The Boleyn Deceit (40 page)

And on that very night, Alyce had been found at the bottom of a staircase with a broken neck. Accident—or deadly intent?

Minuette said decisively, “I’m sure it was an accident. I suspect Alyce confronted him, no doubt they argued. But I do not believe Robert would intentionally kill a woman.”

Neither did Elizabeth believe it, but she was beginning to see that she was not the best judge of anything where Robert Dudley was concerned.

What had John Dee warned her?
Even the clearest eyes cannot see straight into the sun.
Robert had been her sun, and she had been blind. Never again.

They reached the branching of the road where a third of the guards would continue with Minuette to her home near Stratford-upon-Avon. Elizabeth and the remaining guards would take the road to Oxford.

Minuette reined up next to Elizabeth. She looked smaller than usual, as though the captivity had diminished her. For one moment, Elizabeth felt that she was looking at a stranger and her friend’s remoteness smote her conscience.

“Are you sure you want to go to Wynfield?” Elizabeth asked. “Perhaps it is not ideal for you to be alone just now.”

“It will be good for me.” Minutte smiled, and the familiar vivacity of it eased Elizabeth’s heart. “There are things I must put in order at home. I won’t stay away long.”

“William won’t let you.” Elizabeth laughed softly.

Minuette’s smile was sad. “Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

It sounded like more of a farewell than it should have.

William and Dominic were on the road two days later. It was the last day of September and the skies hung low with sullen clouds. Northumberland and his sons were somewhere ahead of them on the road to London, under the personal guard of the Earl of Sussex. Dominic was glad to be riding freely with William rather than guarding prisoners.

He was unsure how to broach the subject of Minuette and Wynfield Mote. They passed the branching road to her home the first day, but Dominic still said nothing, afraid that if he proposed going immediately, William would seize the same opportunity. And figuring out how to tell William the truth didn’t mean throwing it in his face at the first opportunity. Minuette had always been right that it would need to be tactfully and carefully done. So Dominic rode on to Oxford with the king, reaching the university town just before dusk on a sullenly wet evening that gave full promise of a bitter winter to come.

They were quartered at King’s College, in plain but adequate rooms that quickly filled up with tapestries and furniture for the king’s overnight stay. William insisted on visiting the fellows and students at dinner, moving amongst them in a way that almost made Dominic jealous. What would it be like to have the gift of easy conversation? he wondered. And was it a gift, or just very good training for a king who had to be popular with his people?

The first sign they had of trouble was the exhausted horse, lathered in sweat, quivering in the courtyard of the college as
they returned to their quarters. Someone had ridden here at great speed.

Dominic followed William up the stairs two at a time. They met Harrington on his way down to find them. He told them what little he knew while leading them to the solarium where the rider waited. “It’s one of Norfolk’s men, he’d ridden to London and Rochford sent him on here. I gather there’s been violence along the border, but he didn’t say much. He was ordered to report directly to you.”

The rider was young and possessed of northern sturdiness, though his face was tinged with gray. He looked as though he hadn’t slept for days, a fact he soon confirmed. “Lord Norfolk ordered speed. I’ve ridden straight through from London and Carlisle before that.”

“Tell me,” William ordered.

“It was bloody,” the young man said wretchedly, looking younger by the minute. “We’d heard of raids, so his lordship sent us across the border, as a warning, like. We weren’t expecting trouble, just a band of reivers, but they were waiting for us. A full army. They swept through us like grain. And they didn’t take hostages, either, just killed everyone they could reach. We lost three hundred men before we could get back to Carlisle. They didn’t follow us, thank God, or we’d all have been lost.”

William shared a swift look with Dominic and it seemed they had the same thought.
Bloody Scots—always meddling at the worst possible moment.
“What’s Norfolk doing?” the king asked.

“He’s mustering to Carlisle, with scouts posted along a twenty-mile stretch of the border. They hadn’t crossed it when I left.” The rider reached inside his doublet and pulled out a creased and sweat-stained letter. “He ordered me to put this into your hands alone.”

William broke the seal and read, then raised his head. He
studied the young man before him. “Do you know what this says?”

“No, Your Majesty. But I can guess.”

“How?”

“Because I was there, and Lord Norfolk wasn’t. I’m the one who told him about the banners that rode with the army.”

“What banners?” Dominic asked.

“A sable leopard and battle-axe on a field of scarlet,” William answered neutrally. “Renaud LeClerc’s banner. It was LeClerc who led the Scots.”

Dominic stilled and in that moment felt something close to a premonition. This was not going to end well. “I don’t believe that.”

“Of course you do. You’ve said it yourself, how many times? LeClerc is the best commander Henri has. The French king’s put him where he wants him—on my border. Whether it’s because Henri knows what I intend, or merely because he’s hoping to provoke me, it doesn’t matter.”

“Your Majesty.” Dominic looked at Norfolk’s messenger, young and exhausted and clearly not meant to overhear this politically charged conversation. With a wave of his hand, William dismissed the messenger and Dominic told Harrington to find the young man a bed.

When he and William were alone, Dominic said bluntly, “What will you do?”

“Henri seems to want war, or maybe he just wants to see how far he can push me. I thought I had taught him that lesson already. It seems he didn’t learn it.”

“Norfolk will need additional men if he’s going to cross the border to fight.”

“Is that what you would do—cross the border?”

“It’s what Henri expects. He wouldn’t put Renaud there if he
didn’t think he’d be needed for a series of full-scale battles. But you beat Henri last time by doing what he did not expect.”

“Why not just bring it to open war now? I’ve got five thousand men nearby who can march at speed,” William argued. “And if France is seen to break the treaty, then I’m no longer locked into marrying Henri’s daughter. Outrage against foreign Catholics will run so high that I need not delay marrying Minuette.”

“I think you overestimate the backlash. France is Catholic, but the Scots themselves are Protestant. I don’t think you benefit one way or the other at this point, for it’s not only the religious issue at stake. There will be many who will protest your marriage to Minuette on purely political grounds. And border wars are bloody affairs. It’s the North that will pay, and it’s the North that is most precariously held. Push them into war, and you may regret it. Also, it will soon be winter and any violence will have to be suspended.”

“So talk to me about the unexpected.”

“Negotiate,” Dominic said tersely. “Keep this from blowing out of control. It saves crops and homes, not to mention lives, and it earns you a reputation as a peacemaker. It will tie Henri’s hands. He doesn’t want to be the warmonger to your more balanced and humane approach. And once you’ve restrained yourself so far in the face of blatant provocation, Henri will be caught completely off guard when the time comes for you to throw his treaty and his daughter back in his face.”

That wasn’t exactly pushing William into the French marriage, but Dominic did not want war. Even less did he want William using this as an excuse to marry Minuette immediately.
Please agree,
he begged silently.

William frowned, and picked up the map showing the Scots border in detail. His expression was inscrutable: he might be
considering the difficulty of a late autumn battle, or he might be gauging where to send his soldiers pouring across. Dominic didn’t move, afraid to tip the balance the wrong way.

Replacing the map on the table, William nodded. “Good. I’ll send a rider to Norfolk, ordering him to keep his muster in Carlisle and not to engage unless the Scots cross the border first. And I’ll tell him to expect you.”

“Me?”

“Who better to negotiate than Renaud LeClerc’s English friend? You are the one thing the Frenchman and I have in common.”

“Fair enough. I’m sure Renaud and I can come to an accommodation.”

Something of his relief must have showed, because William added, “I’ve missed you, Dom. It’s my fault, I know, I’ve been so busy trying to know and do everything myself that I’ve not used you as I should. There is no one else who would have counseled me this wisely.” Clapping him on the shoulder, he continued, “Every king should have at least one advisor who is honest rather than prudent. I’m glad you’re mine.”

The first warning Minuette had was Carrie’s announcement that there was a gentleman below to see her. She had been working on a tapestry in the upper-floor solarium, and in her absorption had not even heard the sound of hooves. She asked Carrie who it was, but her maid retreated as if she had not heard the question. Fidelis raised his head and looked at her with a knowledgeable gaze. She had kept him at her side since her return. His warmth and size were comforting against the memories of her brief imprisonment.

“Do you think it’s him?” she asked. The wolfhound answered by quirking an ear.

Dominic was in the hall, standing with his back to her. She
contented herself for a moment drinking in the way he stood and the way his dark hair curled against the neckline of his doublet. She realized she was trembling with the urge to run her fingers through his hair.

She must have made some sound, or perhaps Dominic sensed her, for he turned suddenly. “Might I trouble you for a bed for the night?”

Their eyes caught and his cheeks darkened. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean. Of course. I didn’t think you would be able to come so soon.”

“I can’t stay. I’m headed north for some business along the border.”

“You’ll be here only one night?” She tried not to sound disappointed.

“I must be away at dawn. Truthfully, I should have pressed farther than Wynfield today.”

Indeed, the afternoon light was holding and he could have ridden some ways more. Grateful that he hadn’t, Minuette moved forward and took his hand in hers.

Despite his relatively early arrival, the evening wasn’t nearly long enough for Minuette. They spent every minute together. In the softening twilight they walked to the nearest cottages and Minuette introduced him to several families, including the widow woman and her children who were embarrassingly effusive in their thanks for the help provided bringing in their harvest. They toured the rose garden, looking the worse for autumn wear, and she sought Dominic’s opinion on remodeling the old-fashioned solar.

Mistress Holly provided a bountiful meal of roast partridge, rabbit pie, dried fish with mustard, leeks and parsnips, warm wholemeal bread, and a pastry shaped like a Tudor rose. She and Dominic ate all they could and still sent back more than
three-quarters of the food; the servants would dine just as well as they had.

They sat in the hall after the meal, sipping spiced wine and saying little. Minuette kept expecting Dominic to bring up the issue of William, but he seemed content merely to sit with her. At last, when the shadows of night had long closed in, she said tentatively, “If you’re away at dawn, we should retire now.”

As Dominic had earlier, she blushed when she realized how that last phrase could be taken. Her blush deepened when he did not brush aside her awkward words. Rather, he leaned across the chessboard where her black queen stood triumphant and looked at her intently. His eyes seemed to trace every inch of her face and throat, and she felt his gaze as though it were fingertips running over her skin.

She had forgotten how it felt—not that she was unfamiliar with that sort of look. It was the only way William looked at her anymore, but he did not rouse in her this feeling of breathlessness, this sensitivity of her body heightening until she thought she’d burst into flame if Dominic were to touch her.

He leaned back in his chair, somehow releasing her from his gaze without taking his eyes off her. “I can ride tired.”

Composing herself to stillness, Minuette suggested, “Another game, then?”

“I always lose.” He smiled gently. “I thought you wanted to talk. About telling William.”

“Let’s talk.”

He shook his head. “I want to hear you.”

Only fair—she’d been the one dragging her feet for months. Still, she had made her decision at Dudley Castle. “I mean to ask William to remain at Wynfield until Christmas. No doubt he will wish me to return to court for that.”

“No doubt.”

“When I return to court, I will speak to Elizabeth.”

Dominic nodded thoughtfully. “Break it to her first?”

“Yes.”

“And what precisely will you tell her—simply that you have no intention of marrying William? Or do you mean to go so far as to tell her why?”

“I will tell her everything.”

“So that she can tell William in your stead?”

Why was he interrogating her? “I thought this was what you wanted, Dominic. No more secrets, no more lies. No more twisting of our loyalties. But that doesn’t mean we must be cruel. I thought you loved William, too. Do you want me to humiliate him?”

He sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead. It was one of those rare moments when he looked as though he didn’t have all the answers. “I just want to make sure this is what you want, that you’re not doing it simply to appease me.”

She choked out a laugh. “To appease you?” All this time, and he still did not know what she wanted. Perhaps she would have to show him.

She moved from her chair to Dominic’s lap. Twining her arms around his neck, she brushed his cheek with her lips. “This is what I want,” she said, then kissed his other cheek before letting her tongue flicker lightly across his lips. She felt rather than heard him groan softly, and she whispered, “You are what I want, Dominic. Must I prove it? We are alone enough here at Wynfield. I will prove it this very night if you wish. It doesn’t have to be on a table.”