The Boleyn Reckoning (18 page)

“But she didn’t threaten the king, did she?” Jane countered. “She threatened you.”

“Would you care to speak freely?” Minuette asked drily.

Unperturbed, Jane merely studied Minuette with furrowed brow and real concern. “I hope that you are what William needs. A strong king is a strong England, yes, but for his own sake and my affection for my cousin, I want him to be at peace as well.”

“You are kind,” Minuette said impulsively, and meant it. She herself had once been kind. How long had it been since she had been motivated by anything except her own concerns?

She would remedy that tonight. She would speak to William about Lady Rochford. And, for her sins, Eleanor Percy.

William had been anticipating a quiet, intimate dinner with Minuette in his privy chamber. It was quiet enough, but the intimacy of their last night together for a month was spoiled by Minuette’s choice of topic.

“Jane Grey came to see me today,” she began, playing with the quail and leek pie on her plate but eating little.

“Yes?” William asked from mere politeness. “You’ll have to accustom yourself to many visitors. Everyone will want something from you now.”

He did not want to talk about Jane. It seemed to him he had spent half his life fending off his young cousin. Though Jane herself was reserved, even shy, she had a highly ambitious mother whose ambitions had heightened with the overthrow of the French treaty. Despite the title so recently given to Minuette, the Duchess of Suffolk saw what she wanted to see: the French marriage off, the Catholics on increasingly unstable ground, and a daughter with
royal blood and impeccable Protestant credentials. His aunt did everything but parade Jane naked in front of him, and if she could have gotten away with that, she would have.

And it was true that he had frequently made use of Jane’s company since Easter. He did not fault her for her mother and Jane was convenient and restful company. She was also the only woman at court, other than Elizabeth, who never made sly comments about Minuette. It was useful to be seen riding with Jane or sitting next to her at table or merely giving her his arm while they walked through the galleries. It made the Catholics nervous.

But the last thing he needed was Jane’s pious presence evoked in this private space with Minuette.

“She didn’t want something for herself. She was asking, rather, after Lady Rochford’s welfare. Jane claims that your aunt has been unwell in the Tower.”

“Gone mad, you mean?” William said casually. “It seems so. The doctors who’ve examined her believe she is not feigning merely to avoid trial.”

“If she is truly afflicted, where will you send her? Surely you will not continue to keep her at the Tower. She must be moved elsewhere—perhaps one of their homes.”

“Do you think my uncle is interested in caring for a lunatic wife?” He did not miss the flinch of Minuette’s expression, but she needed to hear the truth. “Her condition does not answer her crimes. She came perilously close to killing you. An attack on you is an attack on me. For that, she will answer.”

“How? If she is too ill for a trial—”

“Don’t fret about it, Minuette.”

“But—”

“I have everything in hand.”

“William, surely—”

“Enough!” Why was she pressing him when all he’d wanted was
the joy of her presence? She should be as anxious as he to enjoy their last hour alone. Why did she have to drag politics into it?

She had whitened at his snarl, but met his gaze steadily. “If you do not wish to discuss Lady Rochford, perhaps we should touch upon Eleanor Percy. I know she has been released from the Tower.”

Not the change of topic he’d hoped for. “She remains under guard in London. You cannot imagine I would let her anywhere near you—”

“I think you were quite right to release her.”

William stopped with his mouth open, dizzy at Minuette’s unexpected calm. “You do?” He cleared his throat, and tried to sound more authoritative. “My aunt’s guilt does not necessarily equate to Eleanor’s innocence. She must answer for herself and her actions.”

“I have no doubt that Eleanor will be able to account for herself very well. Though I doubt we shall ever be friendly, I am not afraid of Eleanor Percy, nor am I jealous of her. You must do what you think is best for the mother of your first child.”

Once more Minuette had caught him off guard, and it made him unreasonably irritated. “Since when are you concerned with Eleanor’s welfare?”

With a cool lift of her curved brows, Minuette said, “I thought my concern for others was one of the things you liked about me.”

“Minuette, sweetling, come here.” William pushed his chair back from the table and waited until Minuette had hesitantly sat on his lap. He twisted a lock of her hair around his hand and held her face still. “I love everything about you. You are as necessary to me as breath. But I have voices all day and all night telling me what to pay attention to, what is right, what they want and how they want it. I need you to be my sanctuary. No talk of prisons or trials, of governments or armies.”

He kissed her lingeringly on the lips. “Be my rest,” he murmured, moving his mouth along the curve of her neck. “My heart,
my peace, my love.” With each endearment he left a kiss in its wake. Only Minuette had the effect of both rousing and relaxing him. His body might strum with the pleasant tension of unmet desire, but his mind was gentled into a quiet only she could offer.

“I hate that you’re going to Hatfield,” he said softly. “Every time you leave me I fear you will not return.”

“I will return, William.”

There were unshed tears in her voice and William knew she found it as difficult to part as he did.

W
HEN
M
INUETTE ANNOUNCED
to Elizabeth that she would be paying a visit to Lord Rochford at Blickling Hall before traveling on to Hatfield, the redheaded princess reacted with a temper that had only rarely been turned on Minuette. It flared quickly into a full-scale argument that left Minuette ruffled and unhappy as she approached the home where George Boleyn had been born and where he now spent his days in haughty solitude while waiting to see what further penalties the king might impose.

When Elizabeth attempted to forbid her going, Minuette had summoned all the authority of the position she did not want and replied, “I am no longer part of your household, Your Highness. The king has ordered you to treat me as a guest at Hatfield. And as your guest, I am telling you when I will arrive, not asking.”

Only the tiniest part of her would admit the satisfaction of standing her ground and, for once, not worrying about leaving someone else out of temper. Why was it her responsibility to make everyone happy?

Dominic did not argue with her plans to see Rochford, but that was simply because he was not at court and thus had no idea. He
had returned to the coastal defenses, although France had made no moves across the Channel as yet. Barring battle, Dominic would be charged with overseeing King Philip’s arrival and royal reception at Dover Castle. Minuette told herself that she was willing to stand her ground with her husband as well, but why make her life more difficult than it need be? She knew how deeply unhappy he was about her involvement with Lord Rochford. She didn’t think he would forbid her visit, but why risk it?

As she approached Blickling Hall, Minuette briefly wished that she
had
told Dominic so that he might have forbidden her. Or that Elizabeth had gone to William in order to stop her—what on earth was she thinking, taking on Rochford at a game he’d been playing since before she was born? But she steeled herself for the encounter, and by straightening her back and pretending absolute confidence she found enough to go forward.

Rochford met her in his study, an old-fashioned chamber heavily paneled in dark wood that showed its age in the deep-set windows that offered only dim light. The furnishings were also from a previous era, though rather pleasing in their simplicity and lack of ornamentation. The duke offered her the courtesy of rising briefly from his chair. “My lady marquess,” he said. Was it possible for him to speak without irony? “I regret not having been at court for the patent of your nobility.”

“You regret not being able to prevent the king from bestowing it, you mean.”

He waited until Minuette had seated herself to continue. “I may think you all kinds of wrong for my nephew, but I submit when I must. One can only win if one lives to fight another day.”

“And so you sit here while your wife marches toward a trial. Have you corresponded with her?”

Rochford’s lips tightened. “You may walk in and out of the
king’s mind at will, but I do not concede you that right. Although speaking of the king, I do wonder—does William know you are here?”

“Have I come to Blickling because he cannot openly do so without angering others, do you mean? No. I am here on my own account, not at the king’s bidding.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Rochford murmured. “If not for William’s sake, perhaps for the Duke of Exeter? Dominic Courtenay might have things he’d prefer to say to me behind William’s back.”

“Lord Exeter does not say anything behind the king’s back that he would not say to his face.” She managed to make the lie believable. “Lord Rochford, I told you before that a time might come when I would need all the friends I could get. That time is growing nearer.”

“If you are so in need of my aid, perhaps you might have ensured that I was not banished from court. What is it you expect me to do from here?”

Minuette drew a steadying breath. She was about to leap into the void, entrust her deepest secret to a man she had never trusted. But time was growing short, especially if her suspicions were correct.

It had been ten weeks since that night in May when Dominic spent two hours in her bed. Ten weeks and no sign of her normal courses. Carrie was watching her closely, perhaps as terrified as Minuette of what it might mean.

But Minuette wasn’t just terrified. She was also emboldened. And focused.

“Lord Rochford, I know how deeply you disapprove of William’s desire to marry me. What if I told you that I have no intention of becoming the king’s wife?”

“I would say that you are either remarkably wise or remarkably foolhardy. Are you saying you would prefer to be his mistress?”

“I would prefer to be his friend, as I have ever been. I love William, but not as he wants. I would do almost anything to ensure his happiness. But I will not marry him.”

For the first time ever, Rochford looked at her with something like appreciation. “Dare I hope your decision is for wisdom’s sake alone, or do I detect another man in the picture?”

Minuette would never speak openly of her husband, but she had guessed she would not have to. Rochford was perhaps the cleverest man she’d ever known.

“I did think you were looking rather … what’s the politest word?” Rochford queried. “Satisfied? Well used?”

“That is not polite at all,” she answered sharply.

He went on as if she had not spoken. “And if there is another man, no prizes for guessing who. I would have said Dominic Courtenay was the least likely man in the world to go behind Will’s back. But when there’s a woman in it …” Rochford shrugged. “I suppose I, of all people, should not be surprised at what a man will do for a woman he has convinced himself he is in love with.”

Minuette swallowed her temper and her distaste. “Will you help us?”

“How?”

“We need to leave England.” How it grieved her to say so, and how exceedingly difficult it would be to make Dominic agree, but she could see no other course. She had hoped for months that she would be able to mitigate William’s anger when he learned of their marriage, but if she were indeed with child …

She could not risk being confined to the Tower. They must leave England.

Rochford considered her thoughtfully. “You do not trust to my nephew’s mercy? Then you are not the simple girl I took you for. Yes, you will need to be well out of his reach. But your choices for exile are rather thin on the ground just now. Spain will not risk angering William while Philip angles to marry Elizabeth. And even you might have a hard time persuading Courtenay to take refuge in France. That would smack rather strongly of state treason.”

“That leaves the Low Countries,” Minuette agreed, for she had already thought through the options. “Can you arrange it? It will need to be for four.” Because they could not leave Carrie and Harrington behind.

“It’s possible. Letters to prepare your way, contacts to get you out of England secretly. But what is in it for me?”

“I’ve given you your life. How certain are you that, if you had not confessed preemptively to William, he would not have charged you with treason and sent you to the block? You may be banished, but I doubt you’ll remain that way. You are too canny at politics.”

“While there’s life there’s hope?” Wonder of wonders, Rochford smiled at her. “I suppose so. But still, if William ever discovered that I helped his beloved flee from him—”

“You can pin it on someone else. The Howard family, perhaps? What with my stepfather being a Howard.” It made her stomach knot to say it, but she would warn Stephen Howard as best she could to ensure he would not be caught in Rochford’s trap. And if he was—well, she would sacrifice anyone for Dominic and their child.