The sudden drop in her anger surprised him. He'd been gearing for battle; a nasty one by the look of it. And now that her tactics had changed, Drystan's footing was less sure than it had been. Oh, he was still furious. Now he knew not only that he wasn't being told the truth, but that it had to be kept from him. But now he wasn't sure if that's what this was, a tactical change from anger to pleading, to have him soften towards her, or something else. Something genuine. And even if it was genuine, what could be so terrible that she had to keep it from him, but for that one horrible thing that kept poking and prodding at him, even as he refused to give name to it.
No, he didn't know what his wife was up to, and suddenly, he was no longer sure he wanted to know. Up til now, Bess had never had any cause to keep things from him. Drystan didn't know what it meant that she was suddenly doing it now, but it didn't sit with him, and he didn't need to tolerate it.
"If I've kept things from you, it was never with the intention to hurt you. If you'd asked, I would always have said it. I didn't talk about the Puddlemere trade, true enough, as I was afraid it might not go through and you'd think the less of me for it."
He had to pause, as he studied her dispassionately, reigning in his control which continued its threat of slipping beyond his grasp.
"I don't know what game you're playing at, Bess," Drystan said finally, when he knew he could speak curtly, with his icy remoteness in place, "but I don't want any part of it. When you feel you can trust me with your secrets," he said the word as though it were a curse as he backed away from the table, "whatever they may be, you know where I'll be."
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