Marigold Chain (31 page)

What she did
not realise was that Gresham, taunted by Sarah Marsden and piqued
by the knowledge that he had been weighed in the balance and found
wanting, had resolved to change his tactics. He bowed over her hand
and smiled at her.

‘
Mistwess
Devewil – I had begun to fear I should not find you. Whitehall is
so cwowded tonight.’

Chloë agreed
that it was.

‘
His
Majesty,’ he continued smoothly, ‘asks that you join him – and, of
course, your husband – in the yellow saloon and has sent me to
escort you there.’ He offered his arm. ‘Shall we?’

Chloë
hesitated, her mind racing. The room he spoke of was not one she
knew but, when you considered the size of Whitehall, that wasn’t
particularly surprising; and it was true that Alex was with the
King. What troubled her was an innate distrust of George Gresham
coupled with the notion that the only reason she could think of why
her presence had been requested was the trifling matter of her
annulment. Slowly, painfully, her breath leaked away behind her
cream shot-silk bodice and the hand she laid on his lordship’s
velvet-clad arm was not quite steady.

He led her out
into the corridor, along it a little way then across a gallery and
into another, all the time chatting pleasantly. Intensely
preoccupied, Chloë heeded their direction not at all and his
lordship’s conversation scarcely more so, though she occasionally
responded to it with brief monosyllabic answers. And all the time a
voice in her head was saying foolishly, ‘Please, God, let it not
happen … please, God – let it not be now.’

Gresham opened
a door and waited for her to pass through it. She entered without
thinking, heard the latch click gently shut behind her and only
then realised that they had arrived.

One of the
palace’s smaller chambers, the yellow saloon was panelled in yew
and hung with curtains of gold-coloured silk. It was furnished with
small inlaid cabinets, a high-backed couch and three carved chairs.
And, except for themselves, it was quite empty.

Her brain
functioning normally again, Chloë swept round to confront his
lordship and said, ‘Unless His Majesty is hiding under the sofa, we
seem to have made a mistake.’

The worldly
eyes examined the room with faint surprise.

‘
Perhaps
he has been delayed.’

‘
Or
perhaps,’ returned Chloë astringently, ‘he got lost on the way. I
should be obliged if you would conduct me back to the Great
Hall.’

He smiled then,
raising his brows a little.

‘
Why
certainly – all in good time. But there is no huwy for I doubt
we’ll be missed.’

Though aware
that she had been tricked, Chloë felt too relieved to be either
angry or afraid. ‘Possibly not. Nevertheless, I want to go back.’
And she moved to walk past him to the door. His arm shot out,
barring her way.

‘
Why so
cold?’ he asked, amused. ‘I won’t eat you.’

Her brows
soared derisively. ‘I know. You won’t get the chance. Now let me
pass.’

‘
Pwesently, my dear. You see, you are such a cold little fish
that I weally must discover if you have any warmth in you at all.’
His arms closed round her. ‘Or is it,’ he murmured provocatively,
‘all weserved for Alex?’

‘
Well at
least he doesn’t need to resort to trickery,’ snapped Chloë. ‘And
if he did, I feel sure he’d think of something more original. Now –
stop being ridiculous and let me go.’

His answer was
to swoop on her mouth in a long, fierce kiss and Chloë, who had
been expecting it, neither struggled nor responded but remained
passively inert, waiting for an opportunity to hit him where it
hurt. Lifting his head, Lord Gresham said nastily, ‘If that’s how
you tweat your husband, I’m not surpwised he went to sea.’

‘
Aren’t
you, my dear?’ said a pleasantly mocking voice from behind
him.

With an oath,
Gresham released Chloë and wheeled to confront Mr Deveril, his face
flushing with annoyance.

‘
What the
hell - - ‘ he began hastily and then stopped.

‘
Am I
doing here?’ finished Alex, his mouth curling unpleasantly. ‘Saving
my honour, it seems.’ He walked up to Chloë who closed her mouth
and tried not to blush, ‘And yours. I thought I warned you about
lonely antechambers?’

‘
You
did,’ she replied weakly. ‘But I expected to find the King in this
one. And you.’

He tutted
reprovingly. ‘Some people will believe anything. And some other
people,’ he said, looking at his lordship, ‘can only be glad of
it.’

Gresham, who
already felt both foolish and alarmed, made an effort to recover
his dignity. Blustering a little, he said, ‘It was less than
nothing. A little flirtation, nothing more. But if you want to make
an issue of it, there are accepted civilised standards.’

Allowing
regret to seep into every syllable, Alex said, ‘But I, being a
nasty common soldier, am not civilised at all. My inclinations are
really quite crude … and the one I feel at the moment is to knock
your teeth down your throat.’ He drew Chloë gently to the door and
then looked back. ‘I’ll restrain myself because I don’t want my
wife edified by the sight of me pasting you to the wall. But if you
ever lay a hand on her again … if I hear you’ve been discussing her
in any terms but those of purest courtesy, I’ll do it. In fact, I
shall
enjoy
doing it.’ And
before Gresham could think of a reply, they had gone.

Retracing their
steps along the endless corridors and galleries, it was a long time
before either of them spoke and Chloë, her soul awash with unholy
glee, was not sure that she could. Finally, after they had
collected their cloaks, she looked up at him rather shyly and said,
‘Did you mean it? About pasting him to the wall, I mean?’

His glance was
mildly surprised. ‘In essence – though perhaps not literally. Of
course. Why not?’

She drew a long
breath. ‘Oh. Thank you.’

He was amused.
‘For what? Not offering to fight a duel on your behalf – or
preserving the sanctity of our annulment?’

Chloë’s joy
evaporated with unpleasant rapidity.

Unaware of it,
Alex went on blithely, ‘Not that it would have come to that.
Gresham may be a fool and a libertine but I never heard him accused
of rape. Or alternatively,’ he grinned, ‘you could have consented
and then summoned him as principal witness for the defence. He’d
have loved that.’

It was more
than Chloë could tolerate and, pulling her hand free of his arm,
she stalked quickly away from him and out into the still, starry
darkness. Without even pausing to think, she moved with a swift
flurry of skirts across the court and through the chequered arch
into King Street. Then a hand closed firmly round her wrist and Mr
Deveril swung her round to face him.

‘
Chloë,
I’m sorry. That was in poor taste. Forget, if you can, that I said
it.’

She looked at
him, her eyes wide and bleak.

‘
Just
tell me one thing.
Did you mean that as
well?
’

His hand fell
away from her as if burned. He said quietly, ‘No. But if you need
to ask, then I doubt my saying so will convince you.’

Revulsion
became repentance and, feeling a lump hardening in her throat,
Chloë hunted fruitlessly for her handkerchief and gave a wail of
prosaic anguish.

The tension
vanished. Alex dug deep into his pocket and pulled out, not a
handkerchief, but a folded piece of paper. For a second, flicking
it open, he stared at it faintly puzzled; then Chloë sniffed
despairingly and he pushed it away, fished in the other pocket and
produced a piece of soft cambric which he placed in her hand.

‘
I seem,’
he said dryly, ‘to be making a habit of this.’

Chloë mopped
her face, blew her nose and then shook her head.

‘
I’m
sorry. It’s been a difficult day - but I don’t suppose yours has
been any better so it was unfair of me to enact you a tragedy. Of
course I know you didn’t mean it.’

‘
Chloë,
no.’ He swung round to face her and, taking the damp handkerchief
from her to shove it back in his pocket, grasped her hands. ‘The
fault was wholly mine and you should have slapped me. In fact, I
wish you had. I wouldn’t feel such a bastard.’ A glint of humour
re-appeared in his eyes and he raised her right hand towards his
cheek, ‘Shall I show you how? It might come in useful.’

She shook her
head and managed a watery chuckle. ‘Next time, perhaps.’

‘
There
had better not be a next time.’ He examined her face. ‘Am I
forgiven?’

‘
Yes.’
She couldn’t quite resist laying her palm briefly against his face.
‘Of course.’ And then, trying to hide the tell-tale impulse by
withdrawing her hands from his in order to pull her cloak about
her, said thoughtlessly, ‘It’s only that you spoiled the
moment.’

‘
Moment?’
He looked bewildered. ‘What moment?’

‘
You
coming to find me and arriving just when I needed you – then
threatening Lord Gresham the way you did – and not saying a single
word about how stupid I’d been.’ She stole a glance up at him and
was surprised by the sudden grimness of his expression. ‘I know I
shouldn’t have believed – ‘

‘
Stop. I
know I’m a bastard – I already admitted it. I open my mouth and say
things I shouldn’t. I’m always doing it. And I know I deserve to be
made to grovel but there’s nothing you can say that can make me
feel worse than I do already.’

Chloë stared at
him blankly. ‘That wasn’t what I was doing.’

‘
I know
it wasn’t. That’s the trouble.’ Alex drew a long breath and then,
loosing it, said, ‘Enough. Let’s walk … before I decide to fall on
my sword and have done with it.’

Unsure how to
take this, Chloë merely nodded and took his arm.

It was late and
the wide, cobbled thoroughfare of the Strand was deserted as they
walked silently past the New Exchange and the Savoy Palace. After a
time, they held a desultory conversation about Alex’s time at sea
and Chloë’s cargo lodged in the Vintry. At Temple Bar they joined
Fleet Street and moved on past St Dunstan-in-the-West and up
Ludgate Hill into the City. It was as they entered St Paul’s Court
that a very faint sound reached Mr Deveril’s ears; the sound of
metal scraping stone. He grasped Chloë’s wrist warningly and
stopped for a second to listen. One slight, muffled clink and then
nothing.

Moving on
again, Alex released Chloë and loosened his sword in its sheath.
Then he looked down at her, laid a finger against his lips and gave
a brief, reassuring smile.

‘
Footpads?’ thought Chloë, her ears straining to hear sounds
beyond the gentle rustling of her skirts. Then she caught
something; a low whistle from in front of them. And glancing
quickly at Mr Deveril, saw that he had heard it too.

They had
reached the end of the south transept and Chloë was wondering, with
a sort of academic interest, why she wasn’t more frightened, when
Alex stopped again. She had just time to be aware that there were
shapes emerging from the shadows of the houses to their right when
his hand closed on her arm like the jaws of a trap and propelled
her behind him with a force that spun her hard against the wall of
the cathedral. Then, in two fluid moves, he tore off his cloak and
drew his sword.

Eyes alert,
Alex held the cloak to one side while his blade swept a gleaming
arc in front of him, causing the would-be assailants who emerged
from the shadows to falter. Then they were on him – one holding a
sword and the other two armed with cudgels and knives. Alex twisted
to engage the first man while deflecting a cudgel blow to his head
with his cloak-swathed forearm. He lunged and there was a grunt as
the first man crumpled and then, wrenching his blade free, Alex
stepped back to make another steely sweep at the pair in front of
him. A billet took him hard on the shoulder making him stagger but
then the sword drove home again and the second attacker dropped
back clutching his arm and turned to run. Alex caught the third
man’s blade in the folds of his cloak, ducked to avoid a swinging
blow to his ear while at the same time making a hard, upwards
thrust of his sword arm. There was an unpleasant choking sound and
the man dropped like a stone, his throat pierced below the jaw.

For an instant
Mr Deveril remained poised, gazing in the direction taken by the
second man, then, shaking his arm free of the cloak, came slowly
back to Chloë.

‘
Are you
all right?’ His breathing was a little fast but he sounded
perfectly calm.

‘
Of
course. Are you?’ She was pleased to find that her voice was as
steady as his.

Alex nodded
briefly. ‘Stay here for a moment. I won’t be long.’ Then he turned
and went back to the two corpses.

Watching him
wipe his blade clean of their blood, Chloë shivered a little. She
had always known that Mr Deveril was a swordsman of some ability;
what she’d never fully appreciated was that he was a
professional.

He came back to
her holding a dagger taken from one of the bodies and closed her
fingers round the hilt. ‘Only a precaution. I doubt we’ll be
attacked again but, just in case, I’d like you to carry this for
me. Don’t worry – you won’t have to use it. Now, keep close to me
but don’t talk. Ready?’

She smiled and
nodded.

‘
Good
girl. Everything’s going to be all right.’

They moved on
between the massive, crumbling wall of the cathedral and the
shadowy houses. At the end of St Paul’s Court, they crossed the
lower end of Old Change into Watling Street and were just
approaching the junction with Canning Street when they heard the
sound of running feet from somewhere not far behind them.