The Gilded Crown (42 page)

‘Is that it?' complained the woman, returning her hems to floor length. ‘Hardly an assignation worthy of mention.' She felt his residue running down the top of her thigh and grimaced.

‘Well, just who in blazes do you think you are? The poxy queen of England? You are only Mistress of the Robes!' Bonneuil stared into her face. It once could have passed as comely but now it bore jagged scars that distorted her cheek and lip. She would not speak of it save that it granted her privilege in the Prince's new household. Like himself, she had made her way from Paris on a promise. Her saving grace in beauty was a lustrous crown of squirrel-red hair. Bonneuil had always been partial to autumn-coloured whores.

‘I could come to your room later,' she purred.

‘As if they'd assign me a room,' he scoffed and spat his offence onto the floorboards. ‘The stable is as good as it gets for me. Anyway, will you not be busy organising all the gowns of these bitches?'

The woman sighed. ‘Oui, but, Eustace, I have to sleep some time.' She ran her finger down the front of his embossed doublet. Not as fine as the Earl of Hereford's peacock-blue but admirable enough for the likes of her. ‘It might as well be with you.'

Bonneuil squeezed the plumpness of her breast. He liked his wenches well-padded, more to hold as he rode between their thighs. He pulled away before he hardened again. ‘Just do not be too late. And remember keep your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open. I want to know it all.'

He watched her retreating derrière wobble beneath her skirts as she left him to hurry about her business. Then he made his way outside. A group of five young lords had gathered under the trees to take fresh air and swap brags. Bonneuil's ears were alert as he passed them.

‘Christ on the cross! What a turnaround!'

‘Yes, but what a beauty.'

‘Did you see the size of that sapphire she wore?'

‘Never mind the sapphire. Did you see those pearls? She must have been hidden in the convent of King Neptune!'

‘Who cares about the pearls? I just want to feast upon her oyster!'

They exploded into ribald laughter. Snorting derisively Bonneuil made his way to the stables, missing the last remark.

‘You've no chance. Word is the Sir Ghillebert d'Albret is keeping her all to himself.'

Inside the hall, Humphrey de Bohan, Earl of Hereford, sidled up to his pseudo aunt. ‘Greetings, Katherine.'

‘Humphrey!' She grabbed his arm and pulled him into a secluded corner. ‘You'll never guess who turned up this evening! I'm quite enthralled.'

Humphrey managed to hold his facial expression even. In his opinion, Katherine Beauchamp was akin to a nervous little lap dog whose diet consisted entirely of gossip. At times, she was so eager, he thought it a wonder she didn't piss herself. But, unlike most who dismissed her as witless, he knew the advantage of staying within her grace. She possessed an inordinate perception of people and, not being a selfish woman, would share her bones of wisdom. He listened with growing interest as she blathered over the latest addition to the court.

‘I must say,' she pursed her lips, ‘that Lord d'Albret wasted no time swooping in on her.'

Humphrey sniffed with arrogance. ‘An eagle to a mouse … I cannot say I am surprised. They were together under the same roof in Chilham for months. And we all know Albret is no saint when it comes to bedchambers.'

Katherine palmed the base of her throat. ‘Months? Really? But you said Lord Holland visited Chilham. He must have been satisfied his offspring was properly chaperoned, surely?'

Humphrey shrugged. ‘Who's to say? There was that business at the pond. It was thought to be Holland's daughter but it was quickly hushed. And the loss of Arnaud d'Albret's heir but then Arnaud d'Albret left Chilham in a hurry.' He glanced at his aunt. ‘I tell you now there was funny business afoot before Lord Holland showed up.'

‘And not long after he departed Kent, he died,' mused Katherine. She turned to observe the maelstrom of eager courtiers whirling around Gillet and Cécile. Neither looked too happy. ‘You don't think Albret …'

‘No, Katherine. That's not his style.' He dropped a quick kiss upon her cheek. ‘But do be a sweeting and keep them in your focus. I'd love to hear all later. Oh, and thank you for finding my chamber-boy. Pity the lad lisps like a village idiot.'

‘That's quite all right, Humphrey, dear,' said Katherine, still bedazzled by the Holland girl. ‘It was no bother. He came very well recommended, you know.' Her examination left Gillet and Cécile to watch her nephew march off to join another group. ‘Lisp?' She muttered to herself, shaking her head. ‘The boy did not have a lisp when I spoke with him.'

‘Smile,' whispered Gillet, tightly. ‘We must convince them we are enjoying each other's company lest they separate us.'

‘Well, how can I?' hissed Cécile, ‘when you just told me I deserve nothing less than a good whipping! Do you think me a horse? No, wait,' she chided, peevishly. ‘You'd never take a rod to Inferno so I must assume that I rate lower than a beast on your scale of affection!'

Gillet nodded politely to a passing couple. ‘You know I say all manner of absurdities when I am vexed!
Christ's bones! Smile
. Aah, Lady Katherine.'

Katherine Beauchamp clapped her hands together in delight. ‘I have just spoken with Lord Felton and he will see both of you seated at our table, next to me.'

‘You honour us greatly, madame,' responded Gillet, bowing.

‘Nonsense! It will be my pleasure, I assure you.' She took Cécile's hand in hers, her long fingers sliding over Cécile's knuckles. ‘And, my dear, Lord Felton has sent to the inn you requested for your maid and belongings but I also assigned the Mistress of the Robes to serve you. She will see to anything you need.'

Cécile curtseyed. ‘Thank you, Lady Katherine.'

‘Lord d'Albret, Lord Felton requests the use of your squire to help his assistant with the chests.'

‘Of course, Lady Katherine. I will attend to it immediately.'

‘Good,' she replied, looping her arm through Cécile's. ‘We shall be seated, awaiting your return.'

Lady Katherine directed Cécile to the far end of the decorated trestles, above the salt. ‘Here, we go.'

Cécile climbed over the bench just as a man sat down opposite. Out of her peripheral vision she saw the Albret-black hair and, for a moment, thought Gillet had ignored Lady Beauchamp's request and followed them to the table.

‘Well, well, well,' her dinner partner drawled from across the board, ‘look what the cat dragged in.' His sneer revealed a gap where he was missing a front tooth.

Cécile caught her breath as she stared into the demonic glare of Gillet's older brother, Arnaud.

Gillet made his way to the stables but found the object of his errand coming toward him. ‘Griffith?' His squire's expression was disconcerting. ‘What is wrong?'

‘Nothing, milord, but I made an interesting observation. The same boy who begged coin from you outside the cathedral on Corpus Christy, and delivered your brother's message when you met with him, has turned up in the stable. His eye is as swollen as a ripe pear and just as rotten!'

Gillet frowned. ‘Does he say who did it?'

‘No, milord, but he wears the colours of Hereford.'

‘Interesting.' Gillet stroked his chin, then remembering his mission, slapped Griffith on the shoulder. ‘I have a job for you that will wash away weeks of hardship. How do you fancy an evening with your beloved?'

After Gillet briefly explained the unfolding events within the hall, Griffith strode off, grinning from ear to ear, to find Lord Felton. Gillet paused a moment to breathe some fresh air and gazed up into the twinkling sky. Without conscious thought, he sought the brightest one, his lips slowly stretching into a smile. No matter his concerns, he was glad at the appearance of his wife. His musing was interrupted by loud coughing and someone emerging from the stables. He heard them hawk a gob and spit it to the ground, then the sound of trickling as the man relieved himself. Gillet turned to go but caught the man's silhouette. Even elongated against the shed's wall, he recognised it.

‘God's nails!' He slid behind a bush, feeling his blood rise. ‘Bonneuil! What in plaguey hell is he doing here?'

They remained hidden behind the walls of Craiglocard Tower for more than a month before Simon concluded it was safe to depart for Dumbarton, instructing Catherine to pack their meagre belongings.

‘And what of me? Lady Agnes smiled sweetly as she entered the bower. Her gaze settled on the large parcel covered with the oiled cloth.

‘I have asked Roderick to escort you to Dunbar,' Simon replied.

‘My sister, Geilis, is residing in Glasgow. I think, under the circumstances, it would be wise for me to visit with her.' Agnes placed her hand on Simon's arm and sat beside him. ‘I know I have already asked a great deal, but should you grant me this favour, I would be very much in your debt.'

‘It would be my honour, Lady Dunbar.'

Roderick shot his brother a disapproving glare as he stood behind Agnes.

‘Lord Locard has offered his carriage so we can comfortably accommodate you. We will travel to Glasgow and then make our way to Dumbarton and back to Carlisle.' Simon grasped Catherine's hand. ‘I wish to return to Cambridge well before Catherine's confinement.'

‘Then you are not returning to Edinburgh?' Agnes asked.

‘Not in the short term.'

‘I see. Then it would be wise for you to make arrangements with your staff, Catherine.' Agnes advised as she helped herself to a goblet of wine. ‘I will notify Tiphanie's father of our plans.' Catherine looked over to English Mary who was assisting Girda with the baby. She had no wish to send her back to the Odistouns.

As though anticipating his wife's request, Simon shook his head. ‘We do not have the room and besides, she is Beatrix's maid.'

‘And I doubt she would want to leave Scotland,' Roderick admitted. ‘She may be called English Mary, but she has no love for her kin.'