Chapter Seventeen #3
He left Harrington behind to be his eyes and ears and voice with the armed men under his command and took a dozen men with him to Kenilworth.
It was a long day of riding made harder by slashing autumn rain, and, with the shortening days, they would have to wait until tomorrow to make the return ride to Dudley Castle.
Which meant spending a night in the same room with Robert Dudley, for there was no chance he would let Robert out of his sight.
Kenilworth was calm when they arrived and Dominic announced himself to a steward. The household looked a bit slapdash on the surface, and he suspected the servants were underpaid and lived more on promises of Robert’s connections than actual loyalty.
He was escorted into a solar paneled in dark wood and furnished pleasantly, where a woman rose to greet him. “Lord Exeter, it’s an honour. My husband didn’t tell me we’d be having guests.”
So this was Amy Dudley. Dominic’s immediate thought was to wonder what on earth had possessed Robert to marry her.
She didn’t seem the sort of woman who would interest the quick-witted, devilishly clever, sarcastic-tongued Robert Dudley—which meant she didn’t appear to be anything like Elizabeth Tudor.
Amy Dudley was rather short, dressed well if a bit showily in yellow brocade, with fair hair and penetrating eyes that seemed locked into a permanent suspicious gaze.
Though he could hardly blame her for that.
Any woman married to Robert Dudley who wasn’t suspicious was an idiot.
He bowed in greeting. “I had hoped to speak to your husband alone.”
He heard Robert clattering down the stairs through the open doorway and speaking even as he entered the solar. “What’s wrong, Courtenay? I know better than to think you’re here for a courtesy visit.”
Amy looked between them, and Dominic repeated, “It would be best if we spoke privately.”
“Why?” Amy asked. “Do you bring news from the princess?”
“Amy,” Robert said warningly.
“I do not,” Dominic answered. “This is a political matter.”
Was that fear in Amy’s eyes? In that instant, Dominic realized that she was more than just a jealous wife, touchy about her honour and position. She was truly, desperately, in love with her husband.
“Go on, Amy,” Robert said. She went without protest, but shot one, troubled glance back at Dominic before closing the door.
“What’s going on, Courtenay?”
“I have a warrant for your arrest, signed by the king himself. My orders are to return you to London at once to answer the charges laid against you.”
“What charges are those?”
“They will be read out to you in London.”
“In the Tower, you mean.”
“Yes.”
“So you don’t mind arresting a man without knowing the details.”
“I know the details. I am not at liberty to speak of them.” He would not let Robert goad him into an argument. For all he knew, Amy Dudley was listening at the door.
Robert rubbed his hands through his hair, obviously thinking. “Well then, I suppose I’d best pack for London.”
“My men will do that for you. You are not to leave my sight. Which means, I’m afraid, you will not be going directly to London.”
“Why not?”
Could it be Robert had not known of his father’s plans for Elizabeth? Impossible to tell. Dominic would wager Robert’s feelings for Elizabeth—however complicated by politics and ambition—were genuine, and it was hard to credit a man in love with an act that threatened her safety.
“I came here from Dudley Castle, where I was sent to arrest your father.”
“I suppose he didn’t accept that easily.”
“He didn’t accept it at all. Your father is holding hostages: Elizabeth and Minuette.
He has said he will bargain for their release, but only directly with William.
So you and I are returning to Dudley Castle to talk some sense into your father.
If, that is, you are concerned with Elizabeth’s situation. ”
Robert had gone very still, and Dominic was as sure as he could be that it was the stillness of shock. So one—minor—point in his favour. “What the hell is he thinking?”
“Your brother, Guildford, has been found guilty of treason and sentenced to death. I imagine your father is thinking of bargaining for his life. He should know better.” And not only because Guildford was already dead.
Dominic took a step, forcing Robert to face him directly.
“If you do not want a summary conviction of your own, you will come to Dudley Castle and help us get the women out of there without harm.”
A most unusual expression crossed Robert’s face.
He looked as though he were about to protest something Dominic had said.
But then a ghost of his usual mocking grin replaced the more serious look.
“The women, yes. I’ll wager my father has no idea that Elizabeth is not the truest prize.
Detaining his sister will rouse William’s ego, no doubt—but it’s Minuette he will kill to protect. ”
“If she is so much as scratched—” Dominic could not go on calmly.
“Elizabeth will see to it she isn’t,” Robert said dismissively.
“Frankly, Courtenay, I’m not so worried about the women as I am about my father.
He has badly underestimated his hostages.
It’s much more likely that Elizabeth will find a way to gut him than that he will be able to use her to his own advantage.
And because he is my father—” His lips twisted.
“I would rather he not be gutted, so yes—I will ride with you to Dudley Castle and do my best to talk sense into him.”
“You’ll be in my custody,” Dominic warned.
“I understand. When all this is over, there are any number of questions that need answers. I’ll gladly spill my knowledge once we’re in London.”
Under arrest, under threat of torture and charges of treason, and still Robert made Dominic feel that he was the one pulling all the strings. Would he never get a handle on the enigma of this man?