The Boleyn Deceit (19 page)

“I thought the court lived by its own rules. Dominic, don’t you ever wish—”

He had to cut her off before she could name any of the many things he wished. “Not like that, my love. I will not take you in
secret. I will marry you when William gives his consent and not a moment before.”

It was harsh, because it had to be harsh.

Though he had reveled in being alone with Minuette, there were perils in it as well. One night the first week they had stayed up late playing chess. Dominic was not nearly as good a player as William or Minuette, but the attraction had not really been the game but the chance to sit across from her and watch her breathing and the way the tip of her tongue stuck out when she concentrated. By the time Dominic had lost his fourth game to her, he didn’t care about discretion any longer.

They had kissed in the firelit solitude of the medieval hall until he couldn’t think of anything but the feel of her and how badly he wanted his hands on her skin and not the fabric of her dress, and then Minuette had broken away and said, “The hall is not especially private. Perhaps not the wisest place to …”

She had trailed off and though he thought she meant it invitingly, he couldn’t allow himself to follow that thought or the possible invitation. He had turned away so she might not see how she’d aroused him and said shakily, “Not wise at all. Goodnight, Minuette.”

He had put a chair in front of his own door that night, so that if he tried to go to her, he would be reminded that he shouldn’t. Couldn’t.

They had taken care not to stay up so late again.

But as they rode back to Wynfield from her perfect little abandoned church, he found himself thinking, Tonight is our last night. Perhaps I can allow myself to slip just a little.

A hope that was dashed the moment he saw the royal standard flying from the courtyard of Minuette’s home.

William met them in the hall, springing up from his sprawled position in a chair to hug Minuette fiercely.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sounding not nearly as rattled as Dominic felt.

“I missed you,” he said into her hair and, after much too long, released her. “The French left two days ago and I couldn’t stay away. Thank goodness Dom is here, for needing to meet urgently with my closest councilor is excellent cover.”

Dominic felt his shutters come down hard and fast. “An urgent treasury affair? Does anyone even pretend to believe that?”

“I didn’t say it was a treasury affair. And yes, it is urgent. I wouldn’t want you to miss the ship to France.”

Minuette stilled and so did Dominic, not daring to hope, as she said to William, “France? Do you mean—”

“Do you think I would send my most precious treasure to France without an appropriate guard? Of course Dom must go with you.”

Dominic swallowed, trying to gain control before speaking. “Nothing like leaving things to the last minute.”

“I like to keep my kingdom guessing. It keeps plotting to a minimum.” William stretched contentedly and looked around the hall. “This is a very pleasant house, Minuette. I approve.”

“Thank you. I must speak to Mistress Holly about dinner and an appropriate guest chamber. She will be a little overwrought and need soothing. Your men will mostly have to sleep in the outbuildings, I’m afraid. It won’t be elaborate, I hope you don’t mind.”

The king caught her hand and raised it to his lips. “I would be content to dine with you in a stable, sweetling.”

William could not remember ever being so happy as he was that night, eating simple food in a simple room with only Dominic and Minuette for company. He should remember this feeling, he decided—perhaps when he married Minuette they could make
this house their retreat. Of course it would need to be expanded and modernized. New kitchens and bedchambers for those who would need to attend him. Perhaps a tennis court or a maze or both. He would speak to someone about it and then he could present the plans to Minuette later. For Christmas?

He was so content, that it was a pity Dominic insisted on discussing court matters. Although Dominic was now, rankwise, the equal of Rochford, he had not lost his habit of corresponding with his former guardian, and thus he knew all about the competing sermons that had been preached in London the first Sunday of the French visit.

“I hear Latimer greatly offended the French with his opinions of marriage,” Dominic remarked. “Namely, that you should not marry in respect of alliance.”

“Oh, yes, Latimer was quite eloquent on that matter.” William tore off a piece of bread with restless hands. “Truly, it was as though he spoke straight to my own wishes: ‘for God’s love beware where you marry; choose your wife in a faithful stock.’ I cannot quarrel with that.” He grinned at Minuette, then went on, “Though I’ll admit his timing could have been better.”

“And Bonner spoke in favour of the French marriage.”

“Rather more than that,” William replied wryly. “As no doubt my uncle wrote you. Bonner was careful in his wording, but the bishop left little doubt that he hopes a Catholic wife will lead to Catholic children and thus England might be returned to the so-called true faith.”

“Why do you let Bishop Bonner continue preaching?” Minuette wanted to know. “He’s going to get himself into trouble.”

William shot a glance at Dominic and read there his knowledge of the trouble that had already come. “He has,” Dominic answered tersely. “Bonner was arrested the day after that sermon.”

Minuette looked to William. “What will happen to him?”

William caressed her cheek. “You need not worry about it, sweetling. Politics and religion are not only troublesome but boring. We will speak of other things.”

Dominic did not miss the mutinous expression that briefly crossed Minuette’s face, but she did not argue. For the duration of dinner they spoke of Minuette’s farms and of the visiting Frenchman who had passed out, dead drunk, in the middle of a state dinner and other trivia until she at last excused herself.

Left alone with Dominic, William stretched out his legs and contemplated his friend. After a long moment, right when expected, Dominic asked, “Why are you sending me to France?” He raised a hand when William opened his mouth. “And don’t tell me it’s solely for Minuette. I know what Bonner really preached. You have need of me here.”

It was true that Bishop Bonner had finally crossed the line from religious disagreement to state treason. His sermon had centered on Mary, still confined at Syon House (for her own protection, William thought of it, keeping her away from those who would use her), but Bonner had inflamed sentiment in favour of his half sister, and with the French marriage not precisely what Catholics hoped for …

“I could easily have Bonner tried for heresy for comparing Mary to the Virgin, but as he’s given us so many other ways to attack?” William shook his head. “He’ll end up executed, Dominic. Latimer intends no mercy. And why should he? Bonner was quick enough to torture and burn Anne Askew at the end of my father’s reign.”

It was true that Bonner had plenty of crimes to account for, but Dominic approached the issue practically. “Can you afford to antagonize the Catholics so openly? They might start imagining that they themselves are not safe in their beliefs.”

“As long as the French betrothal holds, the Catholics will bite their tongues. It means no hope of getting out of it this year, but I never really expected to marry Minuette for at least another two years. Also, I have Northumberland’s son in prison and the duke himself banished from court at the moment, so there’s some measure of balance.”

“But to see to the future balance—that is why I’m going to France.”

“I have an assignment for you while there. Besides Minuette, I mean. I need you to speak with the Spanish ambassador in Paris.” There wasn’t currently one in England, the last having been expelled during the Norfolk debacle.

He could have bet Dominic would figure it out. “Elizabeth,” his friend said simply.

“Elizabeth,” William agreed.

“A marriage to Prince Philip.”

“Right.”

“To appease the Catholics when you spurn the French and marry Minuette.”

“Can we quit stating the obvious and talk about how you need to approach this?”

“I know how to approach it,” Dominic said flatly. “I worked for Rochford, remember? Does he know? About Minuette, I mean.”

“My uncle knows I need to marry Elizabeth strategically. He is not opposed.”

Dominic stood. “May I?” he asked. William waved his permission, and Dominic began to pace. “If Elizabeth marries Philip, she’ll leave England to become the future Queen of Spain. You’ll be choosing a rather permanent alliance.”

“I’ll need it,” William remarked wryly.

“Why don’t you want Minuette to know?”

William shifted uncomfortably and reached for his wine goblet. “Because Elizabeth is not happy about it. I don’t need dramatics from Minuette as well.”

“Why not? You’ve never minded Minuette arguing with you before.”

“But now I need her support!” He jumped up, and once again it was familiar, William pacing in agitation while Dominic stood motionless and watched. “I need her, Dom. She is my center, my still calm in a stormy sea. She keeps
me
balanced and that is good for England. You are my right hand, Dom—but Minuette is my soul. I need you both. You can see that, can’t you?”

Dominic, after a weighted pause, answered tonelessly, “Yes, I see that. Of course I’ll do what you ask.”

“Thank you, my friend. And remember—the Spanish ambassador is secondary. Keeping Minuette safe is always your first mission.”

“I won’t forget.”

They talked together for another hour, politics and treasury and military—nothing pressing, just the easy conversation of two young men who inhabited the same world. When they separated for the night, William waited five minutes, then made his way to Minuette’s room. He knocked softly, hoping she was expecting him, and sure enough she opened the door to him herself. William grinned, sweeping her into a kiss and closing the door behind him with his foot.

Dominic did not sleep. He had heard William go to Minuette’s room, and he had counted every minute that the two were together. He had promised himself that if it were any longer than thirty minutes, he would get Carrie to intervene, but after twenty minutes he heard William’s footsteps return and his door close firmly. It had stayed that way the rest of the night.

So it was partly fatigue and partly jealousy and partly exasperation that sent him to William’s door at dawn. He knocked once and let himself in, seeing as William was not accustomed to being entirely alone and probably wouldn’t know how to open a door himself.

The king was still in bed, but awake enough to scowl. “What are you doing?”

“We’d best get an early start.” Even to himself he sounded clipped and angry.

Yawning, William sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He had been given the nicest chamber in the house, which had once been that of Minuette’s parents. Dominic thought it quite pleasant with its dark wood and embroidered linens and the diamond-paned windows that overlooked the rose garden.

It did not suit William at all—he looked like a Barbary horse kept incongruously in a farmer’s field. “Why do I think I’m about to get a lecture?”

“Do you deserve one?”

With a roll of his eyes, William replied, “Just get it over with, Dom. It’s about last night, isn’t it? You’re going to tell me I shouldn’t have been in her chambers.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Court gossip is one thing—but this is Minuette’s home. It’s not fair to put her in the position of either refusing you or losing her people’s respect.”

“Nothing happened. You know that, don’t you? She doesn’t have to refuse me, because I’m not asking anything wrong of her. Even you can’t see anything inappropriate in spending twenty minutes alone with the woman I love. It’s not nearly what I want, but it’s the most I can have, so yes, if I can steal a private moment in a private house to kiss her, I will.”

Dominic snatched up the nearest linen shirt and tossed it at William. “Get dressed,” he said.

“Don’t be so self-righteous,” William grumbled. “Just try to put yourself in my place—loving a woman you can’t openly touch. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman? Surely you cannot grudge me the smallest of comforts.”

Do you know how long it’s been for me?
Dominic wanted to shout. He hadn’t had a woman since Aimée in France more than eighteen months ago. And he wouldn’t, until he could have Minuette.

William pulled on his shirt and said thoughtfully, “You know, Dom, I wasn’t going to bring this up until after France, but I think it’s time you and I had a serious discussion about your own marriage.”

Feeling as though he might choke, Dominic said, “I don’t need you to marry me off.”

“But you will eventually need my permission. Not only are you a duke, but you also have royal blood through your grandmother. Honestly, can you not see how the women are angling for you these days? You’re going to have to choose soon. And as to that choice … I would like you to seriously consider Jane Grey.”

Dominic had no patience for this conversation. All he could think of was William and Minuette alone last night, kissing (And more than kissing? he wondered savagely. Where do Will’s hands wander when he’s alone with her?), and he had to force himself to respond.

“I don’t think Jane Grey likes me,” was all he could manage.

“Jane likes you fine. And her mother definitely likes your title. If they can’t have me, they’ll settle for you.”

“How flattering,” Dominic muttered.

“Look, I know that whoever this one beautiful woman is that John Dee claimed is in your future, it isn’t Jane Grey. But it would be an outstanding marriage for both of you. And she’s a
nice, sweet girl. She’ll make a pleasant home for you, give you lots of children, and not be unduly difficult when you find your beautiful woman.”

“Can we not have this conversation right now?” Dominic asked. Because if it went on much longer, he was going to have to think seriously about hitting his friend in order to shut him up.

William sighed. “Just think about it, all right? We’ll talk it over at the end of the summer.” He hesitated, then said, “I do hope … that is, if you are already in love, Dom … I don’t know if you are, but if so, clearly it’s with someone unsuitable or you would tell me about her. And if you are …”