The Boleyn Deceit (14 page)

“No.”

“I first saw her at court in 1528. She was attending Anne at the time, just twenty-one and the loveliest, merriest girl I’d ever seen. Like most men, I suppose, I appreciated her and thought she would be pleasant in … well, you can imagine the thoughts of a man dutifully but not lovingly married.”

“Is this supposed to make me think better of you?” Minuette asked caustically. The last thing she needed was to hear her stepfather wax poetic on her mother’s physical charms.

Howard smiled wickedly in a manner that reminded her of William at his most mischievous. “Don’t fear, our private encounters will remain locked in my memory. But the thing is, that’s not when I loved her.”

“Is there a point to this?” It seemed unfair to Minuette that her stepfather should be alive to talk about his love for her mother when she would never be able to hear her own father do the same.

“The point is, Minuette, that the day I fell in love with your mother was not the day I first fantasized about her but rather the day on which she cursed me soundly for being rude to a serving maid. The girl had spilled something on me—Wine? Fish sauce? I honestly can’t remember—but I told the chit off with more cruelty than was warranted and your mother overheard. I will never forget Marie’s fierceness in defending someone who was not in a position to defend herself. An instinct she most clearly bequeathed to you.”

With a pensive sigh, as though relinquishing a moment he wished he could hold onto, Howard turned away from the river. He addressed Minuette briskly. “And that is why I am helping you. Yes, Alyce de Clare’s mysterious death while engaged in spying on Queen Anne is definitely a fact. As is her pregnancy at the time of her death. As you have pointed out, Alyce did not get herself with child. I am working on that list of men you gave me,
but people’s memories are hard to pin down two years after the fact, especially when I cannot tell them why I am asking. That is not to say I do not have ideas, but I will be specific only when I have something more solid than supposition to offer.”

“Thank you.”

“May I ask you something?”

Warily, she nodded.

“Does anyone else know of your continuing queries into Alyce de Clare’s death?”

“Yes, of course. Princess Elizabeth has been most helpful to me.” No need to specify that her help had included securing something so outlandish as a star chart from John Dee.

“But not the king or his newest duke?”

“Do you mean Dominic? They are both of them far too busy with other matters. I will not bother them until I have something more solid than supposition to offer.”

“Which means that you are certain they would both tell you to drop it if they knew. Well, stepdaughter, if you will not listen to your king I doubt you will listen to me, but still I must offer what advice I can. Be careful. Whoever was behind Alyce de Clare’s spying has manipulated the downfall of one the most powerful men in England. My brother is dead and my nephew is only restored to his position by the grace of the king. Do you suppose such a man would rest easy if he knew you were still making inquiries into his plots?”

Tension like fingernails across her skin made Minuette shiver. But she met Howard’s eyes squarely. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Your mother all over again,” he murmured. He left her with a kiss on the forehead and a last piece of advice. “Keep an eye on those men of yours,” he warned. “Kings and dukes … who would have guessed the company Marie’s daughter would keep? Don’t let it go to your head.”

No fear of that, she thought wryly, at least not in the way you mean. These days she was mostly aware of the responsibility incumbent on her to keep William happy and Dominic content with waiting. Not to mention that she still served Elizabeth first, which at times she tended to overlook. Not so today; she went off with dutiful heart to spend the afternoon dealing with a backlog of royal correspondence that needed a personal reply from a lady of the princess’s household.

Only hours later, when Minuette had the righteous sense of duty done, did she snap her fingers to Fidelis, who had spent the afternoon snoring quietly against the wall of her study. Usually she returned the dog to the stables before she dressed for dinner, but tonight she decided to take him with her and have Carrie return him later. Since she couldn’t spend all the hours she liked with Dominic, sometimes Fidelis had to do in his stead.

She sent a passing girl to fetch Carrie and let herself into her chamber. As she pushed open the door, Fidelis gave off a sound she had never heard from him before—a deep, warning growl that washed over her skin and left it alive with nerves.

“What is it?” she asked the dog, who had somehow frozen as though in mid-motion. She instinctively stepped back, wondering who was in her room and what was wrong, and even as she wondered Fidelis launched through the door.

For all his enormity he sprang silently, an impressive flash of muscle and intent. There was something moving in the rushes on the floor beneath her bed, something that Fidelis snapped at with deadly intent but not quite deadly accuracy. Minuette had just time enough to register the sinuous shape of a snake at Fidelis’s feet before it sank its fangs into the wolfhound’s leg.

She screamed, but the dog needed only that moment of the snake’s bite to snap it in half with its powerful jaw. Her scream died into echoing silence as she stared at the mess of blood and
colour and wrong shapes and how had this happened and she would not faint, she would not—

Carrie caught at her arm. “It’s all right, milady, come away now.”

“No, Fidelis, is he all right, he was bit—” Her voice came out high and tremulous.

“He’ll be fine, you just come away and I’ll summon the guards. If your scream hasn’t already set them running.”

Minuette shuddered once, then shook her head. “No guards. Dominic first.”

“I’m not leaving you here. What if there are more vipers?”

“Then Fidelis would be going after them. Still, I’ll close the door and stay in the corridor until you return. Quickly now.”

Carrie returned with Dominic in less than ten minutes. He came with his man, Harrington, at his heels and the two of them entered the chamber first and searched thoroughly before letting the women inside and shutting the door.

Dominic’s expression was so tensely blank that she thought his face might crack. He looked her over from head to toe and demanded, “Are you sure you’re uninjured?”

“Quite sure. Fidelis knew—he must have smelled it, I don’t know, but he knew the moment I touched the door. Is he hurt?”

Harrington had been examining the hound’s leg. “He’s been bitten, but he’s a big dog. I wager he’ll do.”

“Make sure of it,” Dominic ordered. “Take him to the stables and tell them he was bit by an adder, but don’t tell them where. Tell them he was chasing rabbits or something.”

“Right.”

Minuette knelt impulsively before the wolfhound and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered into his soft, warm coat. Only now was she beginning to tremble. The
big dog met her eyes with understanding, and she blinked back tears as he followed Harrington out, limping.

After that one moment of impersonal examination, Dominic hadn’t looked at her again. “No more sleeping here. Get new rooms. And from now on Fidelis sleeps with you.”

“Fidelis is enormous, I’m lucky to get away with having him indoors ever. No one will want him underfoot all the time—”

“William isn’t no one, and he’ll order it,” Dominic interrupted brusquely. Carrie stood in the doorway, watching them both with an attention that perhaps accounted for his remoteness. “And if William doesn’t, I will. This was no accident or mere prank, Minuette. Whoever did this meant you real harm.”

She shivered, for the first time letting it settle on her. If she hadn’t brought Fidelis with her, if she had returned him to the stables as she usually did before changing … She wondered what an adder bite felt like. It only killed uncommonly, but then how common was it to find one indoors?

Carrie, prepared as always, had brought a linen bag back with her, and she handed it to Dominic, who scooped up the remains of the dead reptile along with the bloody rushes. When he rose, he gazed at her with an intensity not at all remote, and the weight of his eyes was unbearable, confirming how serious he thought this, and she wanted him to wrap her in his arms and keep her safe and tell her everything would be all right.

But of course he didn’t. Turning away—as he always seemed to be doing these days—he said, “I’ll speak to Elizabeth about new rooms for you.”

F
OR THE FIRST
time in the long years of their friendship, Dominic was the one shouting at William instead of the other way round. “If you keep Minuette at court solely because you would miss her, then your selfishness will get her killed!”

The door to William’s private oratory opened as he yelled, and Elizabeth slid in quietly. “I could hear you from the corridor,” she remarked impassively. “And don’t exaggerate, Dominic. Minuette is unharmed.”

“Because she had the wolfhound with her! If she hadn’t—”

Dominic stopped because he couldn’t continue without giving himself away completely. Since last night, he had been balanced on a knife’s edge of fury and terror, and if he lost that balance the whole world would know how he felt about Minuette. He’d never done anything harder than leaving her last night when all he’d wanted was to sweep her away into the safety of his own rooms where he could protect her at every moment. Instead he’d been sharp and cold with her; now he was angry and unreasonable with William. Because if anything happened to Minuette …

William had let him rant without comment, but Elizabeth was
willing to argue. “If Will sends her away again before the French delegation arrives, the gossipmongers will let loose. People will say he’s sending his mistress away to keep her from French eyes. Minuette’s reputation will suffer.”

“To hell with her reputation,” Dominic spat fiercely. “I won’t let her come to harm because of what gossips will say.” He wished he could pace like William usually did, but the oratory was cramped with the three of them inside. Set aside for William’s personal prayers, the space was little more than an alcove with a door, and the lectern with the English Bible filled at least half of it.

“And you think William will let her come to harm? Of course she’ll be guarded more thoroughly and—”

“Someone put an
adder
in her room!”

“Enough.” Though he didn’t raise his voice, William’s tone was pure monarch—expecting and receiving instant obedience.

“In this,” William continued flatly, “as in so many other things, Dominic is right. I will not risk Minuette’s safety. But Elizabeth, you are also right. It will not do to give anyone a weapon to use against her in future. If I send her away from court while my sister remains, then it will be seen as a very personal move.”

“What do you propose?” Dominic spoke calmly, now that he appeared to have gained his point.

William nodded to his sister. “The French arrive on May first. I need you here to greet them, but you need not remain the duration of their visit. If you withdraw to Hatfield after they arrive, you can take Minuette with you and there will be little talk of her absence.”

“I thought you needed me to charm the French.”

“I can contrive another opportunity that will do as well. Besides, the Protestants will claim your withdrawal as a sign of
support for their opposition to the French marriage, so it’s useful on more than one front.”

Dominic broke in. “And until then? How do we keep Minuette safe for another ten days?”

“By all means,” William said, “set your own man to guarding her. He’s not one of mine, so people will pay less attention.”

“Maybe we want people paying attention—or one person, at least.” For Dominic didn’t give a damn about the French, or diplomatic tangles. He wanted only two things: to keep Minuette safe and to find out who had set a poisonous snake loose in her room. He didn’t think he would have to look far to find the culprit. “Why is Eleanor still at court?”

For the first time today, he could feel the slow burn of William’s irritation. “Lady Rochford made room for her amongst her ladies. There seemed no harm in it for a few days.”

“And where might Eleanor have been yesterday afternoon and evening?”

“Are you asking if
I
am her alibi? You know I am not, since we were in meetings together and then I played tennis with the Earl of Oxford.”

Because he was angry, Dominic said what he might have only thought at another time. “It would simplify matters if Eleanor had been in your bed during the relevant period.”

“Dominic!” Elizabeth remonstrated.

Her brother ignored her. “I’m sorry to complicate matters with my fidelity. Really, Dom, I know your opinion of me never runs very high, but do you honestly think I would revert to Eleanor the moment she returned simply because she is available? Minuette means far too much to me. How many times do I need to prove it?”

Over and over and over again and it will never matter because you cannot love her as I do … Stop it,
Dominic commanded himself. He had to get hold of his control and his temper before everything fell apart. And still William faced him, hurt because his friend did not trust him.