Lord of Deception

by Keysian, Elizabeth

  “They said you’d be provincial.” The woman’s ringing tones reverberated around the room. “And I can see they were right. Never mind. We shall be honest with each other, you and I, and I’ll help polish your manners and your apparel. Will that serve?”

  Alys was too distracted by the woman’s finery to reply at once. The stranger’s skirts were so puffed out that they’d brushed both sides of the doorway as she entered. They were of a deep, velvety gold, open at the front to reveal an elaborately stitched satin under-kirtle. The neckline of the bodice was uncovered, indicating that the wearer was unmarried, and the pale flesh below her neck was adorned with a fine chain of gold and pearls. Pearls had also been strung in her frizzed and puffed-out hair, and a tiny cap, edged with lace, formed a border to the coiffure. Before such splendor, Alys felt herself to be very lowly indeed.

  “I’m Jane Haslitt, one of the ladies-in-waiting. I’m here to prepare you for supper this evening and your meeting with the queen.”

  Alys exchanged looks with Lettice, who produced a curtsey of her own, then backed away. “Alys Barchard at your service.”

  “Yes, yes, I already know that. Supper is at five, so we don’t have long to make you presentable. Come with me, and we’ll find you a decent gown to wear. Then your woman can dress your hair.”

  As Alys allowed herself to be marched away by her new helpmate, she shot a look at Lettice. The girl’s eyes were round, and she looked positively petrified. In truth, she felt little better herself. But it was her own actions that had set her life upon this course, so she must hide her fears, and make the best of it.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Jane Haslitt was inclined to be friendly. “You have been stout-hearted in foiling this plot, I’m sure,” she said, as she led the way to her chamber. “And deserve the praise and gratitude of all who serve the queen. Let me be among the first to thank you, as I am ever in her company and would like as not been killed along with many others. Rumor has it this armed attack was to be at Whitehall. I am dying to hear more.”

  Alys entered a room even larger than Kate’s at Selwood. A maid stood ready, next to a bed on which several sumptuous gowns had been laid out. A large array of sewing things covered a table nearby.

  “I fear I cannot divulge anything of the plot.” She needed Kit to tell her what she could, and could not, say. She needed him to tell her a lot of things, in fact. “My apologies.”

  Conversation was cut off while the maid deftly stripped Alys down to her shift, then tutted, and removed that as well. Before she could complain, a fine linen garment had been dropped over her head. It felt like wearing thistledown.

  Feeling mean-spirited at repaying such kindness with silence, Alys ventured, “If it is not already known, it doubtless soon will be, that Sir Christopher Ludlow played his part in the guise of a gardener. He didn’t fool me for long. Yet I know little of his genuine history—could you enlighten—”

  Jane clapped her hands together. “Ah, how it lightens my heart to hear it. What a merry jest, that the great Kit Ludlow should be so humbled. A gardener, i’faith! Great punishment indeed for so proud a fellow.”

  Alys tried again. “Know you aught of the reasons for his exile, or anything of the lady he dishonored?”

  Jane gave a mischievous smile as she pulled out a gown from the heap on the bed. “Ah. What lady would not wish to be dishonored by him! Oh, but I see I have shocked you—you have gone quite pink. I crave pardon—I was ever too free with my tongue. You must understand there are many liaisons and intrigues at court, but they mean but little. Men and women play games that both enjoy, secure in the knowledge that no real harm can come of it. That was not, alas, the case with Anne Lacey.”

  Alys raised her arms while a waist roll was tied on, followed by a petticoat. “Anne Lacey was the one he dishonored?”

  “Well, it was never proven, of course. She was, is, an empty-headed thing, and quite obviously head over heels in love with Sir Christopher. The affair was all kept very quiet. Indeed, I am not even sure what she accused him of in the end. I know he was required to marry her and bluntly refused, which was why he was sent away. As far as I know, she is still unwed, and there is no sign about her person that any foul deeds were done—if you know what I mean.”

  Alys blinked.

  “I mean she does not grow thick about the waist, which she would have by now had she been bedded. Regardless, her father claimed she was ruined for any husband, which was why so much pressure was put on Ludlow.”

  The maid helped Alys step into a voluminous skirt, then tied a decorative stomacher in place to support her breasts. “Why would he not marry the lady, do you think?”

  Jane held up a bodice and tucked it under Alys’ chin. “This suits your coloring. No gentleman likes to be forced into wedlock.”

  “But if he lay with her, as people suppose, he must have known he should marry her.”

  “My dear child, do not believe that every man who lies with a woman does so because he intends to marry her. Oh, dear, how very innocent you are. I can see I shall have to take you under my wing, or you will never survive at court.”

  Alys smiled weakly, trying to hide the emptiness inside. So, it was true then—Kit was a man without honor.

  Jane clasped her elbow. “Don’t be too hard on him. As I said, ’twas never proved. I should think any maid who had lain with Kit Ludlow might boast of it as Anne did, but maybe she invented the story to trap him. You must ask him yourself—you can be no stranger to him after what you’ve both been through.”

  “I have asked him. He did not wish to speak of it.”

  Jane handed the bodice to the maid and looked Alys straight in the eyes. “It may well be that Sir Christopher has been unjustly dealt with. I know Anne Lacey and much dislike her. She’s too young to have mastered the rules of court affaires, and too selfish to be honest in all her dealings.”

  She hoped she hadn’t made her feelings for Kit too obvious. “So, what is she like, this Anne Lacey?”

  “She has seen sixteen summers or more but behaves like a spoiled brat of ten. You will soon see how she cannot be with a man, but she must touch him. She leans close into his face when she speaks as if she were already intimate with him. And she displays her wealth for all to see. She has no need of a rich husband like Kit Ludlow, but she holds her own worth so high that none but the richest, most handsome man at court will serve for her husband.”

  It must have been Anne Lacey who’d flounced up to Kit earlier. “What is she like with women?” It was harder to speak now, as the maid was yanking at her hair with a hefty comb, and pulling it back from her face.

  “Oh, they are of far less interest—she barely bothers with us. But if she knew of Kit’s fondness for you, you’d find her a cunning enemy.”

  “I know not that he has any fondness for me.” None that she dared trust.

  “A man such as that would only entrust his secrets to someone he holds in high regard. You look doleful. Come, see how you look in the glass. Does that not bring the smile back to your lips?”

  Jane’s maid held the mirror for Alys, who stepped back so she could see herself better.

  The gasp that sprang to her lips made the other women grin. She couldn’t help but beam herself—she had been transformed.

  Her dark hair had been brushed out and up and was now piled under a dainty lace cap interlaced with red silk ribbon. Her ears bore eardrops of blood-red carnelians, and around her throat was a matching necklet, which picked out the deep natural color of her lips. The borrowed gown was of russet brown, trimmed with scarlet ribbon at breast and cuffs. Where the puffed sleeves were slashed, they showed undersleeves of red satin, each slash being trimmed with a tiny carnelian teardrop. A long sigh escaped her. Even Kate had no gear to match this.

  “There now—how Kit will admire you when he sets eyes upon you. And if you choose not to welcome his attentions, court is full of hopeful young lordlings, looking for royal favor. What better place to find
a handsome, well-set-up husband than here, amongst the queen’s most wealthy and loyal subjects?”

  A distant bell echoed down the passageway outside. Suddenly, Jane was all bustle and authority. She signaled to the maid. “Gatty, the door if you please. Where are my gloves? You were told to have them cleaned for Mistress Barchard to borrow. Oh, but you are a careless wench. That’s it, thank you… although why I should be thanking you, I have no idea. Come Alys—put all unwelcome thoughts from your head, and enjoy your first evening at Elizabeth’s court.”

  Taking a last look at herself in the glass, Alys found a confidence she’d never felt before. But whether it would be enough to convince Kit he was of no importance to her remained to be seen.

  Chapter Forty

  Kit forced himself to stop chewing the inside of his cheek. His hands were sweating, something he’d never experienced before. He must be sick—nervousness was something Sir Christopher Ludlow had never suffered from, and he was confident his expected interview with the queen would have a satisfactory outcome.

  Yes, he was undoubtedly unwell, for now, his knees shook. Ridiculous to imagine it was anything else. But it was a great pity neither Queen Bess, nor Alys would find him at his best.

  Where was Alys? He’d pretended indifference since her rejection of his suit, but it was a pretense he was struggling to maintain. He’d thought of her every waking moment—and even a few sleeping ones—and prayed for a solution to their quarrel.

  When she entered the banqueting room with Jane Haslitt by her side, he barely recognized her. But even if he’d not known her, she would have stolen his breath. Her head was held high, and she wore her new raiment with aplomb as if she’d been carrying silk and jewels on her back all her life. She was stunning, and from the way the other men stared as she came into supper, they were of the same opinion.

  An ear-splitting cacophony of bombardes and shawms erupted from the gallery, and he jumped. Then a heavy hand came down upon his shoulder, and he looked into the face of Hubert Norris as the man settled in next to him.

  He didn’t like the way the other man’s eyes flickered to the garter about Kit’s leg, then up to the gold chain about his neck, both gifts for his past service and loyalty. Though Kit’s senior by several years, Norris sported none of these marks of royal esteem. Jealousy made men devious.

  Norris broke the bread in front of him and proffered half to Kit. Absent-mindedly, he took it, his eyes still riveted on Alys.

  “That, I take it, is the young lady who proved so helpful to you in bringing down a nest of traitors.” Norris waved a hand in Alys’ direction.

  He’d rather have her beside him than Norris. The man was swarthy-looking, and he never made direct eye contact for long. “Aye, that is she.”

  “And no doubt the queen will be showing her gratitude to both you and the lady?”

  “Aye, she may.” He wasn’t in the mood to talk to Norris. Surely the man would get the hint.

  Norris sipped at his wine. “And the conspirators are at present in the Tower, awaiting their trial, I hear.”

  “That is so.” Where was Alys going to sit? Who would have the ear of the newest beauty at court? Not that he should mind. It was no business of his.

  “When might that be, I wonder?”

  “I know not. Forgive me, Norris, I am rather out of sorts this night. I mean not to be rude.”

  “Oh, no, no!” Norris grinned, waving his goblet cheerfully. “I quite understand. Here am I, bombarding you with questions to which, like as not, you have no answer—my apologies. I have heard Walsingham likes to keep his spies in ignorance to some extent, even of one another. That must lead to complications—I wonder how you managed?”

  “We managed well enough.” Kit pushed a steak of mutton around his plate. “But if you really wish to have your questions answered, you should appeal to Sir Francis himself.”

  “Perhaps I should.” Norris twirled his goblet between his fingers. “Or even tax Bess with them. I wonder whether this plot was connected in any way with the Spanish. As you know, I have traveled there many times, and have seen at first hand the exasperation of the king. It seems Philip cannot understand how one monarch may keep another a virtual prisoner, particularly when Mary is Elizabeth’s own cousin. But then, I understand your Mistress Barchard was cousin to the woman she betrayed, so mayhap ’tis not so unnatural after all.”

  Kit gave Norris his full attention. “May I recommend the Pies of Parys? They are very fine tonight.”

  “Ah.” Norris good-humoredly tapped his nose. “I know when I’ve been told to mind my own business. If you don’t wish to regale me with the tale of your derring-do, I shall have to respect your wishes. But I warn you, sir, I shall have the whole tale eventually.”

  Thankfully, the man then turned his attention to the gaudy female sitting opposite, so Kit could continue his meal in peace. This tranquility was short-lived, however, when he caught Norris staring hard at Alys. As soon as she sensed this perusal, she looked right at him, and blinked, her cheeks darkening.

  Kit scowled. If she must reject him, and find other admirers at court, she could certainly do better than Hubert Norris. As soon as he had the opportunity, he would tell her so.

  Whether she liked it or not.

  Chapter Forty-One

  When the supper things had been cleared away, a ripple of anticipation passed through the diners. But for Alys, it was a tide of apprehension—these people knew how to behave before the queen. She did not.

  As Elizabeth and her maids-of-honor came through from her private parlor to listen to the minstrels and watch the dancing, Alys stared in wonderment at her monarch. Despite her advancing years, Elizabeth had a regal bearing that eclipsed everyone else in the room. None was dressed as elaborately as she, nor boasted the same fiery red hair—though this was suspected by many of being a wig. She had chosen to wear a black gown tonight, surmounted by a huge winged collar. Her dress was trimmed with clear rock crystal, while heavily-jeweled gold rings drew attention to her long, slender fingers.

  Everyone bowed and curtseyed deeply when she entered the room. Alys copied them, hardly daring to look up, so was shocked to find a servant summoning her. Seconds later, she was next to Kit, trembling by Elizabeth’s feet and doing her utmost to hide her fear.

  While Kit made the formal presentation, she noticed how fondly the queen looked at him.

  Then Bess turned her shrewd grey eyes on Alys. “You have done us a great service, Mistress Barchard. Though justice has not yet been served upon your cousin, I have no doubt she is guilty as charged. Fear not that I hold you in any way to blame for her folly, or that of her friends. From what Sir Christopher has told me of you, you are both honest and sensible—if only there were more in my circle who could boast such attributes. So that everyone may know you have my favor, I give you this to wear.”

  She drew a gold and garnet ring from her finger, and pressed it into Alys’ shaking hand, waving away her stammered gratitude. “I would have some dancing.”

  At the clap of her hands, several gentlemen appeared and bowed before her, but she shooed them away. “Nay, I shall watch for the moment. But it would please me to see Sir Christopher and Mistress Barchard tread a measure together.”

  So, this was what it felt like to be an animal trapped at bay. Alys had no choice but to accept Kit’s hand, even though his touch was a bolt of lightning, searing her flesh. The blood rose in her cheeks, and she prayed the many eyes upon her, including those of the sovereign, had not seen her reaction to him.

  Not daring to look at him, lest he see the awareness in her eyes, she said, “You will find me a very poor partner, sir. I have rarely had the opportunity to dance. Mayhap the queen would understand if you sought another partner.”

  He gazed at her, then called loudly to the gallery, “Minstrels! We would begin with a pavane. With your permission,” he added, bowing deeply to the queen. To Alys, he whispered, “This is a sedate and slow dance. Follow what I do and
keep an eye on the other couples. It’s hard to make a mistake if you follow the tune.”

  Alys’ breathing settled a little as Kit taught her the steps. But only a little. His presence affected her deeply, a queer mixture of pleasure and distress. Yet, to her amazement, she survived the dance without shaming herself—he was a good teacher, and they moved well together. But when the measure came to an end, Kit leaned close. Afraid he was about to whisper something that would upset the balance in favor of distress, she sprang away and crashed into another dancer behind her. Flushing fiercely, she hurried away to find a dark corner.

  But there was to be no respite. Many other gentlemen were eager to make her acquaintance, so she was never in want of a partner. Her most determined admirer was Hubert Norris, an affable fellow who smiled often, his excellent teeth brilliant in contrast to his sun-browned complexion. He introduced himself with undisguised flattery.

  “Greetings, oh brave and beautiful lady! A heroine, i’faith—I am honored to make your acquaintance. I cannot say I have ever met a heroine before. Although your cousin, too, might be considered one. Only in her case, her courage was misplaced.”

  This was so close to what Alys had been thinking herself, she beamed at him. “Aye. I am certain Kate would not have turned traitor without good reason. I’m confident there must have been some coercion.”

  His grin faded, and he brought his face close to hers. “We must keep our voices down. You can’t speak sympathetically of a traitor in the present company, not even if they’re your own kin. Some are so intractable in their views, not even that ring from the queen will protect you.”

  Did he mean Walsingham? Or even Kit? She scanned the room to see where he was and caught him staring at her with a look of fierce annoyance. She stared back, raising a challenging eyebrow. If she wanted to talk to someone who echoed her feelings about Kate, it was none of his business.