Much Ado About Marriage

by Karen Hawkins

  Color stained her cheeks. “I was bending over when I was searching the fireplace, and they must have . . .” She seemed at a loss for words.

  “Spilled out?”

  Her cheeks flamed anew. “They are not totally exposed.”

  “Not . . . totally.”

  She sighed. “Mary will have my head, for this is one of my new gowns, too.”

  Thomas had to admit that she looked lovely in it, even streaked with soot, her hair a tangled mess. Of green brocade, decorated with green and gold threads, the dress sparkled even under the smudge of soot. He supposed it was a grand gown, yet compared to the mouthwatering sight of her breasts, deliciously close to overflowing her stomacher, he didn’t give a damn about the gown. At the moment, he didn’t even care that she’d been attempting to open the secret vault.

  He had once thought his lust for Fia would cool once he saw her in comparison with the other ladies of court; what a naive fool! Fia would stand out wherever she was, and he would find her appealing regardless.

  “Thomas?”

  Fia was watching him, her dark gaze assessing his expressions. He forced a smile. “What were you doing looking inside the fireplace?”

  “Oh. That. Lord Montley told me a very interesting story about a house that had a secret compartment in the fireplace and I thought perchance he meant this one. But I cannot find it.” She shrugged, looking disappointed. “I wonder if he meant there was one in his own house?”

  Damn Montley; the man cannot keep a secret. Though it was obvious the knave hadn’t told all to Fia, he’d obviously aroused her suspicions. Thomas sent a casual glance at the fireplace and noted that the area that hid the latch was still soot covered. Good. She didn’t find it, then. “If there is a secret hiding place in Montley’s house, I’m sure he has all of his best neck ruffs secured in it.”

  She chuckled. “I would not be surprised.”

  He returned the smile.”I’m sorry if I startled you; my boots were too muddy to wear inside.”

  “Of course.” She dusted her hands together to remove some of the soot, her breasts bouncing gently.

  Thomas had to look away to keep from staring.

  “Robert thinks the queen will send for us soon.”

  “I hope so.” Thomas wished he knew what was occurring in the court. For the last three days, he’d been trying his damnedest to get another meeting with Walsingham, but the minister had been oddly silent. “She is not an easy woman to gain an audience with.”

  She nodded. “I think I’m ready. We . . . we are still asking for the annulment, aren’t we? I—I’m certain I’m not with child.”

  Her soft words hung between them like a gossamer thread, tying them together by such a delicate strand that he had the impression that one misstep, one wrongly spoken word, and it would break.

  An annulment was his first thought when he’d been forced to marry her, his most ardent desire. Now . . . he wasn’t so certain. His mind told him it was the most prudent route, the one that guaranteed the safety of his heart and pride. But his heart . . . oh, how his heart lusted and burned, as did his treacherous body.

  But what frightened him the most was the growing flare of feelings he had for her. When she’d admitted she was not with child, he’d felt a sharp pang of disappointment. Nothing had ever frightened him more.

  He could see from the gentle question in her eyes that if he but took one step forward or reached out a hand, she would come to him. Within minutes they would be in his bed, their passion keeping the world at bay.

  For the moment.

  But each time he succumbed to her, he weakened yet more, and if he continued, he wouldn’t be able to say her nay to anything, whether it was good for him or not.

  With every ounce of control he possessed, he turned from her, ignoring the disappointment that flashed over her expressive face as he walked to the door. “I’ll send Mary to you anon with a tub and hot water to wash away some of that soot.”

  Fia took a step toward him, her hand resting on the wardrobe that held her writing desk and that damned mysterious amulet.

  The thought of the amulet made his temper flare even as his body tightened with a new wave of desire. “You’re covered in soot; please do not touch the chair or stand upon the rugs unless you must.”

  She dropped her hand to her side, her face flushed. “Of course. I didn’t mean to—”

  He didn’t hear any more, for he was gone, striding down the hallway, trying to calm his thundering heart. He’d send a hot bath to her along with her maid, but first he’d head to the stables to douse himself in buckets of icy well water.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Odd’s bodkin, you are a difficult man to find.” Robert’s voice was sharp with impatience.

  Thomas looked over from where he stood watching a stable hand groom a new gelding. “I’m in plain sight.”

  “Neither your beauteous wife nor any of your servants knew where you were.”

  Thomas shrugged. “Did you find that bastard? I’ve sent missive after missive to Walsingham’s house, and he ignores them all.”

  Robert looked wounded. “But of course I found him.”

  “It could not have been easy.”

  “’Twould have been difficult . . . for a mere mortal.”

  Thomas shot Robert an annoyed glance. “Of course.”

  “We may intercept him this very afternoon.”

  Thomas turned toward his friend. “Robert, you were right about Walsingham; he is not to be trusted. I know he’s received my messages, yet he refuses to return so much as a word. I’ve asked him to request an audience with the queen, too, which he assured me he’d do. This morning I saw Essex as I was leaving Walsingham’s residence, and he said no request has been made.”

  “I wonder what darkness that spider is weaving now?”

  “I don’t know, but ’tis not to our benefit. Where will he be this afternoon?”

  “He is to meet a spy from the French court at the tavern around two. If we go slightly afterward . . .” Robert shrugged.

  “How did you discover his whereabouts?”

  Robert looked pleased. “Through the elegant Annie, of course.”

  “The woman we saw with Walsingham? But how—” Thomas broke off at Robert’s grin. “You seduced her.”

  “’Twas more a coupling than a seduction. It turned out that the icy Annie is not so chilled once she’s been warmed by a proper introduction.”

  “I’m grateful for the information, however you discovered it. We’ll leave immediately.” He motioned for one of the stable hands to approach.

  It was time to settle with Walsingham one way or another.

  Goliath’s eyes narrowed. “Whot ye doin’ here?”

  “I came to see Letty.”

  “She’s no’ here. No’ fer ye, anyway.”

  Thomas dug into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin that glittered in the dim light. “No?”

  Goliath eyed the coin, greed in his little eyes as he stretched his hand forth. “Mayhap, I—”

  “Hallo, my large, smelly friend!” Robert grabbed Goliath’s outstretched hand and pumped it eagerly. “Verily, I have been dreaming of this meeting.”

  A bemused look fell over Goliath. His shaggy brows lowered and he closed his massive hand about Robert’s. His muscles bulged as he squeezed.

  “How am I to reach for my gold if you crush my hand?” Robert asked through clenched teeth.

  The huge paw slackened its grip and Robert pulled free. Perspiration beaded his brow. “By the rood, but I would like to see you take on a bear!”

  Goliath grunted.

  Robert wiggled his fingers before he dropped a coin in Goliath’s hand. “You could have maimed the finest rapier hand in all of England. ’Twould have been a tragedy.”

  “Braggin’ on yerself agin, Master Robbie?” Annie asked, opening the door beside Goliath. Her green eyes twinkled mischievously.

  Robert grinned in return. “I don’t know. Do you
think ’twas bragging, mistress of mine heart?”

  “Enough,” Thomas said shortly. “Where’s Letty?”

  Annie answered quickly, “She’ll be here soon.”

  Goliath frowned. “No one said nothin’ ’bout these two.”

  Annie sent the guard a dismissive look. “Mind yer own, Goliath. Letty pays ye not to ask questions; ye’d do well to remember that.”

  Thomas walked past her into the room and dropped into a chair. “How long will we have to wait?”

  “Not long.” Annie placed three mugs on the table.

  Thomas noted that while her cheeks were artfully smeared with dirt, her neck and hair were remarkably clean.

  “How did you get the knave to join us?” Robert asked.

  “Walsingham just met a messenger from the French court. He walked to his carriage but will return for me soon.” She shot Robert a humorous glance. “He won’t be pleased to see the two of you.”

  “Will you be in trouble for assisting us?” Thomas asked.

  Annie shrugged. “I doubt it. I’ve my own uses and Walsingham knows them well.”

  “Thank you, ma chère.”

  Annie sent Robert a saucy look before she slipped out the door, her skirts swishing.

  “Sweet Jesu, I find that woman intriguing,” murmured Robert. “I wish I—” A noise arose outside. “A-ha. He comes.”

  The door swung open and Walsingham entered. “Annie, pray make haste, for—” He broke off, the door closing behind him.

  “Surprised?” Thomas asked, his irritation rising now that he faced the old man.

  The minister pushed back his hood, his mouth tight with displeasure. “What do you want?”

  “Don’t say you didn’t get any of my messages, for I know otherwise.”

  The older man’s lips thinned. “In case you have forgotten, I am under the queen’s command and my duties are vastly important. I’ve been very busy this week.”

  “Oh?” Robert affected surprise. “Weaving more webs? You?”

  Walsingham sent the Scotsman a chilly look. “I’ve been busy protecting this country.” He turned to Thomas. “Since you are here, you might as well tell me of your visit with MacLean.”

  “I didn’t come to be your informer. I came to ask you about something MacLean left me.”

  Walsingham frowned. “What?”

  “This.” Thomas opened the bundle he’d tucked under his cloak and laid the casket upon the table.

  Walsingham regarded the casket as one might regard a holy relic. “Queen Mary’s casket.” Walsingham sent him a hard glance. “MacLean sent it? Did he say why?”

  “Nay. Only that ’twas a payment of sorts.”

  “Ah! Good.” Walsingham looked pleased. “So he didn’t say anything else.”

  Thomas leaned back in his chair, crossed his boots at the ankles, and placed them upon the table. “What should he have said?”

  “Nothing. I was just musing aloud.” Walsingham reached for the casket, his eyes glittering as he opened the box and looked within. His smile disappeared. “Thomas . . . the letters.”

  “Aye. They prove Mary’s perfidy in Darnley’s death.”

  “But they’re not here.” Walsingham turned the casket toward Thomas. “’Tis empty.”

  “What?” Robert snapped.

  Thomas’s chair slammed onto the floor. “Damn it to hell, they were there, in that casket, not a week ago!”

  Walsingham’s brows drew down until they almost touched. “So you saw these letters for yourself? Read them?”

  “Of course,” Thomas answered shortly.

  The minister gave a muttered curse and slammed the lid shut. “By all that’s holy, we’ve been tricked.” Walsingham’s hands curled into fists. “Tricked by a Scottish bastard! After all I gave him! After all of the chances I took! I should have known better than to have—” The minister halted and closed his mouth, seeming to think better of his words.

  Something rang false about this entire episode. “You knew MacLean brought me the casket and letters.”

  “I’ve never seen them until now.”

  Robert made an impatient noise. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  The minister sent Robert a hard glare, but after a moment, he shrugged. “Fine. I knew MacLean had at least one letter. I had no idea there were more, though it doesn’t surprise me.”

  Robert leaned forward. “You are still hiding something. Tell us all.”

  Walsingham’s lips folded into a frown. “There is nothing more to tell.”

  “I disagree.”

  “We have both been duped. Me for trusting a Scottish infidel, and you for . . .” The reedy voice faded into silence.

  Some shadowy fact lurked on the edge of Thomas’s mind. Slowly, he said, “You knew what was in the casket because MacLean had already told you. Because you had already paid him for it.”

  Walsingham licked his dry lips. “I have not—”

  “You said ‘After all I gave him.’ And MacLean said ’twas for a debt owed and now paid.” Thomas remembered Fia blithely explaining that Duncan had enough gold and silver tucked away to replace any trifling candelabras she might steal. He pinned Walsingham with a frigid glare. “But MacLean did not seek money.”

  The bony hands closed into fists. “Nay. He did not.”

  “The truth,” Thomas said dangerously, coldness seeping through his bones and chilling his heart. “I want the truth.”

  Robert scowled. “The truth and this man have ever been strangers. I wouldn’t believe him were he to swear upon his own blood.”

  Walsingham flicked a contemptuous glance at Robert. “There is nothing left but the truth.”

  Robert leaned across the table. “Then speak quickly, old man, else I will slit your gullet.”

  Walsingham shoved the casket to the center of the table. “My association with MacLean began the week after Queen Mary’s husband, Lord Darnley, was murdered. As you know, rumors began almost immediately, implicating her and her lover, Lord Bothwell, in the death. However, Elizabeth would not hear of Mary’s involvement without conclusive proof. I had to find that proof.”

  “So you approached MacLean?”

  “Aye. Repeatedly. At first he resisted, but eventually he came to see how advantageous this arrangement would be. He offered to provide the letters, stolen from the queen’s lady-in-waiting, and I—” Walsingham flicked a nervous glance at Thomas. “I compensated him.”

  “How did you buy him? Land?” Robert demanded.

  “Nay,” the counselor said. “There are few things the MacLeans holds of value. It would have made our negotiations much simpler had he wanted land.”

  Thomas leaned forward, not recognizing his own voice, so harsh and distant. “What was his price?”

  Hooded gray eyes flickered for an instant. “I did what I thought was best. What needed to be done.”

  “What did you trade MacLean for the letters?”

  The minister said nothing.

  Robert’s rapier lifted, the slender point resting directly under the counselor’s chin.

  Walsingham swallowed, the sound echoing throughout the room, and a trickle of blood dripped down his neck.

  “Speak!” Thomas commanded, his fists clenched.

  “A bridegroom,” answered Walsingham, gulping air. “I sold him a bridegroom.”

  “Mon Dieu!” Robert’s sword arm dropped, his eyes wide as he turned to Thomas. “’Twas you!”

  The truth struck Thomas with the solidness of steel against bone. He had been sold like a bull at auction. He felt as though his soul had been shredded. Anger, pure and hot, poured through him.

  Trust no one, his father had said. No one.

  Thomas took a deep breath. “What of the letter I was sent to retrieve from Duart? What of that?”

  Walsingham wiped the blood from his throat with a cloth. “’Twas fabricated. MacLean was desirous of meeting you before he sealed the bargain. He swore to deliver the casket to me here, at the
inn, the week after you married his cousin. It never arrived. Instead, MacLean showed up at Rotherwood with that damnable army and refused to see me. I didn’t know he had left the casket with you.”

  “I was a fool from the beginning.”

  “Nay, Thomas.” The minister leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not a fool. Just loyal. The queen will—”

  Thomas shoved the hand away. “I was a fool. A blind fool.” How Fia must have laughed at me. The thought burned through his soul.

  Walsingham sighed. “Thomas, I know you don’t see it as such, but ’tis a compliment of sorts. He could have asked far more and I would have paid. Title, lands, anything. Instead he asked for a noble bridegroom to wed his cousin and take her from his war-ravaged home.” He shrugged. “All in all, ’twas easy enough to arrange.”

  The rapier flashed up again, the tip hovering but a hairsbreadth from the pale skin. “Sweet Jesu, Thomas,” Robert cried, “let me slice this evil whoreson!”

  “Nay,” Thomas answered, and Robert reluctantly lowered his blade, his visage black with fury. A multitude of images swirled through Thomas’s mind, foremost among them the picture of Fia calmly telling him she intended to go to London whatever the price.

  Whatever the price.

  It had seemed coincidental that she had been fleeing the very castle he had stolen into. It had seemed equally fortuitous she had been on her way to London as well, he thought bitterly. As was the fact that his horse had been chased off by her dog, leaving the two of them with Thunder, whose slow pace had ensured their capture. Then the chit had stolen his boots and lured him into the hall right in front of her cousin and his guests.

  The damning memories piled up, one upon the other.

  It had all been planned. All of it. He could still hear Duncan thundering of Fia’s honor and virtue, and how ’twas Thomas’s duty to wed her. But it had been no coincidence that they had been caught in such a compromising position. Duncan and Fia had planned the entire miserable episode.

  The minister placed a hand on Thomas’s sleeve. “Thomas, I never intended for the wedding to stand, I knew the queen would grant an annulment. You would have been freed as soon as you set foot in court. I should have arranged for that already, but I’ve been busy dealing with the French and—I vow that before the week is out, you will have your annulment.”