The Queen's Lady (22 page)

Will groaned. ‘Are you thinking what I am thinking you are thinking?’

James gave a gruff laugh. ‘Lord, Will, you sound like my old philosophy tutor, full of obscure sentences. I don’t know. You tell me.’

‘I don’t want to mention the name unless I absolutely have to.’

James grinned. ‘You can’t deny he owes me. I did a good job for him in America; he should be feeling grateful. And we have to move Jane somewhere her family cannot reach her, else they’ll marry her off when our backs are turned. Indeed, that should be the first thing we do. Diego, would you go see if Master Ralegh is at court?’

With a kiss on the tip of her nose, Diego shifted Milly from his lap. ‘Aye, sir.’

‘Will, if you’ll stand guard here. I’m going in search of a marquess.’

Will stood up. ‘Jamie –’

‘Save it, Will. This is a reckoning that has to be paid, one way or another.’

21

James found Richard Paton closeted with his brothers in their lodgings close to the palace. Far from the finest rooms available, it proclaimed better than a glimpse into the account books that the Rievaulx estate was not doing well under the new marquess. If Paton was struggling to keep up appearances at court, then his fortunes were sunk very low, explaining but not excusing his desperation to do away with his stepmother to claw back some much needed income. As the surly manservant showed James upstairs, he wondered if the marquess would remember him from the altercation outside the abbey all those months ago; from the suspicious expression on Paton’s face when James entered, he guessed that he did.

‘Master Lacey, how may I help you?’ the marquess asked coldly, not bothering to rise for his visitor. ‘I am rather pressed for time this day as I have been called away on business.’

Fleeing the scene of his crime, thought James bitterly; Paton hoped that out of sight would be out of the Queen’s mind.

‘I would beg only a moment of your valuable time, sir.’ James almost lost his composure when he saw the Rievaulx ring on the man’s little finger. He linked his hands behind his back to rein in the urge to rip it off. ‘I would ask you to accompany me to the fencing hall.’

Paton snorted. ‘I have no time for play, sir.’

‘Not play.’ James let his smile glint with wolfish hunger. He wanted nothing more than to sink his dagger into the villain’s heart, if he could find it, but he had to keep this civilized. And legal. He would do Jane no good if he was in the Tower for murder.

Paton surveyed the younger man with contempt. ‘Then what is it? A challenge?’

James shrugged. ‘If you like, but a challenge would suggest I consider you worthy of one when in truth I think you worse than a dunghill rat.’

‘What!’

All three brothers leapt to their feet. Excellent.

‘You insult me, sirrah!’ spluttered the marquess.

‘No, I insult rats mentioning them in the same breath as you.’ James drew his sword to stop their advance on him. ‘What I propose is a wager. You attempted to poison my lady, and compounded that sin by stealing a ring from her when she was powerless to defend herself.’

The marquess unsheathed his blade. ‘There is no proof, only her word against mine. The courts will not believe a jade like her.’

‘Ah, and there’s your mistake, sir, for I am not a court of law. I intend to make you pay and care not how we go about it. I could kill you and be on the continent before the sun sets – it matters little to me as long as my lady has justice.’

‘Justice? Pah!’ spat Otho, the most hot-blooded of the brothers. He stabbed his dagger into the table top. ‘She deserves to be kicked into the gutter.’

Paton gestured him to be silent, evidently realizing that there was nothing more dangerous than a man who believes he has nothing to lose. ‘Your wager? What is it?’

‘We take this to the fencing hall and settle the dispute before witnesses. If I win, you give me the ring and your solemn vow that you will not come within sight of my lady, or harass her through your agents, for the rest of your miserable life, that’s if I see fit to grant you that.’

‘If you lose?’

‘Your choice of penalty, as befits a gentleman.’

The cunning brother, Lucres, laughed. ‘Tell him to cut his own throat – that should do it.’

The marquess drummed his fingers on the table, the ring glinting in the firelight. ‘You leave the country – if I let you live.’

James nodded. ‘So be it.’

It was a short step from the lodgings to the fencing hall. James made sure he kept behind the Paton brothers, not foolish enough to risk exposing his back to them. When they arrived, James found Diego waiting for him in the portico, accompanied by none other than Walter Ralegh.

‘Sir.’ James bowed, thinking quickly what this meant for his wager with the marquess. Would Ralegh feel obliged to step in to prevent it?

‘I am most gratified to see you back safe and sound from the voyage.’ Ralegh returned the bow. ‘You must tell me all about it, but it appears you have other business at the moment.’

‘Indeed.’ James cut a glance at the three Patons, wondering if they were about to appeal to Ralegh to avoid the combat. ‘The marquess and I had a philosophical argument and agreed to settle our differences in a test of our swordsmanship.’

Ralegh gave the Patons a contemptuous look. ‘A scholarly quarrel? I heard the bastard poisoned the Lady Jane.’ The marquess was quick to hide his consternation, but it was there, under the cool demeanour. ‘Have at him with my blessing.’ He gestured for them to proceed into the hall.

‘The Queen sent you?’ James asked when the Patons were out of earshot.

Ralegh gave a wicked smile. ‘Not as such. Your servant anticipated your argument would bring you here and Mistress Parry and I agreed that it would be in the lady’s best interests for me to attend. I volunteered to stand witness so that fair play is observed. But the Patons don’t have to know that, do they?’

James had to admit that Diego’s plan was better than his. With the Queen’s favourite on his side, implying Her Majesty’s support even if the reality was far less certain, then any repercussions from the encounter would be minimized.

‘Thank you, sir.’

Ralegh clapped him on the back. ‘Can’t say I like your brother, but it seems there’s one Lacey I’ve learnt to stomach. And the lady too has earned my respect – I am no friend to those who seek to harm her.’

‘Thank you.’ James would prefer Ralegh to have no feelings at all towards Jane.

Ralegh grinned as if party to his thoughts. ‘Besides, I wouldn’t want to lose the opportunity to hear your report if you fell unjustly to the marquess’s blade.’

James grimaced. ‘You’re all heart, sir.’

‘Aren’t I?’

The marquess did not look at all happy that Ralegh had elected to watch their bout but had to acquiesce. A number of other gentlemen already exercising their skills in the fencing hall, looked up on their entrance; Ralegh’s arrival anywhere was guaranteed to attract notice. The hostile atmosphere surrounding James and the Patons alerted all but the most thick-headed to the fact that something extraordinary was afoot and many of them drifted over to join the audience.

James limbered up in his corner, focusing on the task at hand, not on the excited chatter around him.

‘How far do you intend to take this?’ Diego asked, checking James’s rapier.

He gave Diego a wry smile. ‘Not to the death, unfortunately. I’ll settle for humiliation and the return of the ring. As long as the court knows he’s guilty, that is enough for now.’

Diego wiped the blade with a soft cloth. ‘And if he beats you?’

‘Not an outcome I will allow.’

‘I have just spoken to the fencing master. Paton’s good. Practises most days.’

‘Then I’ll have to be better.’

‘My lords, gentlemen.’ Ralegh held up his hand for silence. ‘Lord Rievaulx and Master Lacey have come here to settle their differences. I stand here for the Queen to ensure fair play is observed. The gentlemen have both pledged their word to abide by their agreed penalty if defeated. You fight until what? To first blood? Disarmament? Or points?’

‘Disarmament, by whatever means,’ James said quickly. He did not want this to turn into a polite competition for points; neither did he desire to end it before he’d bloodied Paton more than once; he was in the mood for something much more satisfying.

‘My lord, you agree?’

Paton scowled. ‘This is ridiculous – I haven’t time for this.’ Ralegh raised a mocking brow. ‘Yes, yes, I agree. I’ll give the young pup a scar to teach him respect for his superiors.’

The older men in the audience, unaware of the cause behind the contest, applauded, naturally lending their support to their peer against the youngster.

‘Positions then, gentlemen.’

James took his stance an arm’s length from the marquess, attempting to gauge what kind of fighter he was. Stocky in build, Paton probably relied on body strength rather than reach and speed, James’s own advantages. Fortunately, James had trained against Diego who, while much slighter, had a similar height to Paton. He had taught his master to expect the unexpected from the shorter opponent.

‘Begin!’

The fighters engaged, both testing the other’s skills in a series of opening moves. The rapiers were thin and deadly sharp. You could use them like a whip, bringing the flat down on your opponent’s wrist, forcing him to drop his blade; or, if you were going for blood, the most vulnerable area was the eyes, but that was considered poor sportsmanship and James wanted to make this a clean victory. That’s if he could get through Paton’s defences. Damn, the man was more skilled than he’d expected.

The audience applauded an elegant exchange of strike, block and parry that had the two men dancing around like courtiers doing the coranto.

‘Bravo!’ shouted one old lord.

So pleased to amuse you
, thought James sourly.

Forty-eight hours without sleep were catching up with James; fighting in bare feet for grip, his instep caught the edge of an uneven flagstone and he lost balance for a second. Paton thrust his blade through the gap so the tip caught James’s chin, then his shirt, snagging in the material but not reaching flesh. The audience clapped.

The combatants parted to return to their positions. Diego passed James a towel so he could wipe off the perspiration and blood.

‘I’ve seen you fight better.’

‘So have I. I should have slept before attempting this, but there’s my foolish pride for you.’

‘And he would have slipped away from London, escaped your retribution.’

‘True.’

‘Still, you had better raise your game.’

James threw back the towel. ‘As if I didn’t know that.’

Paton’s confidence had been boosted by James’s stumble. He went into the second bout with an arrogant swagger.

‘Chosen your country of exile, Lacey?’ he sneered. ‘How about Russia? That should be far enough.’

James did not rise to the bait and lose his temper. He merely raised his blade and narrowed his focus on to his opponent’s torso, watching for the telltale signs of which way Paton was going to move. The point against him had been the call to alarm that he needed; he did not intend to give away another one.

Blades clashed, steel scraping on steel like the carvers sharpening their knives for a feast. James dug deep and found his old rhythm, pressing from defence to attack, making the older man sweat to be in time to parry the blows. Some cuts came perilously close to finding home in flesh, but the marquess managed to deflect at the last second. The younger spectators cheered, seeing their champion return to form. When James considered he had let it drag out long enough for Paton to sweat, he swiped across the man’s collarbone, leaving a shallow cut on his upper chest. The marquess staggered back, clutching the injury.

James lowered his blade. ‘That was for my lady, for the distress you gave her. Hurts like hellfire, doesn’t it? Now you feel something of what she felt yester eve when you left her to die.’

The audience fell quiet, realizing that something more serious than a contest of skills was at stake.

‘You mention that whore to me?’ rasped the marquess. ‘She’s a blight on the family name.’

‘You are mistaken.’ James’s tone was clipped, still in control. It was going to be very difficult to resist the temptation to ram his blade through the bastard’s heart. ‘You are a disgrace to your father, Paton. He asked you to protect his wife and you break your word by trying to murder her.’

‘Enough of this nonsense,’ spat out the marquess. ‘Are we going to fight or are you going to stand there and preach?’

James flourished his blade. ‘Definitely fight.
En garde!
’

The next bout was vicious, the rules out of the window as Paton went for eyes, kidneys, any area that would disable the younger man. James’s blood was up – he took pleasure in unpicking each attack, making the marquess look clumsy and vastly out-skilled. Several times Ralegh looked on the point of intervening, but that was impossible while the battle heat was on both men. First blood had long since been drawn but neither contestant was ready to concede. Satisfied that the marquess’s shirt was stained red, blood dripping from a slice down his cheek, James had finally had enough of tormenting Paton. He let the marquess make one wild swipe, then came back swiftly to lay the flat of his blade in a stinging blow across the back of his opponent’s right hand. The marquess’s blade clattered to the ground as he nursed his paralysed fingers.

Stepping forward, James seized the injured hand and pulled off the ring before Paton had time to recover. ‘My lady’s, I believe.’

Ralegh swiftly took position between James and the other Paton brothers who looked ready to take up where their elder had left off. ‘I declare Master Lacey the victor. On the honour of both your houses, you must now abide by your agreements and leave this place with no further violence.’

‘I’ll get you for this, Lacey,’ growled the marquess.

‘I think you misheard, my lord,’ Ralegh said coldly. ‘If you pursue your revenge outside these walls, you will be dishonoured and no longer received at court. Indeed, I believe you have quite outstayed your welcome on this occasion and should return to your northern estates until the Queen summons you back.’

If Paton’s eyes had been thunderbolts, Ralegh would have been struck down where he stood, leaving nothing but a smoking pair of shoes. The marquess nodded curtly. ‘I wish him joy of his whore then.’

His move to leave was stopped by a blade poked in his chest. The sword’s owner was Ralegh.

‘Careful, my lord. You slander one of the Queen’s ladies without cause and that I cannot allow as it strikes too close to Her Majesty’s person. You may not depart this place until you withdraw your comment.’

The marquess looked close to apoplexy. Ralegh was as good as saying to insult Jane was a treasonous act. Many of his peers had been sent to Tower Hill for less. ‘I retract my words. I mean no offence to Her Majesty.’ He sounded like he was spitting pebbles.