“But if you can’t prove it, you’ll lose your head at Tower Hill.”
“How kind of you to remind me.”
Alex swung his legs over the bed and stood up, wrapping the sheet about him with such obvious practice that Roselyn didn’t even have time to be embarrassed.
“And because I aided you in this deception,” Alex continued coldly, “This could very well be a twin execution.”
Leaning on his cane, Spencer stepped in front of Alex. “Do not worry yourself, brother. The queen knows how small your part in this has been. If anyone loses his head, it will be me.”
“Gentlemen,” Roselyn quickly said, stepping between them, “we have a problem to solve, and I think I know just how to do it.”
But before she could procure the Spanish letter, they heard a sudden pounding, then the splintering of wood. The brothers looked briefly at each other, before Alex dropped his sheet and reached for his clothes.
With a gasp, Roselyn covered her eyes.
“Sorry, but I’m not going to meet our guests quite so exposed,” Alex said.
In the distance, they heard a maidservant’s cry, then the pounding of booted feet on the stairs. Spencer suddenly grabbed her arms and held her still.
“Do not say a word to them,” he said urgently.
“But who is it?”
“Probably soldiers. You are not a part of this and I will not have you endangered.”
“But Spencer, I have something to tell you!”
Before any more words could leave her mouth, the door was thrown open and the room was suddenly full of soldiers wearing plated brigantine and waving muskets and pikes. Spencer shoved her behind him, and she wanted to scream when he was pulled from her and forced to his knees while they bound him from behind.
“On whose authority do you imprison me?” Spencer demanded.
“By Her Majesty’s authority, my lord,” said one of the soldiers. “You’re to be held for questioning.”
Alex, wearing only a shirt and wide, loose breeches over his hose, was similarly restrained. “Let me at least put on my boots,” he said with a growl.
“Iam Spencer Thornton,” Spencer said. “You want me, not my brother.”
Although Alex shot Spencer a speculative look, the captain merely said, “We cannot tell the difference between you. Better that we make a small mistake than a large one.”
Roselyn stood beside the bed, clutching one of the tall posts, wondering if the queen had turned against Spencer. She felt useless, able only to cower like a weak woman while the brothers were led toward the door.
“Where are you taking them?” she demanded.
She immediately regretted her bravery when more than one soldier turned her way. Spencer looked over his shoulder, giving her a narrow-eyed warning.
“Lord Thornton has a broken leg!” she said. “Please, at least take his cane.”
To her utter surprise, the soldier holding Spencer motioned to another, who picked up the cane from the floor.
They pulled him toward the hall, but came up short as a small woman blocked their way. She was dressed in a fine black gown, and her gray hair was neat beneath a smart black cap and veil. Though Roselyn couldn’t see Spencer’s face, his entire body became rigid.
“Madre,” he said simply, with a short nod of his head.
This formidable woman had obviously faced too much in her years in England to be cowed by mere soldiers. In a lightly accented voice, she said, “You heard the young lady. Where are you taking my sons?”
As the company of soldiers moved past her, escorting Spencer and Alex from the room, their leader said, “They go to the Tower, my lady, where we take all traitors.”
The fear that spread through Roselyn was like a slow death in icy water—but she had sworn to herself that no longer would she hide away from the real world. She would take chances, brave danger—anything to free Spencer.
