Jamie broke the seal and read the short missive. “Bedford has returned,” he said as he rolled it back up. “He has taken up residence at Westminster. I am to go to him at once.”
A few weeks ago, he had prayed diligently for Bedford’s return to England. Now that he no longer wanted it, this was the one prayer God chose to answer. The mysteries of heaven.
With Bedford in England, Jamie’s assignment to watch over the queen was at an end. Bedford’s authority was accepted, and his support for the queen was unqualified. His presence ensured her safety—at least from the risks known to Bedford. The queen’s getting caught in an affair with Owen Tudor was not, however, among the hazards Bedford anticipated.
“She is the most unfortunate of women.” That was what King Henry had said of his young queen on his deathbed—and Bedford still believed it. No one honored the dead king’s memory more. Bedford would be surprised to learn the queen wished to share her bed withanyman after the glorious Henry; the good man’s heart might fail him if he knew she was bedding her Clerk of the Wardrobe.
Regardless, Jamie had lost his excuse to tarry at Windsor. It was time, then, to settle matters with Linnet. He had grown increasingly impatient with the way things stood in any case.
“Be ready to leave at dawn,” he said to Martin as they entered the gate. “I want to reach Westminster before nightfall on the morrow.”
He left Martin to return Thunder to the stables and marched across the upper ward. It was time to push Linnet to the wall and see what she would do.
He found Linnet waiting for him in what had become their usual meeting place—the empty bedchamber in the wing opposite the royal apartments.
After greeting her, he went to the narrow table against the wall where they kept a flagon of wine.
He spoke with his back to her as he poured a cup for them to share. “Bedford has returned from France.”
When he turned, he caught no sign of dismay in her expression. With an inward sigh, he went to join her at the window seat.
“Praise God, Bedford is here,” she said, taking the cup from his hands. “No one else can control Gloucester.”
Not the reaction he hoped for, but perhaps she did not yet grasp what Bedford’s return meant for him and this affair of theirs.
“Aye, Gloucester will behave whilst his brother is in England,” he said as he settled beside her on the bench. “The Council named Gloucester the Protector of England only in Bedford’s absence—a wise move. Gloucester lost his authority the moment Bedford set foot on the English shore.”
Jamie rested his hand on her thigh. If so much were not at stake, he would enjoy sitting and having a quiet talk with her like this.
“Bedford cannot be well pleased with his brother,” she said. “First, Gloucester marries Jacqueline de Hainaut before King Henry was in the ground, when everyone knew the king had forbidden the marriage.”
It was not Gloucester’s marriage Jamie wished to discuss.
Linnet, however, was so incensed with Gloucester that she waved her hands about as she spoke. “He only wed Jacqueline because of her claim on Zeeland and Hainaut.”
Gloucester’s failed expedition to take Zeeland and Hainaut in his wife’s name had diverted funds and men that Bedford badly needed for the war in France. Even worse, the expedition had nearly led to a break with Burgundy, England’s critical ally in that war, because Burgundy also claimed Zeeland and Hainaut.
“If I were Bedford,” Linnet said, her beautiful face as hard as granite, “I’d chain Gloucester in the dungeon for all the trouble he’s caused.”
“Lucky for Gloucester, his brother has a more forgiving nature than you do.” Jamie smiled and squeezed her thigh. “You have heard that forgiveness is a virtue?”
“Hmmph.” She crossed her arms. “A man who shows no repentance deserves no forgiveness.”
No mercy for Gloucester. It was time to find out if she had any for him.
“Bedford has summoned me to Westminster. I leave early on the morrow.”
He felt her stiffen beside him. With her eyes straight ahead, she said, “How long will you be gone?”
“I cannot say.” He shrugged. “A few days, a week perhaps.”
She turned and said, “I shall miss you.”
He would have preferred, “Do not go,” or “Take me with you.” Still, it was better than nothing.
Then she put her arms around his neck and kissed him, and that was better still.
“Come to London with me,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “We could stay at your London house, where we would not have to sneak about to be alone.”
