Francis looks to me, his eyes sunken and his face pale. “What do you say to all of this?”
I swallow down my growing fear, speaking to him honestly. “I don’t want them to hurt you.” Then I add, “You can come back after some time has passed. To check on things.”
To check if it’s Catherine who’s here, or me. I don’t say it, but Francis’s small nod tells me that he understands.
I think he’s going to push me for more, but he instead turns to Lady Rochford. “Will they look for me?”
“I’m sure that they will. If there is somewhere far off for you to hide, that’s where you should go.”
I watch as sadness crosses Francis’s face, but there’s a steadfast determination in his eyes as well. He hasn’t given up hope. A few moments later, he gathers my hand in his and places a kiss to the backs of my knuckles.
“Goodbye, then,” he murmurs again my skin. “I will come back once it’s safe.” I say nothing when he walks quietly from the hallway, and Lady Rochford moves to my side once he’s gone.
“Ready for the next one?” she asks.
A few minutes later, Lady Rochford returns to the hallway, this time with Thomas Culpepper trailing behind her.
He smiles mischievously as soon as he sees me. “A clandestine meeting,” he teases. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I glance over to Lady Rochford, and she disappears out of view down the hallway. I lean back against the wall, and Thomas does the same beside me.
“I need to know exactly what happened between you and me before I fell and hit my head.” He lifts up a questioning brow, and I shift my body along the wall to face him. “Everyone seems to think that we were close, but no one knows how close. And I need to know the truth.”
“The fact that you don’t remember is quite a blow to my ego.”
His demeanor is still light. I don’t buy it. “You say that with a smile, but I wonder if it actually hurts.” I need to show him that I see him. The actual him and not the performance.
He twists over to face me as well, his smile thinly falling. “I don’t get hurt,” he tells me.
I let my eyes soften as I watch him. “Everyone gets hurt sometimes.”
He chuckles and turns back to look at the parallel wall, and I just keep watching him. “All we ever did was talk,” he eventually tells me. “When we met, you were beautiful, and obviously I wanted you at first, but my desire to talk to you became stronger than my desire to seduce you. It was very unusual for me.”
Thomas pushes his shoulders back after he answers. I’m making him uncomfortable and I’m glad. Sometimes you can only truly know someone by walking side by side with them through discomfort.
“Why was it so unusual?” I ask him. “Don’t you like getting to know people?”
“Of course not,” he answers.
“But how can that be true when so many people at court like you? Anyone I mention you to is drawn to you, and none of them know why.”
“It’s because I’m handsome,” he says, tucking his hands behind his back against the stone wall. “I’m sure they secretly hate me. Or they would if they got to know me. You got to know me, and you still liked me. You were different.”
“I’m sure other people would connect with you if you would give them a chance.”
Thomas lets out a quiet sigh, still not turning to look at me. “People are more trouble than they’re worth.”
I let that sit for a moment before I speak again. “You’renot,” I end up telling him. “You’re not more trouble than you’re worth.”
Thomas turns to me, and for a brief second, I see the man behind the legendary charm. “I think instead of building walls to protect yourself, you built a stage instead. And rather than making friends, you began to collect admirers. For whatever reason, you didn’t deem anyone safe enough... until me.”
Thomas remains perfectly still, with only his eyes moving. I begin to worry that I might have given the psychologist in me too much freedom with that one, so I relax my face and shrug. “But what do I know?” I end up saying. “I’m just telling you what I think.”
Thomas pushes off the wall to stand across from me. His posture isn’t very guarded, but he isn’t at ease either. “Can I tell you what I am thinking?” he asks.
I nod and he looks down the hallway before glancing back at me. “I’m thinking that I’d like to show you something.” He reaches inside his doublet packet, pulling out a small, compressed pile of papers that I know I’ve seen before.
Those are Francis’s letter.
