The Boleyn Deceit (17 page)

The shadows shifted, black to gray, as the door opened and a cloaked figure slipped through. The concealing cloak did not quite cover the silver glimmer of her gown, and the jewels round her neck and in her hair were like little sparks of moonlight. Or stars, caught fast to the woman who was like a star herself …

Dominic reached for her hand as she neared and pulled her wordlessly forward, deeper into the concealment of an orchard just beginning to bud. Only when the walls and windows of Hampton Court were out of sight did he stop.

She was in his arms at once, and he felt his shoulders relax. This feeling of relief surprised him every time; he never realized how tense he was until they were entirely alone and he could let it go.

“I’ve missed you, my lord duke,” she murmured.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It was a such wonderful thing for William to do.” So Minuette had been saying ever since his investiture.

“William does many wonderful things.” Could she hear the knife-edge of jealousy in his voice?

Whether she could or not, she did precisely the right thing, bringing her mouth up to his in an unhesitating movement. He let his mind empty of everything, aware only of the texture and taste of her lips and, briefly, her tongue. He spent so much of his time not letting himself think about touching her that it took an effort of will to drop that restraint and allow his body to guide him.

Much too soon, she stepped out of the kiss. “William does nothing so wonderful as that,” she said lightly, though Dominic could hear the shiver beneath her words.

They sat at the base of a tree, Dominic’s back against the trunk and Minuette carefully arranging her skirts and cloak before
leaning against his side. He put his arm around her, and her head came to rest on his shoulder.

As pleasant as it was to sit in silence and peace, this time would not last and Dominic had things to say. “Elizabeth leaves court the day after tomorrow.”

“She does.”

“I will miss you.” Which was always the truth, no matter the relief of knowing she would be somewhere safer.

And then Minuette said the unexpected. “I’m not going with her. I have told William no.”

Dominic shifted so he could look at her face. In the moonlit shadows filtering through the trees, she appeared absolutely serious. With a steady voice that cost him an effort, he replied, “You cannot stay at court, Minuette.” Why did she even want to? Because she couldn’t bear to be parted from him? Or was it William who had persuaded her to stay?

Again, uncannily, she spoke straight to his worst instincts. “This isn’t about William! Honestly, Dominic, can you not see that part of him will be glad to have me gone? You miss the strain in him. He is warm-blooded. And though he has no wish to offer insult to my face, I imagine he will welcome the opportunity to seek relief.”

Dominic gave a strangled laugh at Minuette’s cool assessment of the nature of William’s strain—and its remedy. “If you aren’t going with Elizabeth, then where?”

He heard the laughter beneath her words. “The new Duke of Exeter has not been paying attention to the right kinds of gossip. You should be listening to the women, Dominic, then you would guess what is coming.”

He let himself answer in kind. “Be as superior as you like, my love, but at least tell me straight out what I have missed.”

“On the last day of the French delegation’s visit, it will be publicly announced that Lady Rochford is going to return the favour. She will go to Paris, bringing with her several young ladies who will remain to serve in Elisabeth de France’s household until she grows up enough to marry William. He has asked me to go as well.”

“Not to remain?” Elisabeth de France was not even ten years old yet, surely William didn’t mean to send Minuette away for so long … not that William meant to marry Elisabeth in any case. He was finding it hard to follow all the twisted pathways of secrets.

“Of course I won’t stay for more than a few weeks,” she replied. “I’ll return when Lady Rochford does. But that’s not the important part.”

Minuette going overseas, an ocean between them—how could that not be the important part? Dominic’s heart couldn’t decide whether to stutter or stop all together.

“I have asked William if, rather than going to Hatfield with Elizabeth, I might go to Wynfield until it is time to leave for France. I told him I wished a little time to myself away from the pressures of publicity and travel. He has given me permission.”

She bit her lip, and when she spoke again her voice was husky. “And if I am at Wynfield …”

She did not finish. She did not need to. Dominic felt his blood quicken at the thought of Minuette away from court, away from prying eyes and sharp tongues, away from Elizabeth and, especially, William. He could visit Wynfield. Indeed, William might even ask it of him, as he had asked him numerous times since November to dance with Minuette or sit with her at pageants or otherwise keep her occupied when the king was busy.

She ran her fingers along the line of his jaw, making his heart
stutter in quite another manner. He could see only the pale shimmer of her face as she whispered, “You will come to Wynfield, won’t you?”

He answered her with his lips and his hands. She moved against him, and the tree trunk dug into his back and the ground was hard but he didn’t care, he would have stayed there all night if he could, with the warmth of her lips and the softness of her throat and the elusive curves of her figure beneath the stiff bodice.

Reluctantly they parted at last and Dominic pressed his lips to her hair, waiting for his breathing—and hers—to even. Then he led her back to the orchard’s edge, where she would slip away first. She lifted her head, and for one moment Dominic thought she would kiss him once more. He should have known better, for the walls of Hampton Court rose before them and they were ever careful to minimize their betrayal.

Only after she vanished through the outer door that would lead her through the back lanes of the kitchens did Dominic let his mind wander to the possibilities of Wynfield and the pleasures of being alone with Minuette in a house not owned by William.

On her last day at court before retreating to Hatfield, Elizabeth went hawking with William and the French, after which, when she and William were alone, growing irritation with her brother spilled out into a blazing row.

The catalyst was William’s casual announcement to the French and various English court members that Prince Erik of Sweden would be sending his brother to pay court to Elizabeth on his behalf. But the seeds of the argument had been planted long before—from the moment months ago when William had told
her he meant to marry Minuette. If he married for love, then her chance of doing so vanished. Though she accepted that, she was human enough to fiercely resent it.

“I don’t want him here,” she told William flatly once they were behind closed doors. “You can just send straight back to Erik and tell him his brother is not welcome in England.”

“No, I can’t. It’s a reasonable request, and politically wise at this point. Erik expects I would like to balance the effects of my expected French marriage with a staunchly Protestant husband for you.”

“And what does he gain?”

“You. This isn’t political for Erik. The man is genuinely enamoured of you.”

“The man has never met me.”

“Which is why he’s enamoured of you.” His tone was somewhere between irritation and amusement.

Elizabeth struggled to keep her voice level. “I won’t do it. I won’t meet with an envoy from a prince whose suit you have no intention of granting.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you were truly going to marry Elisabeth de France, then Erik might indeed be a serious prospect for me. But you are going to marry Minuette. And when you do, all hell will break loose with the Catholics. That’s where I come in.”

“Go on.”

He must have known she would figure it out; she felt a burst of resentment that he was humouring her. “When you break the French treaty, you’ll need Spain on your side. What better way to achieve that than to marry me off to Philip?”

Heir to the Spanish throne and a large part of the Netherlands, nephew of the Holy Roman Emperor—yes, Philip Hapsburg
would be a far more powerful alliance than the passive Swedes. Elizabeth waited for her brother to refute it.

He did not refute, or confirm. “Allowing Erik to send an envoy can do no harm. We’ll entertain him, show him the best of the English court, and send him home with a carefully equivocal response. It will serve its purpose.”

“That purpose being to distract attention from your own behavior?”

William was beginning to lose his temper—she could see it in his darkening cheeks and hear it in his too-precise enunciation. “I will inform Prince Erik we will gladly receive his brother at our court this autumn. And you will look to your own behavior while he is here.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’d best keep away from Robert Dudley.”

She longed to scream at him, or slam her way out of the room, or even throw something. But an idea struck her at the very moment she opened her mouth. Instead of an angry retort, she found herself saying, “I’ll agree to behave precisely as you want on one condition.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t do conditions.”

“You do with me.”

“What is it?”

“I want to go to France with Lady Rochford.”

He gave a bark of astonished laughter. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“You are my heir. I cannot risk sending you out of England as long as that is true.”

“You are king and you left England last year. To fight a war, as I recall. I will be doing nothing so risky.”

He shook his head, but she knew she was every bit as stubborn
as her brother. “Let me do this, Will. I am a much better representative than our aunt anyway. And if you want to impress the French with your devotion to their princess, then who better to send than your own dear sister?”

Then she delivered the final blow. “Besides, you are sending Minuette. Won’t you feel better having me there to protect her from any amorous French gentlemen?”

He narrowed his eyes. “If I agree, you will be gracious to Prince Erik’s representatives?”

She smiled sweetly. “As gracious as ever a woman was.”

In her head, she heard an echo of a voice from a wintry night, John Dee saying,
Before another year passes, you will be your brother’s voice in a foreign land.

As if he were reading her mind, William said, “Do you suppose this was fated to happen? Or are you merely taking advantage of John Dee’s words?”

“Does it matter?” she answered lightly.

He shook his head, ruefully this time, and grinned down at her. “I should know better than to fight with you, Sister. I never win.”