She didn’t think he had gone hawking with William and Elizabeth—more likely he was working somewhere in the palace. She penned a brief message, asking him if they might meet later today to discuss “a matter of the past.” Let him interpret that as he wished.
When Minuette handed the message to Carrie and asked her to deliver it to Dominic, Carrie frowned and suggested she leave the suite as well. “You could walk in the galleries. It will do you good to look at something other than your own walls. And with the court out hawking, the galleries will be empty. You will not have to watch yourself so closely. I will find you when I have Lord Exeter’s reply.”
Minuette wondered, not for the first time, how much Carrie guessed of her dilemma. She had the uncomfortable feeling that her maid knew the innermost workings of her heart as well as she knew the linen underclothes she wore. Well, whatever Carrie might know or guess, Minuette could not speak freely. Not in the very heart of William’s palace.
As Carrie had advised, the long galleries were as empty as they could ever be. With William hawking, there was little need for hopeful courtiers to stand around waiting for him to pass through the corridors to plead whatever causes they had to plead. Those whom Minuette passed this morning seemed as anxious for solitude as she, and no one spoke to her.
Except the one person she least wanted to see.
She was standing in the gallery, gazing blindly at a tapestry of an idyllic country retreat complete with swans on a lake and a hunting dog pursuing ducks, when Eleanor Percy found her. “Mistress Wyatt.”
It was the first time she had seen Eleanor since the adder incident, and it was the politest voice Eleanor had ever used with her. Minuette inclined her head in the barest acknowledgment and waited for the other woman to pass on. But Eleanor, it seemed, had been in search of her, though the tight lacing of her bodice showed rather an interest in looking for men than for a woman. “Lord Robert Dudley would like to speak with you privately.”
Whatever for?she nearly asked. It was almost as though Robert knew what she had just read in her stepfather’s letter. “And why would he send you to find me?”
Eleanor gleamed in that particular way of hers, designed to make men stop thinking and women roll their eyes. “I was conveniently nearby. He’s in the map room just now. I believe this is a conversation you would prefer to have out of sight of the royals. Will you come?”
It seemed Eleanor meant to lead her there. Minuette tried to politely refuse, then less politely, but Eleanor said, “I wouldn’t want you to slip away. Lord Robert was quite specific.”
Something in the way she said his name…could Eleanor have moved on in her choice of men? Surely not, at least not with Robert. He had an eye for women, but he had a sharper eye for his own preservation. And bedding the king’s former mistress in the king’s own palace was sure to jeopardize one’s future. Especially when one was in love with the king’s sister.
Warily she followed Eleanor through the empty corridors to the map room, so-called because of the frescoed map of Europe that covered one entire wall. It was mostly used for exchequer business, but today there was only Robert sitting at a table with a ledger open before him. He shut it as the women entered and rose. “Thank you for coming, Minuette.”
To Eleanor, who waited at her side, he said, “You may go.” There was nothing, not even a flicker, to betray the slightest personal interest in her. Perhaps she had merely been convenient, at that. Minuette was just glad to see her go.
“Please,” Robert said, and they sat across from each other. She had seen him in this mood only once before, solemn and serious, when he had come to Framlingham last fall to tell her that the Spanish navy was on the move and she’d best hurry and find the Penitent’s Confession she’d been sent to locate. Robert serious was very serious indeed.
As though he could read her mind, he asked, “Do you remember the night Giles Howard died?”
I might have enjoyed you willing, but I will revel in you fighting.Giles upon her, sword in one hand, the other hand digging into her arm, dragging her up…pushing her against the wall…then he was falling and there was blood on her hands and wet across her face and her dress and spurting across the stones of the floor.
“I remember.”
“I know it was you, Minuette.”
“You know what was me?”
“You are the one who killed Giles Howard, not Dominic. I saw Dominic that night, not ten minutes afterward, in the clothes he was wearing in that lady chapel, and he had only smears and streaks of blood on him. You, however…your gown was so soaked in blood that your maid burnt it.”
She met his gaze steadily, but her thoughts raced as swiftly as her heart. It wasn’t as though she regretted killing Giles, considering what he’d meant to do to her. It just wasn’t something she wanted to remember. Or anyone else to know.
“Why are you bringing this to my attention now?” she asked softly. Robert Dudley was always a hard man to read, but never more so than when he was serious.
“Because you are in a precarious position, Minuette, and I would like you to take my advice.”
“By threatening me?”
“By proving to you that I have your best interests at heart. If I did not, I would have spread this news, for there are many at court who would pay to know anything that might discredit you. I am not interested in injuring you.”
“What are you interested in, Lord Robert?”
“Protecting England. You have to walk away from William.”
How to play this? Innocent? Outraged? Or as Robert was playing it—matter-of-fact and straightforward?
“Assuming that I know what you are talking about, why would I do that?” Was she always to be in the position of defending a match she didn’t even desire? Life would be so much easier if she could just tell everyone—anyone—the truth:I have no intention of marrying William ever.“And why are you the one to give me this advice?”
“Because no one else will,” he retorted. “At least, no one you want to tangle with. Would you rather be discussing this with my father? Or the Lord Chancellor? Or why not bring the new Duke of Norfolk into it—surely he’d have an opinion as to whether the king should marry the woman who murdered his nephew.”
