Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

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Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 53

by Virginia Heath


  ‘You don’t think he’ll support the rebellion?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head adamantly. ‘My father would never turn against the King.’

  ‘Yet you’re still determined to stay with the Queen?’ He moved closer, breathing in the faint scent of apples as he tipped his head towards hers. ‘Some of her other ladies will be returning to England soon.’

  ‘What?’ Her mouth fell open in shock. ‘You mean, they’re abandoning her?’

  ‘Running away might be a better way of putting it. They know they’re not welcome in France any longer.’

  ‘But shouldn’t we warn the Queen? They could report to the King what’s been happening!’

  ‘They won’t be telling him anything he doesn’t already know. The point is, you could still get out of here and go with them. Your father might be glad of it.’

  ‘Only for the King’s sake, not because he wants me back!’ She clamped a hand over her mouth suddenly. ‘Forgive me. I should not have said that.’

  ‘Say whatever you like, especially about parents. I’ve said far worse about mine.’

  ‘Really?’ She looked interested.

  ‘Many times, but that’s not what we’re discussing.’

  ‘Mmm.’ She started to tap her foot anxiously. ‘Do you know what people are saying about the Queen in England? I’d like to know what my father might have heard.’

  ‘They know that she’s refusing to go home. It’s been almost a year since she left with no sign of return.’

  ‘But are they angry?’

  ‘On the contrary, I’d say that most are sympathetic. The King’s recent behaviour hasn’t exactly endeared him to the people.’

  ‘So there are no rumours?’ She glanced up and down the corridor. ‘About Mortimer?’

  ‘So far, only at court.’

  ‘So far...’ She seemed to draw in a long breath before shaking her head. ‘No, I can’t leave. I know that’s what my father would want, but he was the one who sent me here, and now that I am here...well, I’m the Queen’s lady now. That means that my loyalty is to her.’

  ‘No matter what?’

  ‘No matter what.’

  ‘As you wish. As long as you understand this may be your last chance to leave before the invasion.’

  ‘Is that what you want?’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘For me to leave?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Because this is the second time that you’ve suggested it. Anyone would think you were trying to get rid of me.’

  He lifted his eyebrows, surprised to realise she was right. He was acting as if he wanted her to go back to England when in fact the very opposite was true. ‘It’s not that. It’s just that I don’t want you to end up feeling trapped.’

  ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘Because I know what it’s like.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her eyelashes dipped for a moment before she looked up again. ‘Is that what you are? Trapped?’

  He made a face. ‘Spying isn’t a profession I would necessarily have chosen, but I’m one of Mortimer’s men. Unless I turn mercenary, I don’t have a choice about that. So I do what, and go where, I’m told.’

  ‘Did you help him escape from the Tower?’

  ‘You ask a lot of questions, Lady Mathilde.’

  ‘Because I’m trying to work out whether or not I can trust you.’

  ‘Ah. I thought I warned you about trusting people.’

  ‘You did, but I want to make up my own mind.’

  He grinned at that. She really had changed in the time since they’d last spoken in the stairwell. The wide eyes were less innocent and the country accent less obvious, although there was still an honesty about her that called out to him. But she was asking about whether or not she could trust him, which begged the same question about her. Could she really be trusted? Inasmuch as he trusted anyone, which was never completely. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, deciding to find out just how honest she really was... ‘What would you give me to answer your questions, lady?’

  She swayed backwards, although she didn’t look away. ‘What is it you want?’

  ‘Only to ask a question of my own. That’s fair, isn’t it?’

  ‘That depends on the question.’

  ‘It’s nothing terrible. Just about who spends time with the Queen when Mortimer isn’t here. Whether there’s anyone else she takes into her confidence?’

  ‘Why would you ask? Doesn’t your master trust her?’

  ‘He’s cautious.’

  ‘Then tell him to ask someone else!’ She shoved the trinket box hard against his chest. ‘I won’t spy on the Queen and I won’t be bought either. You can keep your gift, Henry Wright.’

  ‘Wait! I’m sorry.’ He caught hold of the box before it fell to the floor, surprised by her fierceness. He’d anticipated her refusal, but he hadn’t expected her to be quite so angry. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. I only wanted to know how you’d react.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because spying’s a bad habit, I suppose, and because you looked so suspicious that I didn’t dare ask for what I really wanted.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  He paused as she put her hands on her hips, knowing that he ought not to say the words and then going ahead anyway. ‘Just one kiss, lady.’

  She drew in a sharp breath, her cheeks reddening before she tossed her head and stormed past him, heading towards the great hall. ‘Compliments won’t work either. I’m not such a fool as you think I am!’

  ‘I’ve never thought you were a fool. Wait! I was in the boat that rescued him!’ He called the words out more loudly than he’d intended, gratified when she stopped five paces away, half turning her head over one shoulder.

  ‘You were?’

  ‘Yes. There were three of us. We waited for darkness, then made for the walls of the Tower and waited for Mortimer to appear on the roof. Afterwards, we rowed to the south side of the Thames where someone else was waiting with horses. Then we rode straight for the coast.’

  ‘Did the King pursue you?’ She stood stock-still as he came to stand behind her.

  ‘He sent a small army, but by the time the alarm was raised, we were long gone.’

  ‘Mortimer must trust you a great deal.’

  ‘He does.’

  ‘The Queen trusts me, too.’ She turned around then, her eyes blazing defiance as if there were tiny fires inside them. ‘And I won’t betray her. Not ever.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to. I won’t ask such questions again, I promise, but keep this. Please.’ He placed the trinket box back in her hands, his fingers pressing lightly against her palms before he let go. ‘It would be a shame to waste good dirt.’

  ‘Did you really bring this back from England for me?’ There was a catch in her voice this time.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I like you, Lady Mathilde. I shouldn’t, but I do. And for what it’s worth, you can trust me.’ He let his gaze dwell on hers for a long moment, captivated by the swirling depths of her dark eyes. Looking closer, he could see that they weren’t a plain brown at all, but a variety of shades, from mahogany to hazel to amber. Given the opportunity, he could have spent hours staring into them, but this wasn’t the time or the place. If he wasn’t mistaken, there were footsteps approaching, moving quickly, too... He took a step backwards and winked, breaking the atmosphere of tension between them. ‘And now you owe me a kiss.’

  He didn’t wait to see her reaction, disappearing into the shadows just as Mortimer came striding down the corridor.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘Have you ever been in love?’ Isabella tipped her golden head to one side, gazing at her reflection in a gilt-edged mirror while Mathilde drew an antler comb through the tresses.

  ‘No, Your Grace.’ She felt colour rise
in her cheeks as an image of Henry’s face flashed, unbidden, into her mind, though judging by the Queen’s dreamy expression, she wasn’t paying any attention to her reaction.

  ‘You know, I fancied myself in love with my husband once. I was only thirteen when I married, all innocent and full of hope for the future. I thought that I was lucky, that it would be easy to love such a man. Edward was so handsome and I knew so little...’ Isabella’s voice cracked and then hardened. ‘I gave him four children and stood by his side when the barons rebelled. I did everything he asked and yet he still never cared about me. Or his people either. I’ve no choice but to do what I’m doing now. You understand that, don’t you, Mathilde?’

  ‘Of course, Your Grace.’

  ‘If this invasion fails, then he’ll call me an unnatural wife and lock me away in some remote castle for ever. That’s why it cannot fail. I have to succeed, to make my husband treat me as I deserve.’ She sat upright again, looking pleased by the thought, gesturing towards one of her finest satin gowns as Katharine appeared in the mirror behind them. ‘I’ll wear the gold tonight. I want to look my best.’

  Mathilde pressed her lips together, refusing to wonder why the Queen wished to look her best for a private dinner with Mortimer. For a woman so skilled at dissembling, having played the part of a contented and obedient wife for seventeen years, she seemed to have lost all her acting abilities when it came to him.

  It was sinful, but Mathilde couldn’t entirely blame her. Mortimer’s escape from the Tower lent him an air of mystery and danger and there was something compelling about his arrogance, not to mention his vivid blue eyes and dark good looks, so much like Henry’s. It was no wonder that Isabella was besotted with him, she thought, especially when she’d been neglected by her husband for so long. Maybe it wasn’t so very wrong to fall in love under such circumstances.

  * * *

  She voiced her thoughts aloud to Katharine and Lady Cecily that evening when they were sitting alone by the fireside.

  ‘I doubt that Mortimer’s wife would agree with you.’ Katharine gave a derisive snort.

  ‘You don’t like him very much, do you?’

  ‘I don’t like the influence he has over her. When Isabella wears widow’s clothing she gathers support as a wronged wife, a victim of Edward, but the more she favours Mortimer, the more she risks losing all of that. She’s discreet enough, but she ought to curb his behaviour. He acts like some kind of consort.’

  ‘Queens do not marry for love,’ Cecily commented softly. ‘They know better than to expect it either.’

  ‘Then maybe they ought to marry for love,’ Mathilde argued, feeling rebellious. ‘That way, there would be no need to lead invasions against their husbands.’

  ‘The world does not work that way, not for many of us.’

  Mathilde blinked, surprised by the note of sadness in Cecily’s voice, even more so when Katharine wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. Katharine was a widow of long standing, but Cecily was still married, although she never mentioned her husband. She only ever talked about her children, three boys, one of them grown, the others being raised in separate households. Mathilde knew that she worried about them and yet some instinct told her that, this time at least, her sigh wasn’t for them. There was a sense of intimacy about the way she clung to Katharine, too, one that made her feel as though she were intruding upon something private.

  A sound of voices interrupted the silence and Cecily lifted her head with a look of alarm, her eyes already red and swollen.

  ‘I’ll see what’s happening.’ Mathilde stood up, relieved by the interruption, then felt her stomach lurch as she went through to the corridor and found Henry talking with one of the guards. She’d hidden his trinket box, with its content of dirt, away in her small chest of belongings, uncertain about whether or not she ought to keep it, but she’d been unable to put his words out of her mind so easily. He liked her, but he knew that he shouldn’t. What did that mean? And what did she feel about him?

  She couldn’t bring herself to dislike him any longer, not when he seemed to genuinely want to help her—to help her escape, even—and he said that she could trust him, but he was a traitor, whereas she... In all honesty, she wasn’t sure what she was. Loyal to the Queen, but not a traitor. Not yet anyway. Even so, she couldn’t seem to prevent all of her inner organs from performing somersaults at the sight of him. Did he still want a kiss?

  ‘Lady Mathilde?’ Unlike their previous meetings, he seemed less than pleased to see her. ‘Pardon the intrusion, but I need to speak with Mortimer.’

  ‘He’s with the Queen.’

  ‘So I’ve just heard.’ He made a face, reaching into his tunic and drawing out a narrow scroll of parchment. ‘In that case, kindly give him this and tell him Dubois is here.’

  ‘Can’t it wait?’ She made a face of her own, reluctant to disturb the Queen, but he shook his head emphatically.

  ‘It’s important. I would not ask otherwise, lady, I promise.’

  Mathilde looked from him to the parchment, staring at them both dubiously for a few seconds. ‘All right. Wait here.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He still sounded tense. ‘I appreciate that it might be...awkward.’

  She gave him a look that implied she had no idea what he was talking about before rapping gently on the door to the Queen’s withdrawing chamber.

  ‘Come in,’ Isabella replied almost instantly.

  ‘Your Grace.’ Mathilde opened the door and dropped into a curtsy. To her immense relief, the Queen and Mortimer were merely sitting side by side on a settle, both of them looking towards her expectantly.

  ‘Please forgive the interruption, Your Grace, but this just arrived.’ She crossed the room and held out the scroll. ‘I was told it’s important.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’ Mortimer plucked the parchment from her fingers, unravelling it and reading the contents swiftly before murmuring a few names to the Queen.

  ‘All of them will join us?’ Isabella looked pleased.

  ‘The moment we land.’

  ‘Is it certain? Can they be trusted?’

  ‘Not by the King.’ Mortimer laughed at his own joke. ‘But they wouldn’t risk sending word if they didn’t mean it.’

  ‘Your Grace?’ Mathilde murmured quietly. ‘I was also told that someone else has arrived, a man by the name of Dubois.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Isabella smiled. ‘Tell him that his master is occupied, but will speak with him in the morning. Tell him not to go anywhere or speak to anyone else until then.’ She reached into a box and extracted a leather pouch. If the sound of clinking was anything to judge by, it contained coins. ‘In the meantime, give him this as a token of appreciation from his Queen with her gratitude. Only be sure to give it to him in person, won’t you, Mathilde? I know that I can trust you.’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace.’

  She curtsied again and went out, closing the door carefully behind her. Henry was waiting exactly where she’d left him, Katharine standing alongside now, too, her sharp eyes looking him up and down appraisingly.

  ‘Is Mortimer coming?’ He got straight to the point, seemingly oblivious to Katharine’s scrutiny.

  ‘No. The Queen says that he’ll speak to Dubois in the morning, but I’ve to give him this pouch for now.’

  ‘I’ll take it.’ He reached a hand out, but she drew her own back, tightening her grip on the leather.

  ‘She told me to give it to him in person.’

  ‘No.’ His voice was firm. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s not a good idea, believe me.’

  ‘It’s what the Queen commands.’ She lifted her chin. ‘She trusts me to carry out her orders.’

  ‘And of course you trust her.’

  ‘Yes!’ She bristled at the cynicism in his voice. ‘I do.’
/>   ‘The resemblance is a strong one.’ Katharine interrupted suddenly. ‘You’re very like him.’

  ‘What?’ Mathilde twisted towards the other woman in surprise. What did she mean by resemblance? To whom? Henry had told her that he was Sir Nobody of Nowhere and yet if the look on his face was anything to go by, he understood exactly what Katharine meant.

  ‘So people tell me.’ His tone was guarded now.

  ‘What do they call you?’

  ‘Henry Wright.’

  ‘Wright. After your mother’s family, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Katharine nodded. ‘Very well, Henry Wright, take her and bring her back again soon. I’ll hold you accountable for her safety.’

  ‘Then I’ll be sure not to fail you, my lady.’ He inclined his head with a look of grudging respect before turning around, stalking out of the apartment and away down the gallery.

  Mathilde threw Katharine one last questioning look before hurrying after him, almost running to keep up. She wanted to ask who it was he resembled, but judging by his brisk pace and taciturn silence, he wasn’t in the mood for talking and, in that case, neither was she. She’d finally decided how she felt about him and she didn’t like him, not one bit. The moment she got back, she was going to throw his box of dirt out of the window for good.

  She was so busy ranting inwardly, and walking so quickly, that she didn’t notice when the toe of one of her leather shoes caught on the edge of a flagstone, sending her stumbling forward, face downwards towards the floor. Instinctively, she lifted her hands to break the fall, but a strong arm reached her first, catching her around the waist and lifting her back to her feet and against an equally strong, solid-feeling chest. She gasped, startled as much by the warm pressure of Henry’s body against her own as by the unwanted shiver of excitement that raced down her spine and pooled in her abdomen.

  ‘Mathilde,’ he murmured her name and she looked up, seeing his gaze soften as it moved over her face, as if there were something there he didn’t understand.

 

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