In a Treacherous Court (23 page)

“I understand you are in trouble, sir.” Her gracious response had them all eyeing each other nervously.

“What do you know of our troubles, Parker?” Guildford asked.

It was an interesting little foursome, Parker thought. It did not seem they had confided in each other. Habit and the bonds of loyalty had drawn them together in their darkest hour.

“My lady”—he gestured with his hand—“the boor who just cut you with a knife is Edward Neville. He was with Francis Bryan in Paris many years ago, throwing stones at French peasants like cruel boys with the King of France.”

“We were drunk, Parker. We were fools.” Neville’s gaze slid away from Susanna, and Parker was pleased to see high color on his cheeks. Let the bastard squirm.

“Sitting on the floor is William Carey, George Boleyn’s brother-in-law.” The real reason Norfolk had picked Carey must be that his wife, Mary, had been the King’s mistress up until a short time ago.

“Then we have Henry Courtenay, Earl of Devon, the King’s cousin, and Henry Guildford, Master of the Horse and one of Bryan’s brothers-in-law.” They were a tight little group. All well-liked by the King, all perfect for Norfolk’s plan.

“Sirs.” Susanna curtsied, and his heart lurched. She was a rich tapestry in the flesh. Every color, every inch of her,
glowed bright. She did look like an angel before the jaded, ragged men before her.

“Mistress.” Guildford was the only one with the presence to bow. “You are saying you know we are innocent in this, Parker?”

“I am not sure of innocent, but I know you are no traitor to the King.”

Guildford sat down slowly, and Parker saw him lean back in his chair, the most relaxed he’d been.

“You were all chosen for reasons I think you can work out for yourselves.”

“And you? Where are you in all this? Who plots against us?” Courtenay spoke for the first time.

Parker shook his head. “Not against you.”

Guildford sat up straighter, suddenly alert. “Against the King? But how?”

“Think, Guildford. Soon, someone will talk, someone will find out about the de la Pole letters and tell the King. And one by one, he will send the culprits to the Tower.”

Carey moaned.

“Then, when he has rid himself of all his loyal supporters, when he is close to despair at the perceived betrayal, suddenly de la Pole descends with an army. And the viper within, the one who sent you to the docks for those letters in the first place, strikes in the heart of the palace.”

“’Sblood.” Neville stumbled back and collapsed on his chair. “God’s teeth.”

Carey moaned again. “I destroyed my letter—it is the only
proof against me. I thought the whole nightmare was over, but then I received a note under my door yesterday morning. It said a letter had been found addressed to me from a certain Richard living in France. That I shouldn’t be so careless with my correspondence.” He groped for the chair and pulled himself off the floor. “I burned that letter in the fireplace. How did they know? How do they still have it?” He sprawled onto his seat and buried his head in his hands.

“A good question.” Parker offered Susanna Courtenay’s chair, and she sank down on it in relief. His fury at Neville surged again, and he forced it away. “The only proof against you is the letter. Destroying it is all any of you need do to be free of this, if you were truly traitors, and whoever designed this trap knows that well.”

Neville cleared his throat. “I got a note under my door yesterday. Said the same thing as Carey’s.”

“But you did not destroy your letter?”

Neville shook his head.

“Guildford? Courtenay?”

“It seemed proof of some plan against the King,” Courtenay said, “and I wanted to keep it to show him, but also realized every finger would be pointed at me if I did so.”

“The plotter decided to show his hand. Increase the pressure. Prove to you that no matter whether you destroyed the letter or not, he has you.”

“You know more than you are telling us, don’t you?” Guild-ford watched him steadily.

Parker shrugged. He would not deny it. “I don’t trust you.
But I can tell you this: when the King feels threatened he lashes out, and I may not be able to persuade him of your innocence. So do not talk of this or do anything foolish.”

Neville nodded in agreement. “Not even your testimony will be enough to save us if the King feels cornered. No one will hear anything from me.”

“Come, my lady, we do not have a moment to lose.” Parker held out his hand and helped Susanna from her chair. As they stepped from the pavilion, he bent down and spoke softly in her ear. “It is worse than we imagined. These four are usually calm, steady men and they are near breaking. I do not like to think how close to the edge other, less stable men of the court are, who have also been duped.”

“You think someone will confess in his cups? Or behave like Carey?”

Parker nodded. That’s exactly what he feared. “This house of cards is about to collapse.”

T
he music was merry, and Susanna’s eyes were drawn to the players, sitting on a raised platform at one end of the room. With surprise, she recognized the flute player, a musician from Ghent she’d met at Margaret’s court. She dropped into a curtsy and he gave her a nod, trilling high and sweet on his flute.

Parker was scanning the room, his face set in stone. It was the most honest expression at the revelry. All around them people laughed and danced, but Susanna sensed a note of desperation
to the gaiety. It set her on edge and she smoothed down her dress, the finest in her trunk, and fiddled with the gold chain and pomander attached to the girdle at her waist. She knew she looked well.

“Parker.” A woman reached out and touched Parker’s arm.

She was the most exquisite creature Susanna had ever seen. She could picture the woman at a pool in some green wood, talking with the trees, rising from the water like a nymph. Susanna could paint the ash wood the same white as her blond hair, the pool the same blue as her eyes, the shimmer of sunlight on the water the same pearl as her skin.

“My lady.” Parker bowed, then took Susanna’s elbow and drew her closer to him. He seemed wary.

Susanna curtsied to the woman, who did the same. Neither lowered her eyes as custom dictated.

“You have been scarce this last week, Parker. But perhaps the lady on your arm is the reason?” The woman smiled beguilingly, and Susanna held back a gasp. Her beauty was an unstoppable force. She could surely tempt birds from trees and men from their common sense.

“I would like nothing better than a week to court the lady at my side, Lady Carew,” Parker said, calmly.

“You would?” Lady Carew was taken aback, Susanna could see it in the way her eyes darted away for a moment, as if to regroup.

“Aye.” He drawled the word. “But all manner of things conspire against giving me the time I need.”

“Well.” Lady Carew turned her smile upon Susanna, who found herself unable to stop staring, trying to imprint the way the mouth, the eyes, and the cheeks all moved together to create the impression of bright interest and pure loveliness. “It seems you have succeeded where many a lady of court has failed, mistress. For Parker has never openly admitted a desire to woo before. You must give me your name.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“For now, I wish the lady who has captured my regard to remain my secret,” Parker said.

“How ungentlemanly of you, sir. Those are not the rules of courtly love.”

Parker smiled. “You and I both know there is no such thing as courtly love in this place. The rules are followed, but they have no meaning. It is mere game-playing.”

Lady Carew’s mouth pursed in a pretty pout. “You would not let the King hear that.”

“I would.” Parker took a step away, Susanna still anchored to his side. “That is my strength. He would laugh. The veneer of courtly love is thin in this place. You more than most know what truly lies beneath the surface.”

Susanna saw the flare of temper in those pool-blue eyes, a quick downturn of the mouth before order was restored. “You are a boor, Parker.” All coquetting was gone.

“Perhaps. But an honest one.” He bowed a farewell, but as she turned away, he leaned forward. “Have you seen Fielder?”

A blue flame burned in the look she gave him over her
shoulder. She had not mastered her temper fast enough. “I saw him at the gaming tables.”

“My thanks. Please give my regards to your husband.”

It seemed he could not have said anything to make her more furious. Her frame shuddered as she suppressed her anger. Her hands clenched, her neck stiffened, her back drew straighter.

This was an even better painting:
Outward Beauty Fighting Inner Beast.

“Who
is
that?” She watched Lady Carew laugh prettily as a courtier raised her hand to his lips. She seemed oblivious to them, though a moment ago she had clearly wished them to the devil.

“That is Francis Bryan’s sister, Elizabeth Carew.”

Susanna suddenly understood why she had seemed vaguely familiar.

“She is also the wife of Nicholas Carew, the best jouster in England, and one of the King’s closest friends.”

There had to be more to it than that. “And?”

Parker slanted her a look, his lips quirked in a smile. “And the King’s mistress.”

The Chiefe Conditions and Qualities in a Courtier:
Not to be rash, nor perswade hymselfe to knowe the thing that he knoweth not.

Of the Chief Conditions and Qualityes in a Waytyng Gentylwoman:
To sett out her beawtye and disposition of person with meete garmentes that shall best beecome her, but as feininglye as she can, makyng semblant to bestowe no labour about it, nor yet to minde it.

C
an you see Harry?” Susanna’s murmur was discreet, despite the shrieks of laughter and shouts of conversation around them.

Parker shook his head, his eyes never still. This was deadly earnest now, and he worried Harry would be noticed by the wrong people.

He had accompanied them as Parker’s page, a pair of invisible eyes and ears, and Parker hoped he was invisible enough to escape harm.

He moved Susanna through the throng, avoiding, sidestepping, especially when there was a danger of conversation.

Why was he so reluctant to give Susanna’s name? Norfolk
knew who she was, and he was the danger. Still, Parker felt calmer knowing the vultures of court did not know her. Let them speculate. Let them gossip. She would be known to them soon enough, as the King’s painter at the very least.

At last they were at the entrance to the smaller chamber that had been turned into a gaming room.

“There is Fielder.” Parker spotted the yeoman as the crowd parted for an instant, and tightened his hold on Susanna’s arm. He shouldered through the crowd blocking the door, the gawkers watching fortunes made and lost.

“Which one is he?” Susanna craned her neck.

“Dark hair, tall, in green.” Fielder looked well. He was younger than Parker, and he had an excellent physique, broad in the shoulders, trim in the hips. But he also had the look of a man in trouble. His eyes shifted around the room, and Parker saw the moment he realized they were bearing down on him.

He froze, his eyes wide, then backed away from the table where he had been playing. As he spun toward another door at the back of the room, he knocked into a man holding a cup, sending him stumbling and his wine flying in a rainbow arc.

“Follow me.” Parker dropped his hold on Susanna’s arm and ducked into the crowd, half-running after Fielder through the throng.

He skirted a woman wailing as she dabbed at a wine stain across her bodice with a dainty white lace kerchief and pushed past a man muttering curses as he brushed wine from his velvet doublet. He could not let Fielder get away.

He burst through the door Fielder had taken and found
himself in a long passageway. Fielder was to the right, just turning a corner, and Parker flicked out his knife as he charged after him. He rounded the corner himself just in time to see the door midway along the passage close. A second later, and he would have missed it and run straight past it.

Making as much noise as he could, he ran to the end of the corridor, then walked back to the door in silence. He pressed himself against the wall, and withdrew his sword.