, but that was not out of the ordinary - all the boys flocked to the beautiful blonde.

"I do not like him," Roxanne continued. This was also not unexpected. Roxanne seemed to reserve the same respect for people that most nobles might reserve for a particularly pungent pigsty. "He thrives on the misfortune of others. And he walks around like the Goddess herself gave birth to him and he can't quite understand why he's stuck in the Mortal Realms."

Gary snorted with laughter and opened his mouth to defend Alex, but the words wouldn't come, even though he knew Roxanne's dislike of Alex had been founded by his snubbing her in the first place. Instead, he asked, "How do you know Alex has been paying special attention to your sister?"

Roxanne gave him an incredulous look. "Sir Gareth, I know my sister. She talks of him often - more so than she talks of any other suitor, and she's always recounting their discussions." She allowed this to sink in, then continued, "I dislike asking you to do this, but I would thoroughly appreciate it if there was anything you could do to ensure she is kept away from him. She doesn't quite understand court games, and she just protests that I haven't troubled myself to get to know him."

From the sound of it, Roxanne might have the measure of Alex better than Cythera, or even Gary. Gary frowned and stored the matter away to consider later. Maybe he'd ask Roger about Alex's behaviour.

"I'll see what I can do." Gary paused, trying to think of a conversation topic that was safe and argument-free. "So, I hear I am to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding."

At first, he had thought he pitied Lord Martin for his future spouse. Then, as Douglass had recalled the numerous times Geoffrey's pranks had been blamed on Gary, he had thought maybe she deserved that family. Now, as he looked at the expression on Roxanne's face, he realised he felt pity for Roxanne. Marrying a man who had already been married, who had a son scarcely younger than Roxanne herself, couldn't be easy on her.

"Having met him, I think I can understand why people say they feel they must offer congratulations, rather than giving their congratulations freely." Her mouth tightened. "Mother says he's a good match, and I could do worse."

Mother hadn't said she could do better. "He is a good man, Roxanne. He's got a good heart, even-"

Even if he doesn't show it.

Gary bit his lip and looked down, his eyes falling on their interlinked hands. He had forgotten they even held hands. He squeezed her fingers gently, and Roxanne glanced up. Their gazes met, and Gary felt as though something was fluttering in the pit of his stomach. He wet his lips and leaned forward ever so slightly, and ever so hesitantly, until -

Roxanne drew back, shaking her head. "Thank you, Sir Gareth," she said formally. "I hope I proved useful."

Awkwardly, he pulled his hand free of hers. "Call me Gary," he suggested.

Surprise, then gratitude flickered in her eyes. "Then thank you, Gary."