“That may not be in my power. You would better ask the king.”
“Surely a word from his Lord Chancellor will go a long ways in predisposing the king to such a request.”
Rochford’s hooded eyes didn’t waver. “I will consider if such a request is in the country’s best interests.”
Which could mean anything from,Do what I want and I’ll take care of ittoWhat makes you think you have the right to ask anything?
With effortful politeness, Robert said, “Thank you.”
“You’d best deal with the issue of the young lady at once. I believe she did not go hawking with the court this morning.” Rochford waved over a clerk, pointedly dismissing Robert.
Only when he had left the Lord Chancellor’s apartments did Robert think seriously about what to say to Minuette. She was almost as willful as Elizabeth, more likely to persist in a course simply because someone told her not to. But he did not like that she was in Rochford’s sights. It was in her best interests to remain inconspicuous and stay away from William.
And as Rochford had said, might as well get it over with. He was looking for someone to direct him to Minuette’s chambers when Eleanor Percy intercepted him.
“May I be of service, Lord Robert?” she purred in that throaty voice that could make any man stop in his tracks.
“Back at court?” Robert asked. “I wonder if you’ll manage to remain this time.”
Her smile promised tangled bedsheets and skillful hands and eagerness. So that’s the way of it, he thought. She’s got her claws into William once more. One more reason to warn Minuette off.
But might as well make use of her. “Could you locate Mistress Wyatt for me?” he asked abruptly. “Tell her I’d like to speak with her. I’ll be in the map room.”
She curtsied. “I am at your service, my lord.”
I doubt that, he thought uneasily. The only one you’ve ever served is yourself.
As Eleanor walked away, Robert dismissed her from his mind and concentrated on finding the right words with which to warn off Minuette.
Minuette had tossed and turned all night, her conscience conflicted and restless. The next morning, with most of the court out hawking, she picked up a veil she’d begun embroidering before she went to France, and put it down somewhere else a minute later. She considered pulling out her diary, but knew she would never be able to focus enough to write anything. At last, she sat down long enough to reread the letter that had been waiting for her at Nonsuch.
Genevieve,her stepfather had written,I have reached the end of the list of names you handed me earlier this year. I do not like what I am left with. There are only four names that cannot be absolutely ruled out, but almost a dozen more that are alibis for one another. Can we trust for certain that the Earl of Sussex was with his wife that important month when your friend fell pregnant when it is his brother-in-law, also on your list, who is his sole alibi? You must see the issues there. Men will lie for many reasons, and covering another man’s infidelities is one of them. I would tell you where my own suspicions lie, but likely you already have guessed and would think me merely prejudiced. Perhaps I am. That does not mean I am wrong.
She could guess, all right. Two of the men who had alibied each other on that list of Alyce’s possible lovers were the Duke of Northumberland and his son, Robert Dudley. Minuette did not especially want to think about that just now, but it worried away at her.
After the fourth circuit of her suite—William had insisted she have more space, so now she had a small reception chamber as well as a bedchamber and a tiny room for Carrie—Minuette’s attention fell on the silver casket she had taken from Emma Hadley’s home back in May.
It had been amongst the possessions sent from Wynfield to Nonsuch for her return. She wished Fidelis had also been returned to her, but the wolfhound remained at Wynfield. She would have to speak to William about having him brought to court again. In the meantime, she needed to dispatch Alyce’s personal items back to her sister. Might as well look them over one last time before having Carrie see to their return.
Minuette forced herself to reread every letter contained in the casket, including the ones Alyce had written to her sister. But no matter how hard she tried to find something unusual, some sign of a code or clue about the man in the dead woman’s life, she could find nothing. After nearly two hours of staring at the single letters of each word on each page, she laid them aside and rubbed her temples.
Now what? She could hear John Dee’s voice, saying with surety of Alyce:She was a woman to leave a record.
But where? The orders from her lover had been openly ciphered, so that anyone seeing them would know they contained secrets. Nothing Minuette had found showed any sign of being anything other than what it was. Where else could she look?
As she pondered, she stared at the casket that had held the letters and now stood empty. It was silver, perhaps a foot wide and high, with ornate fretwork details on the sides. On the curved top were cinquefoils, the five-pointed flowers enameled in yellow and red. Minuette knew the casket had belonged to Alyce’s mother and that her friend had always had it with her at court.
She ran her fingers carefully along every surface, recalling the hidden altar piece at Framlingham that had once concealed a precious document. She detected nothing unusual. Next, she opened the casket. The interior was lined entirely with brown velvet that was shiny in several spots, no doubt from age. Considering, Minuette used her fingertips to trace the edges of the velvet. The bottom yielded nothing to her touch. But when she moved to the rounded top, almost at once her fingers caught at a corner where the fabric did not quite align.
Holding her breath, she pried loose one corner and then along one edge to another corner. The fabric pulled loose where it had merely been tucked in and she could hear the rustle of pages before she pulled them loose. She let her breath out in relief.
Here at last was Alyce’s accounting of her actions.
He danced with me tonight, twice…I should not be moved by him, but he makes me laugh…he is dangerous but that is part of the allure, I could never fall in love with a commonplace man…I know I am not the only woman in his life, but he makes me feel that I am…he’s asked me to spend a month with him, and though I know it is reckless to the point of lunacy, I will go…I told him about my condition today and he could not even be bothered to be angry—worse, he was indifferent…I am finished doing as he bids—rather risk the king’s wrath now than later…I will tell him what I mean to do, for I owe him that much …
Nothing as useful as a name, of course. But from the descriptions alone, the words convincingly ruled out the late Giles Howard. Even the most besotted woman could never have described him as alluring.
Minuette considered the pages before her and the letter from her stepfather. In that tangle of information, she knew one thing for certain: she needed to talk to Dominic.
