by Julia Latham
She didn’t look back as several men exploded with laughter.
Paul found himself laughing with the others, impressed with Juliana’s boldness. He saw Timothy’s relief at his response, and Joseph and Michael exchange a surprised look. Let them wonder about him; he would not prove predictable.
To Timothy, he said, “I believe I should simply alter my carriage to a slouch, rather than use padding. It would be too difficult to don at a moment’s notice.”
Timothy nodded even as his smile faded. “Then you will join us on this mission?”
Paul noticed that Juliana paused in the entrance hall, waiting for his response. Her eyes met his, full of challenge. And much as his curiosity about her was an incentive, she alone was not the only influence on his decision. Nay, the League had been instrumental in aiding his brothers to unmask their parents’ murderer. At last, Adam had been able to reclaim his position as the long lost Earl of Keswick, and the news of that had persuaded Paul that it was time to return home. Paul felt a reluctant debt to the League.
“Aye, for my king and country, I agree to this mission,” Paul said, then coolly added, “but after that, my part in the League will be finished. I threw away my League medallion. I am no longer one of you.”
Juliana caught her breath, and he saw the censure in her eyes, the disappointment. He forgave her the emotions, knowing she didn’t yet realize the truth of the League and its ruthlessness. She felt rescued, valued, when in truth, she was merely another pawn to be used.
The silence was stark and uneasy, but at last, Timothy nodded. Juliana closed the door to the entrance hall behind her. In short order, Paul was introduced to the last two men who would be accompanying them. To his surprise, Sir Roger was an older man, with more than sixty years, grizzled and gray, yet with an unbent body that hinted at a wiry strength.
“He is to be your companion since your youth,” Timothy explained. “He is well versed about the Tower of London, and you can tell the traitors that he’ll be able to give voice to your past, to spiriting you away from London on behalf of King Richard.”
“So Richard supposedly saved me, his namesake nephew?” Paul asked dryly.
“Our enemy will know the truth. But they will want as much evidence as possible to spread word that you’re their prince restored.”
“A good plan,” Paul said, turning to the other man.
He came out of the shadows, and Paul hid his surprise.
“Sir Theobald,” the man said gruffly, briefly bowing his head.
He was as big as Paul himself, a man in his prime—but with a mask tied over the left side of his face, from his blond eyebrow to just above his jaw.
“Sir Theobald will be Juliana’s personal guard,” Timothy said.
Paul silently arched one brow.
“Aye, she’ll be with you much of the time,” he added, smiling. “The two of you will be able to protect each other well. But I don’t want a threat to her used against you.”
Paul looked around at his retinue of guards: Timothy, whose very presence reminded him too much of the past; Joseph, bland and almost pretty, unreadable; Michael, who did not hide his contempt; Roger, old yet eager to prove useful; and Theobald, an enigma, yet the man who would protect Juliana because Paul was not allowed to. Paul found himself clenching his jaw, and forced himself to relax.
Theobald suddenly cocked his head, then went to open the door to the front hall. “Mistress Juliana,” he intoned, as if he were already connected to her in some mystical way. Paul didn’t know anything about Juliana, her relationships with Bladesmen, or if she’d ever found her own home.
Standing nearest to the door, Paul glanced up the hall staircase—and froze. A sultry, earthy woman was coming down the last few stairs, gowned in brilliant blue, hips swaying, lush breasts molded for display.
Juliana.
She met his gaze, her black eyes knowing and sensual. Her dark hair tumbled to mid back, caressed her shoulders, softly touched her breasts. As she came toward him, he knew that he could never think of her again as boyish. She’d become a dazzling woman.
He wasn’t the only man to gape. Several mouths were open, brows lifted in shock. Not Timothy though, who looked resigned and proud at the same time.
Juliana didn’t stop until she practically wound herself about Paul, leaning her tall, curved body into his, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, the other resting familiarly on his chest. She felt warm and smelled delicious, of garden flowers just closing with the onset of night.
Now she’d turned him into a poet, he thought, bemused.
She fluttered her dark eyelashes at him, then murmured, “Now who has the most talent at deception?”
“Brat.” He gave her a crooked grin. Juliana was more of a woman than he’d given her credit for; there was experience and confidence in her gaze.
For a moment, he drew her against him, up onto her toes, their mouths close to each other. Her eyes widened, but she remained pliable, languorous. He let his gaze promise pleasure—and sin.
Then he released her and resumed his impassivity as he looked at Timothy. “I can pretend to be attracted to her,” he said dryly.
Her demeanor changed, as if he’d blown out a candle. She appeared as an attractive woman now, not a sensual enchantress. He couldn’t help wondering how innocent she really was, living alone with men.
Timothy rubbed his hands together. “All is being prepared as we speak. We will leave in two days’ time. Paul, you will briefly display yourself tomorrow for the merchants on the London Bridge. Then our man within the Yorkist camp will begin whispering of an arrival from a mysterious Englishman who’s been living in Europe. The Bladesmen bringing word to him will casually spread the news in the countryside as well.”
“You already have a man inside?” Paul asked.
“Aye, with one northern household, but he is not privy to secret conversations. And we are not certain which of the Yorkists will be greedy enough to foment a new rebellion so quickly after the last one failed.” Timothy turned to Juliana. “You may change while I speak with Paul alone.”
As the chamber slowly cleared, Paul watched her walk away. But the undulation of her hips was gone, and she strode with brisk purpose—like a man. But at least he would soon be treated to more of her hidden femininity.
When they were alone, he faced Timothy impassively. “What else do you want from me? I’ve already agreed to participate.”
“Can I not simply be glad to see you, my son?” Timothy’s smile was fatherly, and it made Paul uneasy. “I think you only want to ease things between us, so that your mission will run smoothly.”
“That’s not true, Paul. I’ve been worried about you. You never sent word to me or to your brothers about what you were doing, how you fared.”
“Surely you used the League to keep track of me.”
Timothy pressed his lips together. “Can I not be concerned?”
“If you were so concerned about me and my brothers, you would have raised us yourself.”
“Paul, you know the danger you were once under. Your parents’ murder in their own bedchamber was brutal—”
“You need not remind me. Adam overheard it, saw their slaughtered bodies, lived with nightmares. And he had but six years!”
“We knew not the reason your parents died so cruelly,” Timothy said, his voice firm and controlled. “Adam was the heir to a vast holding. I could not protect the three of you as your father would have wanted. I made the decision that I thought best, bringing you boys with me to the League, so that I could know you were safe, and watch over you myself.”
“Not your finest hour, Father.”
Timothy flinched. “I agree. There are things I would change, if I could.”
“But you cannot. Your devotion to them was such that you didn’t even take a wife.”
“Their causes are just, Paul. You cannot refute that. Nothing excuses me in your eyes, nor should it. I believed myself unworthy to act
as your father, that I should have no voice in the hiding of such an heir as Keswick. I made grievous mistakes, but I cannot change the past. I feared for your brother Adam, so obsessed was he with a murderer. I worried about Robert, too carefree, almost losing what was important to him. And now you.”
“I do not want your worry. ‘Tis baseless.”
“I worry that bitterness has distorted you. You have always been driven, ambitious, curious about the world.
Did you let yourself enjoy it, or did you constantly think of the past?”
“I have lived a good life away from the League, even as I missed my brothers.”
“Glad I am to hear that,” Timothy said, letting his breath out on a sigh.
“But I never forgot what you allowed the League to do to us?what you allowed the League to do to another family.”
Timothy went still. “What are you saying?”
“Aye, I was curious. I made it a point to listen in on the private sessions of the Council of Elders.”
“That could have put you in grave danger,” Timothy said softly, looking over his shoulder as if someone might overhear them.
“I was not a traitor; I simply needed to know about these men who ran my life and set themselves up to judge other men, administering justice or punishment as they arbitrarily saw fit.”
“Paul—”
“I know the Council deliberately destroyed a man’s reputation and family, all to advance one of their missions.”
Timothy’s eyes narrowed. “What else did you hear?”
“Not enough to confront anyone, so do not concern yourself. The mission was apparently over and had been a success. Another traitor against the Crown identified.
And the only person who had to suffer was one man, his reputation, and then his very life. And you were there.”
With a sigh, Timothy said, “You know ‘tis not permitted to discuss assignments not our own. But let me say this.” He raised his voice to dissuade Paul’s protest. “You don’t know everything, and yet you feel free to judge in the same way for which you condemn the League.”
Paul stiffened. “I have enough evidence to satisfy me, the words of the Councilors themselves. The League may do good throughout the land, but there can also be a whiff of evil, when some men think they are accountable to no one.”
“We are accountable to one another, and it has served to check any grasp for power. But we are not infallible.”
“My brothers and I are the proof,” Paul said, feeling suddenly weary. “And before you ask, I never told them a word of what I heard.”
Timothy’s eyes widened. “Why not? You wanted to be free of the League, and you could have had the company of your brothers.”
“Nay, it would not have been that way. Adam was honored to be chosen from childhood for the League.”
“Trust me, he knows the League has failings.”
“Perhaps, but then … nay, ‘twould have hurt him, and I couldn’t do that. He had his own path to follow. And Robert … I am glad he has since found his way, but then, he was always eager to enjoy himself. He did not crave the life I did, the adventure of making my own way.”
“Perhaps you acted as more of a father to your brothers than I did,” Timothy said softly.
Paul frowned. “I didn’t return to argue with you. I owe the League a debt, and will repay it. But do not bother pursuing forgiveness from me.”
Timothy nodded, his expression as tired-looking as Paul felt. “Very well. For this assignment, we will be as fellow Bladesmen only.”
Paul opened the door leading to the front hall. “Send for me when you need me. I’ll pack my things.”
“You will not need much in the way of garments. They will be provided for you.”
“Something extravagant, I imagine.”
“As befits a prince.”
Paul nodded and went out through the door. He looked over his shoulder briefly, but Juliana was not standing at the top of the stairs. He’d only imagined it.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Juliana was sent to bring Paul to the League house. She rode her horse through Ludgate, the ancient western gateway to the city, and down Fleet Street until it became the Strand, following the Thames. Cramped houses gave way to palaces along the road to Westminster, each with its own access to the river.
She allowed her horse to walk, feeling no great urgency. It was early yet, and the heavy traffic of horses and carts, people and wagons streamed past her in the opposite direction to enter the city, not leave it.
This was her last day as herself. With her hair pulled back from her face, wearing a simple belted tunic, breeches, and a man’s hat, she attracted no notice. Most thought her only a boy about his master’s business. She liked giving people a different impression of herself, a skill she’d well mastered in her training, if Paul’s expression yesterday was any proof.
At first she’d been full of triumph that she’d caused him to be momentarily speechless. The other men had been struck dumb as well, and she hadn’t liked that so much. She’d spent the past few years convincing them all that she was one of them, a talented recruit, more a Bladesman than Bladeswoman. No one had ever insisted she hide her sex; she’d simply felt she could do her work more effectively when unnoticed. She’d been trained to be a woman, even a sexually knowledgeable one, but seldom felt like one. It was only a part she played, not the real Juliana.
Of course she’d dressed as a woman on past missions, but nothing so openly carnal and sensual. It had felt awkward to inspire men’s lust, though she hadn’t shown that revelation to her fellow Bladesmen. She had no need to wonder what they thought of her. Her dedication was understood. She would take this new part in stride, playact and pretend to be one thing on the surface, and remain herself beneath.
At last she reached Keswick House, home of Paul’s brother, the earl. High walls surrounded the courtyard, but inside was a palace of windows cut into ancient walls. She knew the true beauty of the house would be facing the Thames, the main thoroughfare into London.
A servant gestured her into the entrance hall, with its dark paneling and display of the Keswick coat of arms. She expected to be led to Paul immediately, but instead was shown into a withdrawing chamber furnished with a large table and enough chairs to seat thirty people. She didn’t think the servant even noticed that the chamber was occupied. Juliana stood awkwardly by the door and waited. Two women stood at one of the cupboards, putting away golden plate. Both were of much shorter stature than Juliana herself. One had brown hair, and moved with a limp as she stepped behind the other for another plate. The second woman’s hair was a mass of red curls in the August heat, and freckles dotted her face.
They glanced at her and hesitated. Juliana wondered why she’d been shown into a chamber where servants were busy working, but she did not ask questions.
They must have thought she couldn’t hear them, because one murmured to the other, “Paul felt certain they’d send a lady to fetch him.”
“He did say he was looking forward to it.”
These women called him by his Christian name; they could not be servants.
She swept her hat from her head and stepped forward. “My ladies, I am Mistress Juliana, come for Sir Paul, as he surmised.”
They froze, a plate half passed between them. Then the brown-haired one giggled, even as she set down the plate and wiped her hands on an apron. It was then that Juliana noticed the faint rounding of pregnancy.
“Mistress Juliana, do forgive me. Your appearance deceived me.”
“‘Tis that way often,” Juliana said ruefully.
“I am Lady Keswick, but do call me Florrie. I’ll call you by your Christian name as well.”
Shocked that she’d been so rude to the countess, Juliana sank into a curtsy that would have done her mother proud. “My lady, forgive my discourtesy.” She knew Lady Keswick was of high birth, the daughter of a marquess.
Lady Keswick reached for her hands and made her straig
hten. “Good heavens, Juliana, do not worry yourself. It seems we all misread each other. Do allow me to introduce my new sister by marriage, Mistress Sarah Hilliard.”
The redheaded woman grinned and openly looked Juliana up and down. “So you’re the lady Paul mentioned.”
Juliana glanced down at her garments. “It may seem difficult to believe it at the moment, but aye, ‘tis true.”
“Congratulations on being a member of the League,” Lady Keswick said, her voice full of admiration.
Juliana’s smile died a quick death. They knew?
“Oh dear, you know we shouldn’t speak such things aloud,” Mistress Hilliard murmured, nudging her ladyship with her elbow.
“But …” Juliana began haltingly, “your husbands should never have—” Then she broke off, realizing she was speaking of an earl.
“They had no choice but to tell us their secrets,” Lady Keswick said apologetically.
“Because we had no choice,” Mistress Hilliard added.
“Forgive me, but I do not understand.”
Lady Keswick smiled. “You see, I first met my husband, Adam, when he kidnapped me.”
Juliana blinked in surprise.
Mistress Hilliard said, “And I met Robert when he was assigned by the League to prove me a murderess.” She grinned. “And how are you connected with the Hilliard brothers?”
“I’m to be Paul’s concubine,” Juliana said, beginning to smile. “Although in truth, I will be his personal guard.”
The two women looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Oh, Juliana,” Lady Keswick said, wiping her eyes, “our men are never dull. I do not yet know Paul as a brother, but I cannot imagine he took the news well.”
“That I would guard him? Nay, he did not.” Juliana felt a stirring of anger again at his assumption that a woman couldn’t guard him, but put it aside.
“Come into the kitchens with us,” Mistress Hilliard said.
She took Juliana’s arm on one side, and Lady Keswick took the other.
“You can tell us about our husbands’ brother,” Mistress Hilliard continued. “You knew him for several months, I hear, where we have only known him for several days.”
