The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [46]
I finally ventured to say, “Initiative like my lord’s should be appreciated.”
It was a tepid attempt, but like most people with a hurt to avenge, Robert seized on it. “Yes, you’d think it should. But my father apparently thinks otherwise. And my mother—God’s teeth, I know well the only one she’s ever cared about is Guilford. She’d see the rest of us dead in an instant if it came to his life or ours.”
I let the moment pass. “I’ve heard it said mothers love their children equally, regardless.”
“Did yours,” he retorted, “when she left you to die in that cottage by our castle?”
The question was rhetorical; it didn’t require an answer. I stood silent as he went on.
“She doesn’t give a fig about me. Guilford’s always been her favorite because he’s the one she can control. She pushed to see him wed to Jane Grey. Father said she even went up against Jane’s mother when the duchess refused to consider it, citing that her daughter had the blood of kings in her veins, while we were upstarts with only the king’s favor to commend us. Somehow, she got the duchess to change her mind. Knowing my mother, she probably put a knife to that old cunt’s throat.”
His words jolted me to my sinews. A knife at the duchess’s throat: Suddenly I felt as if I were snared in a dark tangled web, where I had no chance of escape.
Robert undid his doublet, threw it onto the bench. “Well, foul on her! Foul on all of them, I say. I’ve my own plans now, and I’m not about to give them up just because she says I must. Let her go after Mary herself if she thinks that papist is a threat. I’m not some lackey to be ordered about at will.” He scoured the room. “Is there nothing to drink in this godforsaken hole?”
“I’ll fetch wine, my lord.” I went immediately to the door. I had no idea where to find it, but at least I could take some time to compose my reeling thoughts.
Robert stopped me. “No, forget the wine. Help me undress. No use muddling my wits. I’m going to find a way to see Elizabeth, whether my father approves or not. I’ll see her and get her consent, and once I do, he’ll have to agree. He can do nothing else.”
I divested Robert of his breeches, chemise, and boots. From his saddlebag, I extracted a cloth and dried the sweat from his torso.
“They’ll have no idea of what hit them,” he expounded. “Guilford and my mother, especially: I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when I tell them the news.” He guffawed, spread his legs as I untied his points and peeled off his hose. “What? Have you nothing to say?”
Folding his undergarments and setting them on the coffer, I said, “I’m content to serve as my lord deems best.”
He laughed. “Brash courage, Prescott—that’s what it takes to survive this cesspit we call life. Not that you would know.” He turned naked to the bedchamber. “Do as you like this afternoon. Just make sure you’re back in time to dress me for tonight. And don’t you get lost this time. I’ll need to look my best.”
“My lord.” On sudden impulse, I reached to my jerkin. The die was cast. It would not do to have her messenger return to inquire why Lord Robert had failed to reply. “I found this on the table when I first came in.” I extended the paper. “Forgive me. I forgot I had it.”
Robert snatched it from my fingers. “Clever boy. It wouldn’t do for my mother to have seen this. It’s a good thing you took a nap when you did.” He tore the letter open. Triumph flooded his face. “What did I tell you? She can’t resist me! She says she’ll see me tonight, in the old pavilion, no less. She has a macabre sense of humor, our Bess. It’s said her mother spent her last night of freedom in that pavilion, waiting in vain for Henry to come to her.”
“Then, it is good news?” There was a vile taste in my mouth.
“Good news? It’s the best bloody news I