The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [37]
I was relieved to reach Whitehall. The main courtyard was full of servants and chamberlains, and I discreetly asked one for directions to the Dudley chamber.
Despite my determination to help the princess and despite Cecil’s explicit trust, I hadn’t been convinced I could look Lord Robert in the face and not give myself away. It was one thing to despise him for using me, quite another to know I had to show an impenetrable front to keep him from achieving his ends. And knowing I was being followed had only added fear to my already extreme case of nerves. If whoever it was had discovered my meeting with Cecil, I thought it safe to assume the intent was not benevolent. Not only was Elizabeth’s safety and that of her sister, Princess Mary, at stake, but my own life could hinge on my ability to complete this task. All I needed to do for the moment, I kept telling myself, was to convince Robert his cause was not lost, only delayed by feminine caprice. As for what came after, given recent events, I thought it best not to look too far ahead.
Inhaling a deep breath, I threw open the chamber door, my excuse ready on my lips.
The room was empty. Only the stripped bed frame and scarred central table remained. On this table were thrown my saddlebag and cloak.
“Finally,” a voice said from behind me. I spun about.
Resplendent in scarlet brocade, his slashed breeches cut short to reveal his muscular thighs and to enhance the protruding splendor of his curled and patterned codpiece, Lord Robert Dudley swaggered into the room.
I bowed low. “My lord, forgive my tardiness. I got lost and—”
“No, no.” He waved a gloved hand, perfuming the air with a distinct scent of musk. “Your first night at court, all that free wine and food, a wench or two—how could you resist?”
His grin was brazen, displaying strong teeth. Not a pleasant grin, but appealing all the same. Much as I hated to admit it, I could see why women responded to him. The grin also indicated to my relief that he wasn’t inclined to see me grovel.
He arched a brow. “You missed the packing, however, not to mention my good news.”
“My lord?” Of course. That was why he looked so smug. He had news.
His dusky eyes glittered. “Yes. I’ve received word from my father that Her Grace has decided to stay to celebrate Guilford’s nuptials. It seems she can’t resist me. And I owe it all to you.” He let out a guffaw, slinging an arm about my shoulders. “Who could have guessed you had such a sweet tongue? We should consider sending you abroad as an ambassador.”
I forced out a grin. “Indeed, my lord. Thus may you take heed of how to woo a lady.”
“Bah!” He thumped my back. “You are a live one, I’ll grant you, but you’ve a ways to go before you’re fit to woo anything other than a tavern slut. I, on the other hand, will soon pay suit to a princess of the blood royal.”
Naturally, he assumed the princess was going to Greenwich because of her interest in him. But at least I had something to report to Cecil. By Robert’s own admission, he confirmed his intent. I could scarcely look at his face, thinking that under that enviable facade lay the soul of a villain.
“Does my lord think she’ll…?” I let my insinuation linger.
“Oblige me?” He played with the fringe of his gauntlets. “How could she not? She may be a princess, but she’s also Nan Boleyn’s daughter. And Nan always had an eye for the gentlemen. But, like her mother, she’ll make me wait. It’s the Boleyn way. She’ll make me beg before I am deemed worthy, just as Nan did to Henry. No matter. It gives us all the more time to bait my snare.”
I detested him in that instant, overcome by the urge to wipe that insufferable superiority off his face. Instead, I found considerable pleasure in removing the ring from my doublet. I extended it. “I certainly hope so, my lord, because she wouldn’t take this from me.”
His self-indulgent expression froze. He stared