Chapter Fourteen
The night that Minuette returned to court, William summoned her to play chess after dinner.
Elizabeth watched her go with a troubled expression; Dominic was nowhere to be seen.
As long as they played in sight of William’s guards and gentlemen in the presence chamber, Minuette was easy enough.
But all too soon William escorted her into his privy chamber and shut the door on the two of them alone.
“I missed you so much.” He pulled her onto his lap and momentarily buried his face in her hair. “As hard as it is to be near you and restrain myself, it’s infinitely harder to not have you here at all.”
“This is restraint?” Minuette teased, to cover the fact that her heart thumped irregularly.
He grinned wickedly. “I promise—when I am no longer restrained, sweetling, you shall know the difference at once.” He traced the neckline of her dress with one finger, and despite herself she shivered—and hated herself for it.
How could she be so furiously jealous with Dominic for kissing a woman who meant nothing to him when William, who meant so very much to her, could rouse her body even while her mind remained disengaged?
The damning truth was that she responded to William’s touch. How was she to stop it? Her mind, at least, always remained detached and ironic, making sarcastic comments about her behavior and William’s indiscretion.
But when Dominic touched her, she was incapable of thinking at all. And that’s your difference, Dominic. When you touch me there is nothing else in my world but you.
Tonight, as William trailed kisses where his finger had traced, Minuette attempted to distract him with a genuine question. “Why didn’t you tell me about Bishop Bonner’s execution?”
“There was no need. You would hear of it when it happened—no need to distress you beforehand.”
“You never used to trouble about distressing me. You used to tell me everything—well, nearly everything. I am not a china figurine, Will. You needn’t worry about breaking me.”
“Oh, I’m not,” he said huskily, and captured her mouth with his. His arms tightened until she found it hard to breathe, but still her mind worked.
“I mean it,” she insisted when he stopped to draw breath. “I wish you would talk to me like you used to. Or do you not trust me anymore?”
That startled him into releasing his hold on her. With creased brow, he said, “You know I do. You, Dom, Elizabeth—you are the only three I trust.”
“Then tell me the truth—who pressed for Bonner’s burning?”
“Look, the man committed treason in everything but the final action, he didn’t trouble to deny it at the end. He wanted me off the throne and Mary on it.”
“And you could have had his head for that. Why burn him at the stake?”
“A well-placed blow to heresy carries a long reach. I spared the young Thomas Howard, allowed him to be made Duke of Norfolk, and still the Catholics are discontented. And with the Dudleys behaving badly and out of favour, the Protestants are also restless and want to ensure that I remain firmly on their side. Bonner was trouble. I did what had to be done.”
She studied him intently, then nodded. “I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “No one takes advantage of me, sweetling. That’s my prerogative.”
“Is it? Then why is Eleanor Percy serving in Lady Rochford’s household once more?”
His jaw tightened. “She is nothing to do with you, Minuette. Eleanor is under strict instructions to leave you alone.”
“That’s as good as throwing fuel on a fire, Will. If she thinks you are trying to shield me—”
None too gently, William removed her from his lap and stood. “That’s enough, Minuette. Eleanor is my concern. But since you are so curious about knowing things, I will tell you that I have formally recognized Anne Howard as my daughter.”
Minuette thought of this little girl, not even two years old, caught in political and emotional forces that could so easily destroy her. “Did you like her?” she asked.
“Did I like who?”
“Your daughter. When you saw her at Kenninghall. Did you like her?”
William’s face twisted and he sighed. “I loved her, the moment I saw her. The child reminds me of Elizabeth.”
And of course clever Eleanor had used that resemblance to her advantage, Minuette thought cynically.
But William was right—Eleanor had given him a child and he owed her certain things.
And it wasn’t as though she herself was truly afraid of Eleanor Percy.
Although she’d wanted to believe that Eleanor had orchestrated the incident of the adder in her bedchamber, she’d never been convinced of it, and the dead rat in France was more evidence of Eleanor’s innocence.
She could hardly have left a rodent and a nasty broadside in Minuette’s chamber in France while she’d been at Kenninghall in the north of England.
William wrapped his arms around her and said softly, “Eleanor is in the past, my darling. You know that, don’t you? I am sorry to cause you pain in anything. It is never done intentionally.”
Something about the urgency in his voice and the way he held her more in appeal than passion …
all at once Minuette could see what had happened at Kenninghall as clearly as if she’d been there.
William had met his daughter, had been instantly smitten by her, and Eleanor seized the moment.
No doubt William had been easy to persuade.
Probably Eleanor knew how to touch him just so, how to encourage him to slip.
Unlike Dominic, William did not make a habit out of saying no to himself.
He had gone to bed with Eleanor at Kenninghall, and now Eleanor was back at court. Right where she’d always intended to be.
Could this be Minuette’s moment to tell the truth?
She imagined opening her mouth and pouring out to William her love for Dominic.
And she knew instantly that she wouldn’t, without exactly knowing why.
Because of the dangerous, royal fury that had sent Guildford Dudley and his bride to the Tower?
Because William had listened to Rochford and allowed a man to burn to death?
No. Politics had nothing to do with her silence.
She had kept this secret for months now, locked away so deep that even Dominic could hardly find it in her any longer, for the sole reason that it would hurt William.
More than just wound his pride or damage his ego.
You are the only three I trust. And with her confession, that number would be down to one.
No matter if William forgave them—he would never trust either her or Dominic again.
I can’t do that to him, she realized bleakly. Something has to break elsewhere.
His breathing ragged, William whispered, “I wish we could be alone tonight.”
“We can’t.”
“I know. Will you come hawking tomorrow? I’m taking the French ambassador out, but you can ride along with Elizabeth and no one will think twice.”
She shook her head. “Not tomorrow. It will be better for us both if I’m not there.”
He groaned and nuzzled her neck. “You are so good, Minuette. So good for me. What would I do without you?”
I honestly don’t know. And that’s why I’m lying to you and breaking my own heart as I do so.
“Courtenay, I’d like a word with you.”
Rochford’s voice was unmistakable, and Dominic stopped in his tracks. He’d been stalking through the corridors of Nonsuch, attempting to remember where he’d been quartered, while trying to ignore the fact that William and Minuette had disappeared after dinner.
The last thing he wanted was to spar with the Lord Chancellor just now. “Can it wait?” he asked, more abruptly than he’d ever spoken to Rochford before.
“If it could wait, I would not have asked.”
Dominic folded his arms. “If it’s to do with France, the privy council is scheduled to meet in two days. I’ll report then.”
Apparently more amused than irritated, Rochford replied, “It is to do with Mistress Wyatt.”
Dominic waited for more. It was never wise to anticipate what Rochford might be going to say; better to be certain of the specifics first.
Rochford obliged. “What did the French make of her?”
“The French find every female charming.”
“You know what I mean.”
Dominic sighed. He wanted to run his hands through his hair in frustration but wouldn’t allow Rochford that sign of discomfort.
“As far as I could tell, the French are content with the English respect offered their princess and expect her marriage to William to be celebrated in due course.” He left out Renaud’s hints about Minuette; he was not going to stand here and debate with Rochford the nuances of French opinion on Minuette as William’s mistress.
“What do you expect?” Rochford asked.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because you are the only man who might have some idea of how to stop the king from his disastrous plans.”
Dominic laughed bitterly. “If I knew how to stop William doing as he chooses, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I know England needs the French princess. Do you think I haven’t told him that?”
Rochford tipped his head thoughtfully, as though he’d heard something more in Dominic’s tone. “Tell me honestly, Courtenay—despite your personal friendship for the Wyatt girl, would you rejoice to see her crowned queen?”
Dominic met Rochford’s unblinking eyes and, as he’d been bid, answered honestly. “No.”
“Then I suggest you find a way to make William listen to you. The king has a brilliant mind and his father’s instincts for political survival.
But he also has his father’s stubbornness.
Of all his advisors, you are the only one to whom he might listen.
You must remind him, as many times as necessary, that he is meant to look to England’s interests. ”
Rochford nodded once, as though setting a seal on his orders, then strolled away. Dominic would have sworn after his retreating back, but he couldn’t summon the strength.
Definitely time to leave court. Tomorrow he would ask William for permission.