“Enough, Thomas.”
He did not think Thomas would show such disapproval over mere drunkenness, but he could not fathom how the man could know of his other behavior. Then he remembered the maid he had sent scurrying from Catherine’s bedchamber.
He raised his arms as Thomas fastened the rich jeweled belt Northumberland had given him low on his hips. So, he was to have a touch of finery after all.
“Where is she?” It hurt his dignity to ask Thomas, but the sooner he found Catherine and tried to make amends, the better.
“Who, m’lord?”
“You know very well who.” William ground his teeth, which only aggravated his pounding headache. “My lady wife. Where is she?”
“I do not know, sir,” Thomas replied with annoying calm. “She certainly would not have informed me.”
“Get my boots so I may go find her,” William said, wanting to throttle the man.
“You will need these,” Thomas said, bringing him his tall leather riding boots.
“What? She has left the castle?” William asked. “I thought you did not know where she was.”
“I don’t,” Thomas replied as he helped William into the tight boots. “But I did hear she left on horseback late in the night.”
“What?” William shouted. “When was this?”
“I understand she left not long after you went to bed, m’lord.” Thomas’s voice was rich with unstated meaning.
William pulled the man up by his tunic until they were nose to nose. “Where has she gone?”
Thomas remained unruffled. “I suggest you ask the housekeeper.” As though it was an afterthought, he added, “I heard old Jacob accompanied your lady.”
“What other escort did she take?” William asked.
“None but Jamie.”
God help him, she rode out into the night with only an old man as escort. It was madness.
He stormed down the stairs to find Alys. Was it his obscene behavior that drove Catherine to go, or had she planned to sneak away to join her lover all along?
He would find her and bring her back, prince or no prince.
He found Alys in the kitchen, consulting with the cook. “Now,” he ordered, pointing toward the open door.
After exchanging glances with the cook, Alys followed him out.
“Alys, if you value your life, you will tell me where she was meeting Prince Harry.”
“Prince Harry?” Alys pinched her brows together. “What are you asking, m’lord?”
“I know she has gone to meet him.” He was so angry he could have shaken the woman, if it would have done any good. “Where are they?”
“She would not trouble the prince, what with the rebellion and all.” She made it sound as if he was accusing Catherine of rudeness rather than adultery. “Nay, she sought refuge elsewhere.”
Refuge.
He threatened and cajoled. It was only when he gave Alys his solemn promise he would not harm Catherine that she finally told him where his wife had gone. When he heard it, the blood drained from his head.
Good God, he had driven his wife to a nunnery.
Chapter Eight
