Game of Spies

by Pamela Mingle

  The ladies spoke often of French fashions, hair styles, and life at court. Isabel usually paid scant attention, but one afternoon when she heard the phrase membre viril, she sat up and took notice. The ladies were discussing the size of a certain male part, even arguing over who possessed the most formidable attributes. In this way, the fact that Gavin hadn’t bedded any of them was revealed. They could only speculate as to his…part. Did it resemble a pickle, a sausage, or was it shaped more like an artichoke, as the bishop’s was?

  An artichoke? At that point, Isabel grabbed Bisou and hurried outside. As soon as she reached the garden, she whooped with laughter while the little dog jumped about her feet, yipping, as though he wanted in on the joke. She recalled a time she’d seen her brothers swimming naked, coming upon them by accident one day when they’d been in their teens. Several other boys had been there too, and nobody’s breeding organ had resembled an artichoke.

  “It is good to see you laughing, Isabel.” Gavin appeared out of nowhere.

  “Bonjour, Gavin.” She couldn’t contain herself, because the very sight of him reminded her of the subject at hand. So she kept right on howling with mirth. He waited patiently, and at last, her laughter petered out. She felt like a simpleton. “Forgive me. I do not usually lose control of myself.”

  “Would you care to let me in on the joke?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Nay. I couldn’t.”

  “I won’t press you. Come, let’s sit on the bench. There won’t be many more days as fine as this.”

  When they were seated, Isabel lifted Bisou onto her lap. “You have made a friend, I think,” Gavin said.

  “Aye, a worthy one. He has such sad eyes, but I’ve decided this is a characteristic of the breed. What would he have to be sad about—he is so pampered by the queen.”

  Gavin chuckled. “And you.” He scratched the dog’s ears, then said, “I have wondered since your arrival at Tutbury, Bel. Why did Lady Shrewsbury choose you to be part of Mary’s circle?”

  Isabel had pondered this herself, and still couldn’t decide if she was glad or sorry Lady Shrewsbury had appeared at her door that day. “In truth, I’m not certain. Her sons knew my brothers, and she said they had given good reports of me. She seemed in a great hurry to choose someone and was impatient when I asked questions about my role here.”

  “And the matter was settled forthwith?”

  “Aye, on that very day.” Why was Gavin so curious about this? What was it to him? Perhaps he thought her completely unsuited to the position. “Is there a reason you are asking me about this? Do you think Lady Shrewsbury made a poor decision?”

  He turned and grasped her by the arms. His big, warm hands sent shivers through her. “Nay. She was very wise in choosing you. But it has been hard on you, Bel.” His blue eyes studied her, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Then, suddenly, he dropped his hands and a sheepish look stole over his face. “Are the other women treating you kindlier?”

  “Nay. But they are more circumspect about their jibes. Mary, and sometimes Lady Shrewsbury, admonish them to cease. Or glower at them. Usually, they speak French and assume I don’t understand.”

  “You’re still keeping that a secret?”

  “Oui! It is the one thing that makes me feel…powerful. Although sometimes they say things about me I would prefer not to hear. Other times, they make me laugh excessively. Like today.”

  “Still won’t share what was so funny?”

  Isabel thought about it. What harm could it do to tell him? A modified version, anyway. “They were discussing the…appearance of male…organs. Comparing them.”

  “By the Virgin, they did not mention my, ah, organ, did they?” Gavin asked.

  She couldn’t resist having a little fun with him. “Well…”

  He leaped to his feet and paced away from her, then swiveled back, looking furious. “Those scheming little liars. I’ve not bedded any of them!”

  “And they are not so happy about that. They were speculating…”

  “God’s teeth. You knew the truth. Now you’ve embarrassed me, and I do not embarrass easily.”

  Isabel giggled. “You asked.”

  He rose and looked askance at her. “My mistake. You must be shocked by their boldness.”

  “No longer. The second day I was here—the day of the tennis match—Mary asked me to rouse the ladies. I knocked on one of the chamber doors, looked in, and found John Lesley in bed with two of them.”

  Gavin let out a loud bark of laughter. “What did you do?”

  Bel grimaced at the memory. “I covered my eyes, delivered the message, and backed out of the room. But not before they asked if I wanted to join them.”

  Gavin’s eyes sparked with amusement. “I suppose you would not share the names of the—”

  “No, I would not. I’ll say only one thing. Frances was not one of them. I trust you will be discreet about this?”

  He laid a hand over his heart. “I vow I’ll tell no living soul. Other than Blake and the earl.”

  “Gavin! You wouldn’t.”

  He grinned, the scoundrel. “Of course not. I’m teasing you. But do let me know if you wish to engage in such bed sport. I’m sure I can arrange something.”

  Isabel sprang to her feet. “I should not have told you. Now you will mock me like the others.” She began walking back toward the castle, but Gavin stopped her, grasping her wrist.

  “Pray don’t go, Bel. Forgive me. I won’t mention it again. I would never mock you.”

  His expression was so earnest, she believed him. They remained in the garden a while longer, until the air began to cool, and Isabel realized she’d been absent a long time. Gavin drew her arm through his and accompanied her back inside.

  …

  Walking at a leisurely pace toward his suite, Gavin thought about Isabel. He’d been wise to hold her at arm’s length. Every time he allowed himself to talk to her, spend time in her company, he regretted it. Because he was undeniably attracted to her. Not just to her body, although his cock stiffened whenever he thought of unwrapping the layers of clothing hiding her curves. After spending time with her, he felt more alive. She was a beacon of light in this desolate place.

  Perhaps Lady Shrewsbury had also seen something special in Isabel. In truth, she was not suited to the demands of a lady-in-waiting, which must have been clear to Bess. She was a perceptive woman and would have seen that Bel was unsophisticated in the extreme. And yet she chose her. Mayhap it was simply expedient.

  To get his mind off Isabel, Gavin badly needed to bed someone. Perhaps he could ride to Derby, spend a night there. Otherwise, he might be in danger of succumbing to one of the ladies-in-waiting, or worse yet, allowing himself to become involved with Isabel. Women were not to be trusted, and therefore, giving his heart to Bel was out of the question.

  After his wife, Anna, had died in childbirth, Gavin found a letter she’d left for him in a coffer secreted in her wardrobe. In it, she revealed he wasn’t the father of the babe she had born, a son, who had died shortly after his birth. Around the time of the child’s conception, Gavin had been away a good deal for the family business, once for an entire month. So it was certainly possible, even likely. Anna had named the swine who’d cuckolded him, one William Samuelson. Gavin found out what he could about the man, who was in the employ of the Earl of Westmoreland, and had considered seeking him out. But he’d quickly discarded the idea. Had the child survived, he’d have felt an obligation. But under the circumstances, it would have served no purpose.

  A hand at his elbow wrenched him from his memories. “A word, Cade,” a voice said. It was John Lesley.

  Gavin jerked his arm away but did not break his stride. “You have my attention, Bishop. What do you want?”

  “You have some influence with Shrewsbury. Can’t you convince him to grant the queen more time out of doors? She suffers from lack of fresh air and exercise.”

  Gavin had heard that the queen was an a
vid rider and once had loved hunting and hawking. She did seem to be suffering from ill health, often taking to her bed for one complaint or another. Her continual confinement would be hard to bear.

  Lesley spoke again. “Her humors are out of balance, Cade. She is melancholic, signifying an excess of black bile. Some days it is difficult for her to rise from her bed.” The man’s voice had morphed into a whine.

  “I’ll speak to the earl. But it is entirely his decision,” Gavin said.

  “Understood. I believe you have more sway with him than anybody else.”

  “Indeed?” Gavin drawled.

  Lesley looked at Gavin with narrowed eyes. “Aye. You know you do. You are an astute observer of both people and events, and I have wondered what your true purpose here is.”

  “I am equerry to the earl. My purpose is to serve him in whatever way he requires. Most of the time that means ensuring the castle runs as smoothly as possible, so that nothing distracts him from his work for the queen.”

  “Ah. You refer to the other queen. Elizabeth.”

  “Aye. That one.” Gavin glowered down at Lesley, who was not a tall man. “I’ve work to do and must see to it. I will speak to Shrewsbury.”

  “I thank you. I travel to London tomorrow, returning in a sennight.”

  “Safe journey,” Gavin said, and strode away.

  After a cursory glance at the papers on his desk, Gavin concluded there was nothing worth his interest. Perhaps he’d see if Shrewsbury was available. He made his way to the earl’s office and rapped on the door.

  “Come.”

  Gavin entered and studied the man while he dipped his quill and completed the sentence he’d been composing. George Talbot, the Earl of Shrewsbury, and his wife Bess had been Mary’s keepers for a year, having been appointed to the position by Queen Elizabeth. Gavin had only met him a little over a month ago, but Shrewsbury made no secret of the fact he considered the job a great burden. He kept a beautifully bound copy of Morison’s Exhortation on his desk, perhaps as a reminder that Englishmen should always rally round their monarch.

  “Good evening, Cade. Is anything amiss?”

  “Not at all, my lord. I merely wish to pass on a request from the good bishop.”

  Shrewsbury shared Gavin’s opinion of Lesley. He snorted and his brows shot up, traveling halfway up his high forehead. He claimed he was losing his hair because of Mary. “What is it now?” Dropping his quill, he leaned back in his chair and focused his attention on Gavin.

  “He believes Mary is deprived of fresh air and exercise and is melancholic because of it.”

  “I have heard that before.” He gestured to the other chair. “Be seated, Gavin.”

  When Gavin was settled, he said, “He has a point, sir. I hate to agree with anything he says, but Mary does suffer from many complaints. An outing a few times a week would do her good and may thwart any escape plots.”

  The earl ran a hand through the hair he still possessed. “I suppose you have a point. But she would need to be closely guarded.”

  “Her guards would accompany her, of course. Blake and I as well. She won’t like that, but if she wishes to take the air, that is the way it must be.”

  Shrewsbury rose and went to the mullioned window. Looking out at the wooded slopes, he said, “Do you have something in mind?”

  Gavin shrugged. “While the fine weather holds, Mary and her ladies might enjoy an excursion to the river. We could take hampers of food and eat along the banks.”

  “God’s teeth, let’s not make this an all-day affair!”

  “No, no, a couple of hours should suffice.” Gavin paused. He didn’t want to press his luck but forged ahead anyway. “In my opinion, sir, we should allow Mary access to nature regularly.”

  The earl heaved a sigh. “That woman is going to be the death of me. The money it takes to maintain her extravagant way of life! Crystal glassware. Gold plate. Tapestries, chandeliers, her four-course meals. And Elizabeth grants me the paltriest stipend—the rest comes from my own pocket.”

  “At least you reduced the size of her retinue when you moved her to Tutbury,” Gavin said, trying to forestall more complaining. “That has helped to some degree.”

  Shrewsbury swiveled around and resumed his seat. Voice lowered, he said, “It seems we’re making little progress in the Ridolfi matter. I assume you’ve learned nothing new since Lesley’s mention of him in the conversation you overheard.”

  “If something is afoot, it’s moving slowly. But Lesley did tell Mary that Ridolfi was someone they would be able to rely on—a man with connections. Since Lesley is traveling to London, his purpose may be to set things in motion.”

  “A meeting with our dear friend, the Duke of Norfolk, perhaps? It’s possible.”

  “He’ll be back in a sennight and then, with any luck, we’ll find out more.” Gavin got to his feet, having achieved his ends. “I’ll inform the ladies and the cook of the outing. I’d like to do it in the next few days, before the bishop returns from London. And while the weather remains fine.”

  The earl was squeezing and releasing his folded hands, but looked up. “Do your worst.”

  Chapter Seven

  One morning, when Mary was suffering from a gastric ailment, she summoned Isabel to her private chamber. It was as sumptuous as the outer hall, boasting a tester bed hung with crimson silk, and tapestries on three walls. Isabel recognized what must have been some of the queen’s own embroidery on display.

  Mary was seated at a dressing table, her maid Aimee arranging her hair. “Mon petit Bisou needs you, Bel,” Mary said, thrusting the pup into Isabel’s arms. “Will you take him out for a bit? Then come back here, to me, s’il vous plait.”

  Isabel donned her cloak and did as Her Majesty requested. When she returned with the dog, Mary lay on her bed propped up with pillows. Dorothy was hovering about her. She always seemed to be the one who looked after Mary when she was struck down by one of her complaints, but now the queen shooed her away. “I wish to talk privately with Bel.”

  “Yes, madam,” Dorothy said. She glared at Isabel on her way to the door.

  Mary sighed. “I am so glad you are here, Bel. The others bore me. We have been too much together.” She held her hand out to Bel, who initially thought Mary simply wanted to clasp hands. But then Isabel saw that she was in fact handing her a very small item. It was a miniature portrait of an infant.

  Isabel studied it, the light dawning. “This must be your son. The little king.” She smiled at Mary, who looked pensive and sad. “How old is he?”

  “Oui. James. He is four, and I have seen him only once in the last two years. They will not allow it, Bel. That is cruel, non?”

  Returning the portrait to the queen, Isabel said, “Most cruel. May I ask whose decision that was?”

  “The Earl of Lennox, his paternal grandfather, is the regent at present, appointed by my cousin, Elizabeth. I imagine they decided jointly. Lennox despises me, for he believes I conspired in the murder of his son. My second husband, Henry, Lord Darnley.”

  Isabel did not know what to say. She’d not known of this and couldn’t imagine Mary conspiring to murder anyone.

  “Do not look so shocked, Bel. Have you not heard the rumors?”

  “No, Your Majesty. But I have led a very sheltered life and never learned much of the world outside my village.”

  Mary smiled, though her eyes still looked sad. “It is a long and complicated story, and much of it is best kept private. The crux of it is…Henry’s body was found in the garden after a powerful explosion destroyed the house where he’d been staying in Edinburgh. I was at Holyrood with my son at the time.”

  Isabel wondered why husband and wife had not been together. “The explosion killed him?” Isabel could not interpret Mary’s expression, but it seemed guarded. Something flashed in her eyes and vanished. “Why would anyone accuse you, if you were not even there?”

  Mary seemed to consider her words. “You will condemn me when I tell you
the rest. After Darnley’s death, I was convinced—forced, in truth—by my advisors to wed the Earl of Bothwell.” She glanced quickly at Isabel, as though to gauge her thoughts on the matter, then went on. “It was a mere three months after I’d lost Darnley. I-I found out later that the earl truly was complicit in Darnley’s death. It was assumed, then, that I, too, bore responsibility.” Tears trailed down Mary’s face, and she brushed them away. “Perhaps I did. Had I obeyed the dictates of my own heart instead of listening to others, I would still be in Scotland with my son.”

  “Or you and your son may also have been killed by the explosion. It is fortunate you were not there, even if your heart tells you otherwise.”

  Mary held out her arms, and Isabel went to her. The queen sobbed for some time while Isabel patted her and made soothing sounds. At length, she pulled away. “A handkerchief, please, Bel. In the drawer.”

  In the sudden silence, excited voices, male and female, drifted into Mary’s chamber. She dabbed at her eyes, then said, “We must see what the fuss is about, Bel. Thank you, my dear, for listening to my pathetic chatter.”

  Isabel, in whom the queen had induced profound feelings of tenderness and warmth, said, “I am honored to have your trust, Your Majesty. Believe me, I will never betray it.” Aimee appeared and helped Mary, who looked rather pale and weak, out of bed. The queen’s mood seemed improved. Mayhap she had simply needed to unburden herself. She grasped Isabel’s arm and they entered the outer chamber together.

  “What is all this excitement about, mes amis?” Mary asked.

  Gavin and Philip Blake stood in the middle of a circle of women, whose excited chattering ceased when they heard the queen’s voice. “Your Majesty,” Alice said. “Gavin has just informed us we have the earl’s permission for an outing! We’re to ride out tomorrow and enjoy an entertainment by the river. Isn’t that good news?”

  Mary stood there watching the others, stroking Bisou’s head. Finally, she said, “Why? Why is this allowed now, when all my previous requests to take the air have been denied? What has changed?”