As she made her way through the crowd, she caught bits of conversation and raucous laughter.
“Who was that in the queen’s lap?”
“Don’t know, but I’d say it was not the first time he’s been there!”
God help her, this was a disaster. With everyone looking for signs of an improper liaison between the queen and Owen, the truth could readily be discovered.
By the time Linnet reached the foyer, Jamie and Owen were nowhere in sight. After a quick look in the nearby rooms, she ran across the upper yard without a cloak. The chamber where she and Jamie usually met had most likely been given to one of the new guests, but she would check it anyway.
An instant after she rapped on the door, Jamie filled the doorway, towering above her.
“Where is Owen?” she asked as she scurried past him. Odd, but the room was warm, as if the brazier had been lit for some time.
“Don’t trouble yourself about Owen,” Jamie said. “He is safely out of the way for tonight.”
Linnet threw her hands up in exasperation. “How can the queen be so foolish over him?”
“It must be that she loves him,” Jamie said with an edge to his voice.
“What kind of answer is that?” Linnet said, turning around to face him. “She risks both their lives with this affair.”
“For a woman in love, no sacrifice is too great,” he said. “Or so I have been told.”
His tone was hard and angry, and she did not understand why.
“I did not wait here half the afternoon to talk about Owen and the queen,” he said.
Jamie had been waiting for her? Had he meant to break the news of his betrothal to her alone?
“And now, I want to know what in the name of all the saints you have been doing with Edmund Beaufort,” he said, his voice steadily rising. “Tell me, did you send for him to take my place the moment I was gone?”
His eyes were blazing. When he took a step closer, she had to fight the urge to step back.
“Could you not go a week without a man in your bed?”
This must be what he looked like when he charged at an enemy across a field. But now, she was just as angry. It welled in her chest and pounded in her ears.
“By what right,” she said in a low voice that could have cut steel, “do you believe you can question what I do?”
“Was that silver-tongued Edmund Beaufort man enough for you, or did you bestow your gifts upon others as well?” He took a step closer, and this time she did step back. “You did say one man might not be able to satisfy your needs.”
She could not believe she was hearing this.
“How dare you!” She slapped her hand to her chest, saying, “I am the one who is wronged here.”
“You, the one wronged?” he thundered. “You, the innocent?”
“You have a lot of gall, Jamie Rayburn, to ask me insulting questions about other men, when you have gone behind my back and gotten yourself betrothed.”
From the way Jamie’s mouth fell open, he had not expected her to know about his betrothal yet. What kind of fool did he think she was?
“Did you think I would not hear of it?” she asked, her voice going perilously high and thin. “You could not be bothered to tell me first? You must bring her here to Windsor to surprise me with the news?”
The anger seemed to have gone out of him. Guilt could do that. He reached his hand out to her, but she lifted her arms and stepped back from him.
“How could you, Jamie?” she said, tears stinging her eyes despite herself. She hated crying. Hated, hated, hated it. She clenched her fists and turned her back to him.
“I knew all along you would leave me,” she said, trying and failing to control the shake in her voice. “But I thought you would be kinder in how you did it this time. We had an agreement, remember? When you wished to end it, you were to tell me first.”
