“And Isobel,” Stephen asked between clenched teeth, “does she rise late, as well?”
“Nay, the lady is always up early.”
He was a lost man, that he would take heart from so little. Though it seemed a lost cause now, he would go see her. He had to.
“Tell me what you know of de Roche’s activities,” he said to change the subject.
“He’s always meeting in secret,” François said. “Sometimes with Armagnac sympathizers, other times with the Burgundy men.”
“What is he up to?” Stephen asked.
François shrugged again. “Lady Hume says we have no proof, but Linnet and I believe he is involved in some treachery against King Henry.”
Isobel, married to a man like her father, whose oath of loyalty meant nothing. A man of no honor.
Isobel squeezed her eyes shut, grateful for the darkness of the carriage. Her hands would not stop shaking. Stephen. How it tore her heart to see him! She was grateful de Roche dragged her from the Palais without introducing her to anyone.
“There was a rumor in Caen about you and this Carleton.” De Roche’s voice was low, menacing. “I did not believe it at the time, but now I wonder.”
De Roche grabbed her chin and jerked her face toward him.
“Were you bedding him, while you played the virtuous lady with me? Were you, Isobel?”
“You insult me grievously and with no cause,” she said, forcing herself to speak in a steady voice. “I have gone to bed with no man, save for Hume.”
He released her chin and sat back. “In sooth, I could not imagine you risking marriage to me for a dalliance with that wastrel. I vow I do not know what women see in him.”
That he is ten times the man you are.
At least her anger kept her from weeping now.
De Roche did not speak again until the carriage came to a halt before the front gate of his house. “I must return to the Palais for more discussions,” he said, sounding distracted.
Discussions over the city’s response to King Henry. Which side would de Roche argue? She hardly cared anymore, so long as he was away from her. Her foot was on the carriage step when de Roche’s voice stopped her.
“Leave your door unbarred tonight.”
She took a candle from the sleepy-eyed servant who opened the front door and assured him she could find her way to her rooms alone. As she walked past de Roche’s private parlor, she recalled talking with him there. She stopped in place. In her mind’s eye, she saw the scattered papers on the table… de Roche returning to lock something in the drawer…
The locked drawer. If he had something to hide, it would be there. Perhaps she could find a clue as to his true allegiance. She had a right to know something that affected her future so significantly.
Should she look now? De Roche was gone, the servants abed. Heart pounding, she stood still and listened. No sound of anyone moving about. She eased the parlor door open and slipped inside.
She felt her way through the dark room to the window on the courtyard. Looking out, she saw no light in any of the rooms save for her solar, where Linnet waited up for her.
It was safe, then, to light the lamp.
She lit the lamp on the table with her candle, then tried the drawer. Locked. As she looked about for something to use to pry it open, a small vase on the corner of the table caught her eye. Would de Roche be so obvious? She turned the vase over onto her hand. She smiled as the key fell onto her palm. The man was wholly lacking in subtlety.
The key made a satisfying click as she turned it in the lock. Aha! A single sheet of parchment lay in the drawer. When she began to read it, her sense of satisfaction drained from her.
She sat down on the chair and smoothed the parchment with shaking hands to read it again.
Cousin,
All is arranged. We are assured the pious H will insist on hearing Mass on such an occasion. Thus the great H will die on his knees. I shall be there to see it.
The complicity of others comes at a high cost. Have your share of the gold ready when I arrive.
