Laura Andersen - [Ann Boleyn 01]

by The Boleyn King

  She picked up her pen once more and turned back to her work. “And all the better for Will. If he is content with a woman like Eleanor, then he is unlikely to ever do anything so disastrous as fall in love.”

  William was relieved to be at Whitehall—away from Dover and his uncle’s black mood and constant arguments about Henri’s intentions. For three weeks Rochford had kept William busy from dawn to dusk with discussions of policy and the implications of the upcoming treaty. Now that the treaty appeared lost, William knew there would be continued debate by a council that seemed more anxious to talk than to act. He was prepared to endure a great deal of boredom in the coming days.

  But not today. He had flatly refused to meet in council again until tomorrow, reasoning that they were all tired and would do better after a day or two of rest. Somewhat surprisingly, Rochford had agreed and William had enjoyed an afternoon of doing not much of anything—reading, gambling with some of his gentlemen—while his mind danced to Eleanor. The last three weeks of separation had only burnished her allure. Give her one night with her husband, and then she would be all his.

  As he considered it, William felt a twinge that he smothered with righteous argument. He was doing nothing that had not been done a hundred times before by kings long dead—his own father’s first acknowledged son had been borne by a woman married to someone else. (He had never known his half brother; Henry FitzRoy had died the month after William’s own birth.) And it wasn’t as though Giles Howard were being secretly cuckolded. He knew the price of his return to royal favor.

  When Dominic entered the privy chamber, William brightened and waved off everyone else. Weeks of tension had left their mark in the lines etched around Dominic’s eyes. Shadowing Rochford couldn’t be an easy task when the Lord Protector was in a rage.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Dominic demanded, in a tone reminiscent of William’s mother.

  “Tell you what?”

  “That Giles Howard is back at court—and being given a lavish wedding at your expense.”

  “It was hardly a secret. I assumed you knew.”

  “If I had known, I would have stopped it.”

  William gave a short laugh. “This marriage has nothing to do with you, Dom. Why do you care?”

  “Have you forgotten what he did to Minuette?”

  Why was it that Dominic could so easily make him defensive? “I have not forgotten.”

  “Then why …” Dominic searched him with probing eyes.

  He forced himself to look steadily back, knowing that Dominic could read him almost as easily as Elizabeth did.

  At last Dominic shook his head. “Neatly done. Tell me, does Howard know the price of his return?”

  “He’s pleased with his advancement. And I imagine he’ll be kept busy administering affairs on his new estates in Cumberland.”

  “While his wife remains in Lady Rochford’s service.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Have you given any thought to the lady, beyond what you desire?”

  William hovered on the point of real anger before shrugging it off. “I assure you, Eleanor is quite content with the arrangement. No matter how long she … however long we … she will be the daughter-in-law of one of the premier dukes in England. It’s more than her family ever dreamed.”

  But Dominic placed the matter in more candid terms. “You mean she’s willing to sell herself for her family’s sake.”

  Exasperated, William stood up ready to pace. “If you think I’ve bought Eleanor, you’re mistaken. She is no innocent and she needed no inducements. Eleanor’s only virtue is devotion to her own interests. Not the quality I would wish in a wife, but she will do nicely for now.”

  He put his hands on Dominic’s shoulders and noted with satisfaction that their eyes were at last level. “Tonight is for pleasure, Dom. Get some sleep and then come dance with the bride. You’ve kept to yourself too much these last months. Find a woman—that’s what you need.”

  Dominic attended the wedding as William had bidden him, but he did not dance with the bride. Arms crossed, he leaned against the linenfold paneling that adorned the walls of the chamber and considered the spectacle playing out before him.

  It seemed that William had been right. Eleanor Percy—Eleanor Howard, now—looked remarkably content. She behaved impeccably toward her new husband and even coaxed the old Duke of Norfolk into dancing with her. Giles, dressed in the gaudiest bright blue doublet Dominic had ever seen, preened as he watched his wife and father. But before long his eyes wandered, and Dominic’s chest constricted when Giles’s hungry gaze lit on Minuette and stayed there.

  She sparkled in a gown of shimmery shades of pink and white, deep in conversation with a young man Dominic did not recognize. Perhaps more than conversation, he thought. Her smile, the way she lowered her lashes demurely, the silver of laughter … Minuette was flirting. And Dominic was not the only one to notice. Every man within eyesight seemed to subtly orient himself to her.

  He had seen this sort of feminine power before—despite her age, Queen Anne could still command any room of men she chose. It seemed Minuette had learnt more from the queen than just dancing and diplomacy.

  Flirting is part of diplomacy, he told himself, but his feet did not listen. He strode to Minuette and interrupted with only the barest attempt at civility. “If I might have a word?”

  With surprised pleasure, she said, “Dominic, may I introduce Jonathan Percy? And this is Dominic Courtenay.”

  Jonathan started to stumble out a greeting, but Dominic cut him short with a nod and an abrupt “Excuse us.”

  He steered Minuette by the elbow to a window embrasure where they could be somewhat private. “What’s happened?” Minuette sounded genuinely worried.

  Instantly he felt foolish. “I just … I wondered if you had made any progress amongst the queen’s ladies. Any information about Alyce de Clare that might help us?”

  “That’s why you dragged me away from poor Jonathan? You were really quite rude.”

  “Was I?” For the first time, Dominic registered the young man’s surname. “Percy—is he a relative of the bride?”

  Minuette sniffed. “He and Eleanor are twins. Though one would never guess—Jonathan is quite cultured. He’s a musician, currently with the Bishop of Winchester. I think I’ll ask William to bring him to court.”

  It seemed she was as unhappy with this marriage as Dominic. Because of William’s willingness to let Giles return to court so soon?

  They both looked round as the music stopped. But William immediately clapped for more and went straight to Eleanor, standing next to her new husband. William did not even ask—simply took possession of her hand. Then the music struck up and they were dancing.

  In spite of himself, Dominic was impressed by Giles Howard’s self-control. Only a flicker of his eyes betrayed possible discomfort. Whatever he had agreed to—unspoken or not—it could not be pleasant to stand by and watch your wife smiling radiantly in another man’s arms.

  Dominic knew this was as close as William would come to publicly shaming Howard. Affairs in the English court were conducted circumspectly; gossip might run riot, but the only ones who would know for certain where Eleanor spent her nights were the gentlemen who escorted her to the king and then stood guard outside the door. For once Dominic was heartily relieved to be working for Rochford—there was no way he meant to stand twenty feet away while William bedded any woman.

  Though Dominic had not been precisely celibate in the last two years, campaigning left little enough time for dalliance, and Rochford now drove him with an intensity that left no energy for anything else. When he wasn’t attending the Lord Protector, he was studying foreign affairs and the history of English diplomacy. In truth, watching Rochford work was the greatest tutorial. It had been a revelation to see what could be accomplished with the raise of an eyebrow, a few judicious words, and an occasional veiled threat.

  “She is very lovely.” Minuette’s voice made him ju
mp. Her gaze was fixed on William and Eleanor. “I imagine he’ll be happy with her.”

  Dominic turned sharp eyes to her, wondering which “he” she meant. Surely she didn’t realize … surely she did. The entire court knew what was being enacted here tonight.

  Before he could think how to change the subject, Minuette did it for him. “I have been speaking to the queen’s ladies, but they have told me nothing I did not already know about Alyce. It’s just that I didn’t want to know some of it.”

  Since a dead woman seemed a safer subject just now than a living one, Dominic asked, “What do you know?”

  “That she was ambitious, and poor, and not in the least sentimental. She used to laugh whenever I would talk about love or even kindness. ‘No one marries for love,’ she’d tell me. ‘That’s just a story we tell ourselves to cover our own natures.’ ”

  Dominic didn’t ask if Alyce was ambitious and poor enough to be bought—clearly she had been. “So how did a woman so hardheaded fall pregnant?”

  “Perhaps she knew herself less well than she thought,” Minuette said. “Perhaps she was surprised by love. She may have been reckless—but she could never be stupid. Whatever she did, she did it knowingly.”

  “Any idea with whom?”

  She shook her head and smiled ruefully. “I could have sworn that she didn’t look twice at any man. But then, I could have sworn that I would never again be in the same room with Giles Howard.”

  “Minuette—”

  “And when shall we be dancing at your wedding, Dominic?”

  The abrupt change of subject left him floundering. “What wedding?”

  “I hear the women talking. You have only to look around you to find any number of willing brides.”

  Unable to bear her direct and unsuspicious gaze, he looked over her head to the painting of Henry VII hanging behind her. The miserly face of William’s grandfather helped him speak sparingly. “I’m sure you’re wrong. I’ve nothing to recommend me but the rather precarious gift of royal favor. No title, no land, nothing but the king’s goodwill.”

  Her voice was untroubled. “I think the recommendation of your person is quite enough for any lady. And if marriage isn’t to your liking, it isn’t necessarily required.”

  Startled into looking at her again, he saw that she was staring at Giles Howard. “Never mind me.” She waved a hand and turned toward him. “You are a favorite amongst the ladies. That is all I meant.”

  Dominic smiled slightly. “It’s kind of you to say. However, with the treaty in shambles, I expect at any moment to be sent off and who knows when I’ll return. Now is not the time to begin an affair of the heart.”

  It was an eminently practical and reasonable answer and Minuette accepted it with a nod. As Dominic watched the rise and fall of her breathing beneath the star pendant she wore almost continually, he repeated it silently to himself. Now is not the time.

  The morning after Eleanor’s wedding, Elizabeth summoned Dominic to attend her and Minuette riding. Though there were also grooms in attendance, the three of them could converse with much less chance of being overheard while on horseback.

  Once they were well away into the fields, Dominic asked, “Is this simply checking in or do you have something definite to report?”

  “Nothing definite, just hints of provocation. Mary has increased her letters to the emperor—sometimes three a week. And her household is seeing an increase in visitors.”

  “I’ve heard,” Dominic said. “Rochford keeps telling Will he should tighten his control of her household. But I’m not convinced Lady Mary has anything to do with Alyce and the broadsheet. It was a man who fathered Alyce’s child and wrote those letters.”

  “But a man working for whom? This was not an idle game. You said yourself there was purpose behind it. And I doubt that purpose was so inconsequential as ruining Alyce.”

  “She’s not ruined,” Minuette said sharply. “She is dead.”

  “I know,” Elizabeth sighed. “But that broadside and its slogan argue a political purpose. There is only one group who wants my brother gone—the Catholics. And the Catholics look to Mary. She may not have known particulars, but wherever there is smoke, there is Mary as the tinder.”

  Minuette interrupted. “Dominic, why don’t you have Lord Rochford send you to question Mary? Surely he would do it if you asked.”

  “And if I asked, he would want to know why I am suspicious. Aren’t we meant to keep this secret?”

  “So we are, which makes my next move all the better. No one could ever suspect an ulterior motive.”

  “An ulterior motive to what?” Elizabeth asked warily.

  “I’ve been writing to Alyce’s sister. Emma de Clare married a gentleman farmer named Hadley about the time Alyce came to court. It was Emma that Alyce would visit whenever she had leave.”

  “Do you think Emma knew her secrets?” Elizabeth asked.

  “It’s not the sort of thing one can ask in letter without rousing suspicion: ‘Do you know whom your sister was sleeping with? And might it be the same person who asked her to spy on the queen? Oh, and are you secret Catholic sympathizers, by the way?’ ”

  Dominic pulled his horse to a halt, and Elizabeth followed suit. Minuette kept going for a dozen paces before she swung Winterfall’s head round and walked the horse back to them. “What?”

  “What,” Elizabeth enunciated carefully, “is your plan?”

  “Didn’t I say? Emma has extended an invitation to her home. She would like to speak in person to ‘one who knew my sister well’ these last years. William has given me leave to go.”

  “William has given you leave?” Elizabeth let her annoyance leak out. “You are a member of my household.”

  “And you would never say no to me.” Minuette smiled triumphantly, then heeled Winterfall round and gave the horse her head. “Try and catch me,” she called over her shoulder.

  Elizabeth grumbled, “Why does this feel so familiar—Minuette and Will doing whatever comes into their heads while you and I pick up the pieces afterward? I’m going to have to learn to say no to her before she does something irredeemably reckless.”

  “She’s not reckless. Just … willful,” Dominic said. “And you’re not the one who needs to say no to her.”

  He kicked his horse into motion and Elizabeth followed suit, foreboding playing along her nerves.

  Two days after Eleanor’s wedding, William sat in his privy chamber with his grim-faced uncle waiting for Dominic to arrive. He had been pulled out of the most private of his bedchambers at midnight—from Eleanor’s arms—straight to an emergency session of the regency council.

  The treaty with France was indeed lost. Earlier this evening, the French ambassador had finally deigned to wait upon the Lord Protector and inform him that King Henri’s brother, lately betrothed to Elizabeth, had married the niece of the Holy Roman Emperor. England’s greatest fear had come true—France was allying itself with Spain.

  Rochford had proposed sending a delegation straight to the Netherlands in response. If the Catholics were aligning themselves against England, then it was in England’s best interest to come out in open alliance with the Protestant nations of Europe. The Duke of Norfolk debated the idea—more for form’s sake than because he really disagreed, William thought—but in the end, the vote was unanimous. Not that it mattered. Rochford’s vote was the one that counted.

  But William was king, and it was his voice that had given the order for Lord Sussex to head a delegation to the Queen of the Netherlands and open negotiations for a formal treaty.

  William had risen with relief as the council departed, anxious to return to Eleanor.

  But his uncle had stayed him and sent a page to summon Dominic. As Rochford seemed disinclined to explain himself, William sat in silence and let his mind wander away from the tangle of European politics.

  Eleanor was everything he’d hoped for. She had proven that she could read his moods and knew instinctively how to meet each
one—soothing when he was angry, sympathetic when he was tired, and playful when he was eager. And he had not misremembered her skill in bed. What more could he want?

  When Dominic entered the room, he looked straight at his king and William had the disconcerting sense that Dom could see right into his thoughts. He didn’t know why that bothered him. Dominic was five years older and had certainly enjoyed any number of women.

  Rochford was terse even for him. “Courtenay, I need you ready to ride in an hour. There’s a ship at Dover ready to weigh anchor on tomorrow’s tides. You are to tell no one where you are going.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “France.”

  Dominic didn’t look particularly surprised. “Shouldn’t you be sending a larger delegation?”

  “I’m not hoping for a treaty from this. I’m hoping for … insight.”

  “You want a spy.”

  “I want an envoy.”

  The two men stared at each other until William grew impatient and broke in. “For heaven’s sake, sit down, Dom.”

  He took over the explaining, trusting his uncle to interrupt him if he got any of it wrong. He knew he wouldn’t. “A delegation will leave within the week for the Netherlands. We can’t afford to overlook obvious avenues of alliance. And I don’t mind putting pressure on Henri. He thinks he can overawe me because I’m young. This is a bluff—Henri doesn’t want war. All we have to do is show him that his best interests lie in a treaty with England.”

  “And how am I supposed to accomplish that?” Dominic asked with pardonable skepticism.

  Rochford took over. “You aren’t. I am. I need you at Henri’s court to give me eyes and ears into the situation so that I will know where and when to apply pressure.”

  “He will suspect that.”

  “Of course he will. It doesn’t matter. This is a game, Courtenay, and you’re a pawn at the moment. Go where you’re told and leave matters requiring intelligence to the masters.”

  Dominic nodded and rose. “Within the hour? I’d better pack.”