Could the girl not leave her in peace? She looked longingly over her shoulder at her tree. The sharp slap on her cheek startled her.
“Linnet!”
“I warned you,” Linnet said without the slightest show of remorse. “Now you shall eat the food I brought you, and then you shall wash and dress. Did you not promise the king you would keep watch on de Roche? I tell you, he is up to something. We must find out what it is before it is too late.”
Too late? It was already too late, for her. But Linnet was right. She was neglecting her duty. If de Roche was changing loyalties, she must try to turn him back. She was so bone weary, though, she did not know how she would do it.
“I will get dressed and do my duty,” she told Linnet. Bleak as her future looked, she did not want to add traitor’s wife to her list of burdens.
As if by some signal, there was a knock on her door the moment she was dressed. She heard whispers, and then François appeared before her. He must have grown half a foot since Stephen first brought him from Falaise. Overnight, he’d gone from boy to youth on the brink of manhood.
“ ’Tis good to see you up and about, Lady Hume,” he said in a new, deep voice. “Are you feeling better?”
“I am, thank you.” She did feel a bit better for having eaten. “Linnet tells me you have some news I should hear?”
“ ’Tis about Lord de Roche,” François said. “Linnet and I believe he is plotting against King Henry. Late at night, he meets with men in the small parlor, where none of the servants can overhear them.”
“This means nothing,” Isobel protested.
“But we heard them from the bushes outside the window,” Linnet said.
Good heavens, what had the two of them been up to? Isobel felt a surge of guilt for her neglect.
“We did not hear much,” François admitted, “but they kept mentioning King Henry and—”
“—Burgundy and the Dauphin,” Linnet finished for him.
“So they speak of politics? In these times, men talk of little else. I am sure de Roche is only doing what he pledged to do. He is persuading these men to support King Henry.”
The twins shook their heads in unison.
“De Roche sounded as if he wanted to spit each time he said the king’s name,” François said, as if that settled the matter.
Though there was no reason for the late night meetings to make Isobel suspicious, the twins’ certainty made her uneasy. Had de Roche changed loyalties? To find out, she would have to join him in the hall and learn whom he entertained as guests.
The thought of seeing him caused her palms to sweat and her throat to go dry. There was no point, however, in delaying the inevitable.
She stood. “I shall go speak with him now.”
“There is something else you must know,” François said.
Was there no end to this? Isobel nearly snapped at him before she noticed his gaze was on the floor and he was shuffling his feet.
“What is it?” she asked, touching his arm.
François’s voice was so low she had to lean forward to hear him. “No one in the city knows of your betrothal.”
“That cannot be,” she said. “By now, the banns must have been read in church at least once.”
François shook his head, then looked sideways toward the door, as if longing to escape.
To what end did de Roche delay? News traveled slowly between the English- and French-held parts of Normandy, but it did travel. He could not hide her forever.
Isobel found de Roche sitting behind a table scattered with parchments in his private parlor. When he saw her in the doorway, he leapt to his feet and crossed the room.
“I’m glad to see you are well!” he said, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her. “You look lovely, if a little thin. Come, you must sit.”
He put his arm around her and guided her to the chair closest to the brazier. His solicitude made her feel guilty for letting the twins’ wild speculations run away with her.
