The door to William’s private oratory opened as he yelled, and Elizabeth slid in quietly. “I could hear you from the corridor,” she remarked impassively. “And don’t exaggerate, Dominic. Minuette is unharmed.”
“Because she had the wolfhound with her! If she hadn’t—”
Dominic stopped because he couldn’t continue without giving himself away completely. Since last night, he had been balanced on a knife’s edge of fury and terror, and if he lost that balance the whole world would know how he felt about Minuette. He’d never done anything harder than leaving her last night when all he’d wanted was to sweep her away into the safety of his own rooms where he could protect her at every moment. Instead he’d been sharp and cold with her; now he was angry and unreasonable with William. Because if anything happened to Minuette…
William had let him rant without comment, but Elizabeth was willing to argue. “If Will sends her away again before the French delegation arrives, the gossipmongers will let loose. People will say he’s sending his mistress away to keep her from French eyes. Minuette’s reputation will suffer.”
“To hell with her reputation,” Dominic spat fiercely. “I won’t let her come to harm because of what gossips will say.” He wished he could pace like William usually did, but the oratory was cramped with the three of them inside. Set aside for William’s personal prayers, the space was little more than an alcove with a door, and the lectern with the English Bible filled at least half of it.
“And you think William will let her come to harm? Of course she’ll be guarded more thoroughly and—”
“Someone put anadderin her room!”
“Enough.” Though he didn’t raise his voice, William’s tone was pure monarch—expecting and receiving instant obedience.
“In this,” William continued flatly, “as in so many other things, Dominic is right. I will not risk Minuette’s safety. But Elizabeth, you are also right. It will not do to give anyone a weapon to use against her in future. If I send her away from court while my sister remains, then it will be seen as a very personal move.”
“What do you propose?” Dominic spoke calmly, now that he appeared to have gained his point.
William nodded to his sister. “The French arrive on May first. I need you here to greet them, but you need not remain the duration of their visit. If you withdraw to Hatfield after they arrive, you can take Minuette with you and there will be little talk of her absence.”
“I thought you needed me to charm the French.”
“I can contrive another opportunity that will do as well. Besides, the Protestants will claim your withdrawal as a sign of support for their opposition to the French marriage, so it’s useful on more than one front.”
Dominic broke in. “And until then? How do we keep Minuette safe for another ten days?”
“By all means,” William said, “set your own man to guarding her. He’s not one of mine, so people will pay less attention.”
“Maybe we want people paying attention—or one person, at least.” For Dominic didn’t give a damn about the French, or diplomatic tangles. He wanted only two things: to keep Minuette safe and to find out who had set a poisonous snake loose in her room. He didn’t think he would have to look far to find the culprit. “Why is Eleanor still at court?”
For the first time today, he could feel the slow burn of William’s irritation. “Lady Rochford made room for her amongst her ladies. There seemed no harm in it for a few days.”
“And where might Eleanor have been yesterday afternoon and evening?”
“Are you asking ifIam her alibi? You know I am not, since we were in meetings together and then I played tennis with the Earl of Oxford.”
Because he was angry, Dominic said what he might have only thought at another time. “It would simplify matters if Eleanor had been in your bed during the relevant period.”
“Dominic!” Elizabeth remonstrated.
Her brother ignored her. “I’m sorry to complicate matters with my fidelity. Really, Dom, I know your opinion of me never runs very high, but do you honestly think I would revert to Eleanor the moment she returned simply because she is available? Minuette means far too much to me. How many times do I need to prove it?”
Over and over and over again and it will never matter because you cannot love her as I do…Stop it,Dominic commanded himself. He had to get hold of his control and his temper before everything fell apart. And still William faced him, hurt because his friend did not trust him.
Grudgingly, Dominic said, “I apologize.”
“Accepted. And you’re right: Eleanor cannot be wholly discounted. Although I have a hard time imagining her skulking around corridors and handling venomous snakes. She’s much more direct. But by all means, question her yourself. Just be careful about it—get what information you can without giving away too much in return. The longer Eleanor remains ignorant of my true intentions for Minuette, the better. No need to give her reason to hate Minuette more than she already does.”
Excused from the king’s presence, Dominic went straight from the oratory to track down Eleanor, for he had never been more anxious to confront someone in his life. He knew, dimly, that he would be better served by disinterest and an open mind, but he didn’t care—he needed to turn his fear and anger on someone. He had not forgotten the look in Eleanor’s eyes as she had watched Minuette and William dancing the other night. From Eleanor’s point of view, she had good reason to hate Minuette.
Almost as many reasons as he had to hate William—if only William weren’t his best friend.
He found her strolling in the gardens with another woman from Lady Rochford’s household. The duchess’s women were easy to pick out, being often the most elaborately dressed and most likely to skirt the edge of protocol. Dominic might have expected a recent widow such as Eleanor to dress in a more somber fashion, but then she had never made an effort to pretend any attachment to her late husband. Today she wore a bodice and overskirt of bright cerise that highlighted her fair hair and skin; it was laced so tightly that her waist was tiny beneath her generous cleavage.
“I’d like to speak with you, Mistress Howard. Privately.”
“It’s Mistress Percy,” she retorted, “and I’m not free at the moment.”
