The Raven's Revenge (33 page)

Katherine chewed her lip. She didn’t like it, but he might be right.

“Let me tell you about my master. I would speak to you about the things he would not. Nicky had a hard life as a lad. His mother died when he was eight. When he was eleven, he and his father exiled to Holland. I went with ‘em. Times were tough there, they were, and the old Earl saw the bottom of many bottles.”

Nicholas had told her some of this, but had painted a much merrier picture than the one Henry presented.

Henry continued. “It was hard on the lad watching his father kill himself slowly like that and not be able to prevent it. They lived in dreadful surroundings, one step off the street. Nicky fell to petty thieving to feed the two of them. When his Da lay dying, he made the boy promise to get the family estate back, and force the Puritans to pay for what they had done to him. Of course, the lad agreed.”

Katherine nodded, remembering Nicholas’s fevered ramblings when she’d found him in the cottage. That explained the Raven. An inventive and ineffective revenge, it still made a certain kind of sense. What would the old Earl have thought of Nicholas’s method? She could only think Nicholas’s father had something more conventional in mind.

“Then what happened?”

“The next years, Nicky floated from one place to the next, living off French and Spanish nobles, fellow Englishmen in exile, harlots and thieves. He became a man. A man without a home, without a family. And he came to believe that getting back his family lands would make everything right. And, of course, in trying to make it all right, he made it all wrong. He should never have done what he did to you. From the first, he should have told you his true name. He hasna the wisdom he needs to go with his guile, so he made a big mess of it. But he did one very right thing in all of this.”

Henry looked her straight in the eye. “He found you: his match. The other part that would make him whole. He rescued you from your home, and took you off on a wee adventure. Now ’tis for you, in return, to rescue him. You must teach him what honor is, because it’s not fulfilling a promise a young boy should have never had to make. It is fulfilling the promise he made to you in that church, e’en though we could barely understand it.”

Katherine looked away. She had made a promise too. Now that promise cut into her heart, but could she truly turn away from it and feel she was doing the right thing?

“In you, he must see the courage to love and be loved. He’s a man that does not easily know his own heart. He had it twisted when he was young—to lose his mother and then see his Da die like that.” Henry shook his head and scratched his chin. “I can not speak more plain. You are his last chance. He needs yer help, m’lady.”

Katherine chewed her lip. “I had thought providing testimony was all I could do. Now you make me think I have been looking at it wrong. You give me answers to questions I did not know I had.” She sighed. “My heart is heavy.”

“Look inside yer heart, milady. Listen to what it says. Do not turn it away from yer husband, or yerself.” Henry rose, nodding to her.

Katherine barely saw him leave the garden. She stayed behind, her mind reeling. Could she have been so full of her own pain, she not seen Nicholas’s? She shook her head. If Nicholas truly had not meant to hurt her, he had a lot to learn. But how would he ever learn if he did not have the chance?

Had it been fate that had brought her to him?

If it was fate, then it was not just his fate. It was her fate as well.

Katherine chewed her lower lip. More importantly, how much longer could she ignore the love for him she still held in her heart?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“HOW ABOUT THE PINK?” Alicia held an elegant silk-gauze mantua up to Katherine and examined it against her with a critical eye. “No,” she shook her head, and tossed it onto her bed. “It does not suit your coloring, nor mine either,” she sighed.

Katherine looked at the garment longingly. It reminded her a bit of the dress Nicholas had bought her. Yet, the color did not suit her mood. “Perhaps something bit darker? A nice brown?”

Alicia raised her eyebrows. “Brown will never do. At court, you must wear something gay. Let us see.” She burrowed through her wardrobe and pulled out another dress. “What about this?”

Katherine’s breath caught. Dark satin shimmered in the light, catching emerald highlights on a forest green. The gown was beautiful, and cut simply as well, without ruffles or flounces, just a bit of ecru lace at the cuffs and neckline. She held it up to herself. Other than its length, it would fit. She caught Alicia’s approving eye.

“I think that will do very nicely,” her cousin said. “It is a bit tight on me, and somewhat out of fashion, but ’tis simple as I know you like, and it suits you very well.”

Katherine ran her fingers across the cool, smooth fabric before trying it on.

Alicia marked the new hemline. That evening when they sat in the small sitting room before the cheery fire, the two women sewed the hem and made some other small adjustments to the fit.

“You will need a bit of jewelry,” Alicia said.

“I have never worn jewelry,” Katherine protested.

“Nevertheless, you cannot see the King without wearing a bit of flash and sparkle. We can take a look through my jewelry case tomorrow before you leave.” Alicia reached into her skirt and pulled something from an inside pocket. “You might wish to wear this.” She held her hand out to Katherine, and then opened it to reveal the Chinese coin on the fine gold chain.

Katherine gasped. “My coin! But how did you get it?”

Alicia dropped the trinket into Katherine’s hand. “One of the boys found it in the street after the fight. It was Jeremy who told me it belonged to you. I think your husband must have lost it during the scuffle.”

Husband
.

Katherine’s heart made an aching thump as the word echoed through her, reverberating down to the hand holding the coin. On the morrow, she would say that word to the King, avowing she had married of her own free will. She would tell him the evidence against Nicholas was a sham, and plead the King’s mercy for a man who did not love her.

Even if Nicholas would do nothing to change his fate, she could not leave it so. She would fight for him, because she loved him still. She could not change that. Nor could she rid herself of the pain from wanting her husband to love her, with a love that was stronger and more passionate than a pledge made to a sick dying father. A love above all else.

Katherine’s fingers closed over the Chinese coin.

* * *

They entered Whitehall through the Great Gate. Katherine repressed a nervous gasp as a footman helped her out of the coach. Opulently dressed courtiers mingled about, some out for a stroll of St. James Park. Others, apparently on business, walked with a more purposeful air.

The very simplicity of her borrowed gown, with just Alicia’s pearl necklace and emerald brooch for decoration, seemed to attract comment. Katherine straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. The curls at the side of her face bounced against her cheeks.

“You are sure he got the letter? He will come?”

“Yea, sister. I handed it to him. He read it, and said he would be here. I still do not know why you wanted him to come.”

Proving Jeremy right, Richard Finch separated from the crowd and came to meet them. He looked more resplendent than she had ever seen him, not a hair out of place on his periwig. Like a fine bird, his clothing was bright, colorful, and rich. He reached for her hand, but she clutched Jeremy’s arm, and moved a step closer to her brother.

“What is he doing here?” Finch glared at Jeremy.

“I have invited him to accompany me, as I invited you,” said Katherine, trying not to let her nervousness creep into her voice.

Before Finch could reply, James Pemberton came puffing up and Katherine made the introductions. James gave her a vague but heartening smile, and took the group inside the nearest building. They walked through corridors, rooms, and galleries, each more splendid than the last. Chandeliers glittered on high gilded ceilings. Beribboned courtiers stood about in clusters. Katherine felt more conspicuous than she could ever remember, but she pulled herself as tall as she could and forced her lips into a smile as they entered an enormous room. The buzz of voices echoed off the high painted ceilings.

“Ah, there he is,” James spoke into her ear, and nodded his head toward a cluster of people at one end. Katherine peered in that direction but could not see above the tall plumed hats of the men, nor around the wide sleeves of the ladies.

They made their way through the crush of people, into what seemed like an unofficial line, waiting their turn to meet with the King. A lump rose in Katherine’s throat. She told herself if she held her hands together, no one would be able to see them shake.

At last, they arrived before the great man. Katherine made a deep curtsey, surprised at her calm before the most powerful man in the realm. Her eyes rose over a magnificent peacock blue brocaded waistcoat, lace ruffed shirt, to dark curly hair framing a swarthy complexion, full lips, and dark but twinkling eyes. She felt a glimmer of familiarity and sensed, all around them, curious eyes and ears.

“Sire,” said James, raising his portly girth from a bow. “We are grateful for this brief audience.”

Charles smiled upon the assembled group. “I have heard there is some issue about Lord Ashton and an abduction?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Finch spoke. He made a courtiers bow. “’Tis shocking. I have a letter written by this rogue, a ransom note, bartering Mistress Welles for her property.”

Charles turned an appraising eye upon Katherine. “We are sorely distressed that one whom we did call friend has caused you such anguish. Shall we punish Lord Ashton for the trouble he has caused?”

Katherine could barely speak for the anxiety that rose up from her very feet and flooded through her body. “Your Majesty,” she said, lifting her eyes up to his for but a moment, “’twas not an abduction or a kidnapping for I went of my own free will.”

Finch made a sharp indrawn breath.

“I sense a gentle heart within you,” said the King. “But if Lord Ashton has caused you harm, then harm should come to him.”

“Majesty,” Katherine met his eyes again. He gazed down upon her with a warm curiosity, and she felt emboldened to continue. “I cannot say he has not caused me harm, for my heart is sorely wounded. Yet, I cannot see him punished for the wrong offense. I do not think there is a law against breaking a woman’s heart.”

Charles reached a bejeweled hand to her chin, and raised it up with a long finger. He gave her a sad smile, and then a sparkle lit his eyes.

“’Od’s fish, Madam. Did you bring your cat? But then my spaniels are not here, so I think you would not give me such a merry chase as you did last time we met.”

Katherine’s eyes grew wide. Now she knew where she had seen him. Running after half a dozen yapping dogs! And then she broke into a smile, recalling the comical expression on his face when she and Montford had taken off down the hall.

The King nodded. “I do believe you went with him willingly. Else you could have left him when I saw you.”

“Yea, Sire, it is so. Although he kept me ignorant of his true name and motive, I did seek his aid to leave my home before I could be married to my neighbor.” She nodded at Finch.

“You did not consent to that match?”

“I wished completely to avoid it.”

Charles took his hand from Katherine’s chin and she swallowed. He turned his attention to Finch.

“What say you to this new accusation? Did you seek to wed this woman without her consent?”

“’Twas her father’s wish that we wed,” Finch sputtered. “It had been arranged, the settlements agreed upon.”

“And did you not seek to woo her?”

“Yea, Majesty. I did most heartily.”

“Yet, I wonder, did you not perhaps seek to woo her property more than her heart, and thereby miss the mark?” Charles chuckled at his own joke. “You will find that ladies are wont to be agreeable when you are more congenial.” He turned dismissively from Finch back to Katherine.

“So I must punish the rogue for breaking your heart,” he brought a hand to his chin and paused, thinking. “Shall it be transportation? Death? What say you, Lady Ashton?”

“Sire, my husband is a prankster, as I think you already know.”

“Indeed, his latest mischief vexes me sorely.”

“I find it so myself,” Katherine agreed. “Yet, I plead for clemency. His crimes as the Raven were meant as a jest. He caused embarrassment, but not harm. Although he should have his hand slapped, twould be a pity to see it cut off.”

“And Ashfield? What say you to that? He had petitioned for its return.”

“Ashfield belongs to my father. I never wished to be heiress to it. My mother provided me with an adequate dowry, and my brother Edward was to inherit, but he died.” She took a deep breath. “My other brother, Jeremy,” she tipped her head at him, “should be the one to inherit, as is proper for a son.”

Gasps and indrawn breaths accompanied Katherine’s pronouncement, and she was dimly aware of heads turning toward them. Nearby, voices quieted. Jeremy’s face turned noticeably white as he looked around their immediate circle. 

Finch’s mouth twisted in grievous displeasure. “It cannot be true,” he said, “and if so, has no merit.” He turned to James. “The boy is clearly a bastard, and bastards do not inherit.”

“There is no doubt in my heart,” Katherine spoke up. “Jeremy is my brother. And although he was not to speak of it, there was no such restraint put on me.”

James coughed. “A
filius nullius
has no legal right to inherit. Yet, it might be possible, should your majesty see fit to allow it, as there is no entail on the property.”

“
You
cannot have Ashfield!” Finch advanced on Jeremy.

Jeremy did not move. His eyes sparkled, whether with tears, anger, amusement, or some combination of the three, Katherine could not tell. “I will do what is best for Lady Ashton,” he said. “And for my family.”

“You have no right! No right at all! The property was to come to me. ’Twas arranged—“