The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [50]
“If you promise,” said Stokes. For no discernible reason, the finger he drew down her exposed throat filled me with dread.
He turned heel on his elegant boots and returned to where the other men stood grinning. Linking her arm in mine, Kate Stafford drew me back into the passage.
The instant we were out of sight, she pulled me into a recessed window bay. All semblance of indulgent coquetry vanished. “What do you think you are doing?”
Seeing as she’d foregone the pretense, I saw no reason why I shouldn’t follow her example. “I was going to see Her Grace. I bring important news she must hear at once.”
She thrust out her hand. “Give me the missive, whoever you are.”
“You know who I am.” I paused. “I didn’t say I had a missive.”
She stepped close, her apple-blossom scent taunting me. “I assumed you did, under the circumstances. You are Lord Robert’s squire.”
“Ah, so you remember me.” I too leaned close, so that our noses almost touched. “Not to mention that you must also be expecting a reply to the missive you just delivered.”
She drew back. “I’m sure I don’t understand.”
“Oh? That wasn’t you in my master’s chambers earlier? There is another lady at court who wears boots under her gown?”
She went still. I smiled as I saw her inch the betraying foot back under her hem.
“I was behind the curtain,” I explained. “Now, I must deliver my lord’s reply.” I started to turn away. She gripped my arm again, with astonishing strength for so small a person.
“Are you mad?” she hissed. “You mustn’t be seen anywhere near her. You are his servant. Their meeting is supposed to be a secret.” She glanced to the gallery entrance before returning her eyes to me. “Give me his reply. I’ll see that she reads it, have no fear.”
I pretended to consider. Then I removed the paper from my jerkin. As she made a move to take it, I shifted my hand behind my back. “I must say, this is rather convenient—you being here at the precise moment I arrive.”
Her fingers closed on air. Her chin lifted. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, for one, that I saw you at Whitehall.”
“Yes, and…?”
“And you didn’t look too concerned for your mistress when she left the hall, though she was clearly in distress. In fact, I saw you speak to Master Walsingham. So, before I hand over my master’s missive, I think I need some answers.”
She tossed her head. “I’ve no time for this. Keep your master’s reply. I know his answer.” She started to step past me.
I blocked her way. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
“I could scream,” she said. “I am the princess’s lady. Those gentlemen would be here in a few seconds, and that would not bode well for you.”
“You could. But you won’t. You don’t want your admirer back there to know you’re doing more than showing me to the kitchens.” I drew myself to full height. “Now, who told you I was coming? Walsingham? Are you his doxy? If so, Her Grace won’t enjoy discovering that her own lady-in-waiting, whom she entrusts with personal correspondence, is being paid to spy on her.”
She burst out laughing, then clapped a hand to her mouth. “You really are too inexperienced for this sort of thing,” she said in a low voice. “I should send you on your way and not tell you a thing. But in the interest of time, no, I am not Walsingham’s doxy. I simply know him because of Her Grace’s acquaintance with Master Cecil. Or rather, I know of him. He’s a professional informant—and if rumors are true, trained in Italy as an assassin.”
“Hence his gallant manner.”
Her smile was tart. “Exactly. He happened to be near me as Her Grace left the hall. I assure you, we exchanged only the required niceties.”
“I suppose you weren’t listening in on her conversations, either?” I said dryly.
“No, that I was doing. She calls me her ears. I’m the reason she need not resort to outright gossip, which would be unbecoming in one of her rank. Before you ask, I also tried to hear your presentation to the duchess of Suffolk. I reasoned Her Grace must have been curious as to why you were brought before her cousin.”
She paused, searching my face. All of a sudden,