Lord of Loyalty (Trysts and Treachery Book 2)

by Elizabeth Keysian

  Norris took her arm, steering her further away from the throng of courtiers. “It must be a hardship to come up from the countryside with no friend or relation to support you. I gather Mistress Aspinall was all you had in the way of kin?”

  “Indeed, she was. Although I have to say it, I never much cared for her.”

  “Not everyone is easy to like. Why, I am certain half the people at court take the others in great dislike. This is not an easy place to survive, given the politicking that goes on here. But I shall be glad to render my services to you and to advise you, should you need a friend.”

  “I’m most grateful.” She paused. Kit’s scowl had, if anything, intensified. He certainly didn’t look like a friend who could offer her a sympathetic ear. She bent her head closer to Norris. “I’m unsettled in my soul. No doubt, it is correct to preserve a divinely-appointed sovereign, even at the cost of one’s own family. But my deeds still sit hard with me.”

  Norris’ eyes glittered as he nodded. “We must ask ourselves—is there justification in defying an evil monarch? Such as the second Richard, or indeed the third. There are two sides to every story. I can understand the conflict you suffer.”

  Suddenly, Kit was at Alys’ elbow, seizing it in a painful grip, thrusting his head forward at Norris like an angry snake. “Treasonous talk, sir. How dare you pour such venom into a lady’s ear?” His voice was soft but full of menace.

  Norris appeared unmoved. “Your pardon. But I had understood our conversation to be private. Therefore, it should not be of any concern to you.”

  Alys felt the tremble of Kit’s fury. “Mistress Barchard is under my particular protection. She has been through a trying time, so I beg you, do not trifle with her feelings or confuse her mind.”

  She wriggled in Kit’s grasp and discovered she wouldn’t be able to free herself without causing a scene. And that, on her first evening at court, was something she had no desire to do.

  “If the lady is under your protection, why has she attempted to avoid and ignore you all evening? I cannot help but notice such things.”

  “You are prey to your own imaginings, sir.” Kit turned swiftly on his heel, bearing Alys with him, and before she could protest, they were both out of the room. Using all her weight, she pulled them to a halt.

  “How dare—”

  “Ah, Sir Christopher. You have tired of the evening already?”

  Jane Haslitt had appeared and was gazing at Kit with a polite but inquiring smile. “I am not surprised if Mistress Barchard has had enough—a long journey, meeting the queen, having so many gentlemen vie for her attention. Come now, Alys, I’ll accompany you to your chamber. And we’ll root out your maid—you’ll need some assistance with that gown.”

  “Excuse me, Mistress Haslitt, but I would have a private interview with Mistress Barchard.”

  “At this hour, sir? That is quite out of the question.”

  Alys shook herself free of Kit’s hands and shot a pleading look at Jane. “Pray tell my Lord Ludlow I have no wish to speak with him at all.”

  “There now, the lady denies you.” Jane turned Alys around and escorted her down the passageway.

  A rescue, well executed. Yet every moment, she could feel Kit’s eyes boring into her back. He felt obliged to interfere in her new life, curse him. Well, she was going to make new friends, and quickly, and soon she would no longer want—or feel the need of—his protection. Or his good opinion.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Kit’s jaw clenched as he watched the women disappear along the passageway. His ardent desire to follow was suppressed only by the strength of his pride. Shame on Alys for taking refuge behind Jane Haslitt. Why had she not the courage to face him personally?

  He’d offered her marriage, an offer he’d not made lightly. Yet she’d told him to wait, said he had no concern for her feelings. How was he to understand if she wasn’t prepared to discuss those feelings with him? And was she now deliberately flaunting Norris in his face in an effort to make him jealous?

  A soft voice by his elbow broke his reverie. “I see your little bird has flown.”

  Kit bowed deeply. “Your Grace! Forgive me—I was unaware of your presence.”

  “Fiddle!” The queen took his arm and steered him along the passageway down which Alys had recently made her escape. “We do not stand on ceremony, you and I. I am satisfied you have done your penance and will therefore forget your earlier disgrace—though I doubt the Laceys will be so forgiving. Yet I sense your punishment continues still, at the hands of Alys Barchard. Mayhap you are about to be hoisted by your own petard.”

  “Majesty, I am not certain I understand.”

  “You understand me very well. You are in love with that young lady, and she will not have you. Now you will suffer the pangs of unrequited love, and understand what drove Anne Lacey to the edge of despair.”

  “At risk of contradicting you, Your Majesty—”

  “You dare to contradict me?” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Nay, I am not angered with you, but I am intrigued. Dare on, good sir.”

  “My queen, I had reason to believe Alys… Mistress Barchard… had feelings which matched my own. I cannot understand what has come between us.”

  “Your pride, and her inexperience, no doubt. The charms of pretty gentlemen like you, when exercised upon the innocent heart, make a heady brew. I suspect Mistress Barchard’s heart does battle with her head—but she will come about in time. You must not push so hard, or she will fly from you and into the arms of another. You know of whom I speak.”

  She paused in her step, then turned on her heel, bearing Kit back towards the great hall. “You will come to my private parlor, Master Ludlow, and converse with me. I had never thought to see you fall so heavily, and am fascinated to learn how this came about.”

  “Have mercy, my queen. I thought you wished for no window into men’s souls?”

  “Ah. Clever Kit. I should have you severely punished for daring to throw my own words back at me. Mayhap the rack… nay, for you are too tall already. I must think of some other punishment. There, the dimples return to your cheeks. Am I not a good monarch, that can make even her gloomiest subjects cheerful?”

  “Indeed, Your Majesty.” They had almost reached the other end of Hatfield’s ancient banqueting hall, and the revelers were beginning to take their positions to bid their sovereign goodnight.

  Kit carefully negotiated her starched collar so he could whisper into her ear. “You cannot wish me to come any farther. You know what the court will believe if I accompany you to your chamber.”

  Elizabeth smiled as she waved her hand gracefully towards her courtiers and guests. “Perhaps it amuses me to have them think so.”

  His face must have been a picture, for when she turned to look up at him, she burst into spasms of most unroyal mirth. “Get thee gone, Ludlow. I do but jest with you. But on the morrow, I will hear the history of your dealings with Mistress Barchard. And if you think to leave out a single thing, you will be sent straight to the Tower and join the traitors you put there.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  After a miserable night’s sleep, Kit breakfasted early, ready to tackle the day and do what he could to learn Alys’ mind. It was a fine summer morning, and those already up decided to spend it practicing at the butts. He’d no idea if Alys could shoot, but she ought to learn if she wanted to find favor—archery was a sport close to the queen’s heart, especially since her former tutor, Roger Ascham, had written a book upon the subject.

  He collected one of his own bows and selected a lighter one to lend to her, but when he arrived on the sward, he saw she was already equipped and assisted. Norris was standing over her, and no sooner had she hefted her bow than he reached forward to raise her elbow.

  The cur. He could already tell from her stance she was no beginner. Trust Norris to interfere where he was neither needed nor welcome. Kit walked nonchalantly closer, hoping to overhear their conversation.

&nb
sp; Alys turned to Norris and asked if she was sighting straight. He immediately brought his cheek next to hers to look along the length of her arm, and she giggled.

  Kit tensed like the bowstring stretched taut from her fingers. How dare Norris pursue her, especially after their talk last night? The man must be peculiarly dense. Perhaps he needed a little reminder of Kit’s skills and abilities. Well, he could start by demonstrating his skill with the bow.

  As he watched, Alys made her shot. The arrow thumped straight into the target, although it was well shy of the gold circle at the center. She was good—he could see that. So could Norris, for he was patting her on the shoulder and nodding his stupid head smilingly at her.

  Norris handed her an arrow, and another shot was set up.

  “For God’s sake, man!” Kit growled under his breath. “You don’t have to adjust her arm every shot. She’ll lose her aim and have to set up again.”

  He was so absorbed in his jealous observations that he didn’t notice the woman approaching until she was right in front of him, gazing up with a puppy-dog look in her eyes.

  Anne Lacey. His nemesis. After the trouble she had caused him, he wanted no further dealings with her. Moving aside, he attempted escape but she placed an arresting hand on his arm.

  “So cold, when before you were so hot?” She tilted her head at him.

  Had she still not learned her lesson? How could she possibly imagine there was any hope for her after what she’d done to him?

  Before he could speak, a loud cracking noise, followed by a feminine gasp, met his ears.

  He looked at Alys, afraid her bow had broken and hurt her. But no—her arrow had flown below the target and struck against the wooden stand, where it had splintered into several pieces. Something must have made her lose her concentration.

  Seeing him with Anne Lacey—he hoped. “What do you want of me?”

  The girl pouted. “You don’t know? Have you never had any of those feelings that make one person cleave to another, that make the heart pound earnestly in the breast? No, I’m sure you have not, for you could have any lady you wanted, and need never suffer the pangs of love unrequited. But please take pity on me, even if you do not understand, for I find this coldness of yours more oppressive than I can bear.”

  He tried to look as if he were enjoying this conversation. And tried equally hard to pretend he was not aware of Alys’ perusal. “I fear you have been reading Sidney again, lady. He has filled your head with foolish fantasies so that you no longer know the difference between true love and imagined.”

  “Say not imagined.” Anne tugged at the sleeve above his elbow to bring his head closer to hers. “How can I imagine the heat in my belly that tortures me, and makes me thrust and thrash the whole night through?”

  Kit’s eyebrows shot up, and he gaped for a moment. How did one respond to such a remark? Hopefully, no one had overheard. Especially not Alys. He attempted to maneuver Anne farther away from the butts. “I beg you, be not so hot. It ill becomes one so young.”

  “I have suffered on your account, and you have suffered on mine. Now the game is in the balance. The stakes were high then—they could be higher still if you refuse me a second time. Nature forbids that all our sorrows should be wasted, so you will be my reward for the rending of my girlish heart, and I shall be the reward for your troubles.”

  Kit disentangled her fingers from his sleeve—her words had too much threat in them for his liking. To punish Anne Lacey by using her to arouse jealousy in Alys was too dangerous a device. Alas—too late! Alys had set down her bow and quiver and was walking up to him.

  He’d just have to see which way the wind was blowing and sail with it.

  “How now, Sir Christopher. I trust you slept well?” She barely met his gaze but looked pointedly at Anne Lacey.

  “You abandon your sport after very little trial.” His mouth quirked. “Have you such lack of patience today?”

  “I have patience a-plenty.” Her eyes roved over Anne Lacey again. “Although it may soon wear out if I have to wait much longer before being introduced to your friend. It doth amaze me how soon a gentleman can forget his manners.”

  Anne made Alys a brief curtsey. “I can make myself known to you if Kit is going to be lax. I’m Anne Lacey. And who might you be?”

  Kit watched Alys bridle. Having made the effort over the past few weeks to interpret every little nuance of her expression, he was certain he detected jealousy. Which gave him hope.

  She assumed a more sympathetic expression. “Perhaps you are a little young to gossip with the more important members of the court,” she suggested. “Else you would certainly know of the deeds performed by me and Sir Christopher here. I am Mistress Alys Barchard, child. Your pardon—I merely came across out of curiosity, in case you were the one who made up those amusing myths about you and Sir Christopher.”

  A strike up under Anne’s guard. Well done, Alys!

  Anne pulled away from him and squared up to Alys, nostrils flaring. “You forget your manners very quickly, Mistress Barchard. I know not whence this rudeness comes.”

  Alys glanced at Kit. He attempted to remove the smirk from his face—this sport was far more fun than archery.

  She continued, “You give yourself too much importance if you think I would care to vent my spleen on you. You are clearly too young to arouse anyone’s ire. Go back to your mommets or your schoolbooks—I’m sure the queen will forgive you your behavior and ridiculous accusations, as you are too young to be taken seriously.”

  Anne looked fit to burst. He had to move with lightning speed to catch her hand before it connected with Alys’ cheek. “Not here. Let us not charge our platters with more troubles—they are piled high enough already.”

  “Quite so,” came a new voice. “I do so hate to see women brawling over a man, especially one so worthless as you, Kit Ludlow.”

  He spun around in shock. “Your Majesty.” He bowed deeply, hoping he wasn’t flushing.

  How could a woman loaded with so many chains and jewels move around so silently? “I apologize if our little scene distracts you from your sport.”

  “Hardly a little scene, sir. You cannot conceal the great rancor between these two ladies. Now then, Ludlow, you have stubbornly refused to discuss your dealings with this child.” The queen waved a hand at Anne. “Is it not about time you and she both told me the truth? I believe Mistress Barchard should hear it, too.”

  He looked at Alys, her lovely eyes wide, her satin skin pale. Elizabeth was right. It was about time he stopped being a gentleman and told them all about Anne Lacey. Besides which, he’d only just regained Elizabeth’s favor—it would be grim to lose it again so soon.

  “We will go aside, to some privy chamber, and untangle this web you have woven. And mind,” the queen added, her eyes sparking, “I want no deception, no secrets. I will know all.”

  She took his arm—a good sign, he hoped—and they made their way indoors to an ante-chamber where wine and honey cakes stood on a table. If this was to be a trial, at least the accused would eat well. Bess settled herself down, and her skirts were arranged around her by one of her maids, who was then dismissed.

  “Be seated. I’ll speak to you each in turn—if you have aught to say, address each other through me. Now, to begin with you, Kit Ludlow. I ask you again—as I did numerous times last Eastertide—if you have ever encouraged the affections of Anne Lacey.”

  He closed his eyes. Anne was a viper, a bubbling cauldron of spite, but she was also young and attractive, with the prospect of making a good marriage before her. If he condemned her in front of her sovereign, she might be banished from court, and he knew exactly how that felt. His tongue refused to produce the words.

  Elizabeth tutted. “If you will not answer that question, then I will ask another. Have you ever sought the affections of Mistress Barchard?”

  This was a far easier question. “You know the answer to that, Your Majesty,” he stated bluntly. “I have already spoken
to you of how much I feel for her.”

  He sought and caught Alys’ gaze, and hoped she’d see the truth in his face. Her cheeks were crimson, but she refused to meet his eyes. He prayed to all the gods it was a maidenly blush, not outrage. For having made his declaration, he was as vulnerable to her response as a newborn kitten.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Alys’ heart thundered. Was his affection genuine, after all? Had he always cared for her, then? Not just pretended to do so, to lure her into his dance of deceit? He would surely not dare lie in front of his queen.

  After the cruel words she’d flung at him recently, she was too ashamed to meet his eyes.

  Instead, she glanced at Anne. The girl looked sour—did she realize her game was up?

  Elizabeth tapped her fingers on the arms of her chair. “So, whatever has passed before, it is clear Ludlow does not love Anne Lacey. This, in and of itself, does not invalidate her claims.”

  Alys drew in a breath. She must speak out, and pray the queen was not offended. “Oh, Your Majesty, I think he may have failed to refute her claims from a misguided sense of honor.”

  He was looking at her keenly, but he rolled his eyes at “misguided”.

  “Come now, Kit, Mistress Barchard is touchingly sure of you. Will you not please her and say sooth?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I want to please her, of course. But it sits not well with me to besmirch a lady’s character.”

  “But you shall, sir, you shall, for I command it. And if it is, indeed, your concern for a lady’s honor that stills your tongue, forget both yours and hers. For whatever you say will travel no further than these four walls—you have the word of your sovereign.”

  His dark eyes flashed, and Alys saw a hint of anger there, but he chose not to deny his queen. For which she was exceedingly grateful. She hoped she could deal with the truth of the matter, whatever it might be, for a great deal depended on Kit’s answer. The shape of their future, for a start.