In a Treacherous Court (19 page)

B
ryan was a superb actor, but surely even he could not pretend such agitation. The man had gone from abject fear to anger more times than Parker could count since his arrival.

Beneath his hand, Susanna stirred in her chair, and he felt the warmth of her skin like a glow against his. Damn them all. He wished for nothing but the time to woo her.

“Your mission is personal?” Bryan broke through his thoughts with words heavy with hope. “The King has not yet sent you?”

“The King knows only the broadest details.” He began to trace tiny circles on her nape. “And this evening, he gave me full authority to discover all.”

“Parker, please, you must help me get out of this. I had no intention of betraying the King. Now I’m in an impossible situation. I’m ruined if I come forward, and I’m ruined if I don’t.” Bryan leaped from his chair and went to the window, peering through the glass and the wooden slats as if a spy lurked outside.

Parker considered Bryan’s tale. If he was telling the truth, it was a magnificent trap, startling in its brilliance. His respect for his enemy grew.

How many others were caught in the same bind as Bryan? How many greedy, self-advancing idiots at court would have fallen for a similar letter to learn something to their advantage at the docks?

Plenty.

Sooner or later, someone would talk and it would come out, and they would all look guilty. And the likelihood was they would be exiled, or sent to the Tower.

And in one swoop, at the King’s expense and trouble, de la Pole’s supporters would have rid themselves of the King’s men.

To work properly, to create the right atmosphere of distrust and tension, the King would have to learn of the secret treaty from a trusted source.

And that trusted source might well be the devisor of the plot.

“You have a safe place to stay tonight?”

Bryan had sunk into his misery, but looked up at Parker’s question. He nodded. “I have a mistress no one knows about. I can stay with her.”

“Good. Be off.”

Bryan stumbled to his feet. “You will help me?”

“As much as I can. But only if you truly are innocent in this.”

“Thank you, Parker.” Bryan’s bow was deep, and Parker noticed the man’s step was lighter as he showed him the door.

The cold winter wind swirled around them, and then Bryan was gone.

Susanna sat where he’d left her, deep in thought.

Parker knelt at her side. “Who was on deck with you when Harvey leaped aboard?”

She started. “Almost all of us,” she said after a moment.
“Doctor Pettigrew and I were watching the quay, and called out to the captain that Harvey wanted to leap aboard. It was then we noticed he was being pursued.”

“Who helped Harvey aboard?”

“Pettigrew. He leaned across and grabbed Harvey’s hand, then hauled him up. For someone of Pettigrew’s age, it was a great feat.”

“Do you remember what that archer said, the one who attacked us coming from Dover?”

Susanna shook her head. She could recall only the bolts deep in flesh, and the circling birds. All else was hazy.

“He said the man who paid him had old hands. And it has always seemed to me amazing that the archer who shot at you in the captain’s cabin knew you were there.”

“You think Pettigrew paid for those attacks?” She sounded stunned, as if the doctor had deeply betrayed her.

“I am convinced of it.”

“Then you are saying Pettigrew knew Harvey. Was there to make sure Harvey never made it across the Channel. And it was he who was standing behind me when Harvey gave me that cryptic message for his wife.”

“Aye.” It was the only thing that made sense. “And once we accept that, then there has to be a close connection between Harvey’s intelligence and Pettigrew.” Parker rose to his feet.

“What will you do?” Susanna took the hand he offered and rose from the chair.

He began leading her toward the stairs, and their bed-chambers.

“I will have to send someone to Dover to investigate. Simon, if he can go.”

She opened her mouth to answer, and he put his fingers to her lips. “But we have better things to do now.”

The Chiefe Conditions and Qualities in a Courtier:
To confesse his ignorance, whan he seeth time and place therto, in suche qualities as he knoweth him selfe to have no maner skill in.

Of the Chief Conditions and Qualityes in a Waytyng Gentylwoman:
Not to be haughtie, envious, yl-tunged, lyght, contentious nor untowardlye.

S
he stood in the center of her room and wondered why she felt shy. Half an hour ago, this man had been inside her, thrusting. … She clenched her legs together at the sudden throb between them, and lowered her eyes.

When Parker followed and closed the door behind him, some instinct screamed for her to run.

She felt too much. She had given herself with relish, with joy downstairs; but the illicit way they had taken each other, on a chair in the study with Bryan pounding on the door, seemed more lust than love.

Parker was ridding himself of his doublet, pushing the buttons out one by one, his eyes on her steady and warm, and she
knew he had nothing but intimacy in mind now. It made her knees weak and her heart thunder with panic.

“Come here.” He shrugged the doublet off and draped it over the chair next to her bed.

She grasped her hands together, wavering. Parker cocked his head to one side, and she watched him relax, hands at his sides, palms out. She could turn him away, and he would not force her or rail against it.

She did not want to turn him away.

She stepped forward, and he took her hand in his, drawing it to his chest.

Beneath her palm, his heart pounded, and she felt the rhythm matched by her own blood. His skin was hot, the warmth radiating through his thin cambric shirt and heating her hand.

She sighed.

He stepped in closer, then put his arms around her to work the laces of her gown. The rub of fabric on her shoulders, across her breasts, as he fiddled and tugged was exquisite. With shaking hands she pulled at the drawstring that held the front of his shirt together. Then she pushed the fine fabric aside and leaned forward to touch her tongue to his skin.

“Gods.” He jerked back. As he stepped away, her dress slipped off her shoulders, all the laces undone. It held for a moment on her elbows, and then fluttered to the floor.

He grinned wickedly, and the flame of the single candle on her dresser stuttered in an eddy of air, throwing shadow and light on his face. Strong, intense, and … happy.

She was awestruck at how Parker never affected his blank stare when he was with her. He gave himself, his feelings, into her care.

With a wriggle, she rid herself of her underskirt and then hauled her chemise over her head, standing naked in his sight.

His smile had gone. He reached out a hand and drew her closer, bent to delicately nuzzle her ear.

“I never stayed much in this house before,” he whispered. “It never felt like home. Nowhere did.”

“And now?” She swallowed hard, suddenly close to tears.

“Now I realize anywhere will do, as long as you are with me.”

Y
ou was followed yesterday.” Harry stamped his feet to warm them.

Parker rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin and watched the boy trying to warm himself before the kitchen fire.

He’d thrown stones at Parker’s window until Parker had heard the rattle from deep under the covers in Susanna’s chamber and went down to let him in.

“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” Not that he’d have been able to do any more about it than he could now, at four in the morning.

“Tried to.” Harry shivered and edged closer to the flames. He took another piece of cold lamb from the plate Parker had given him, and chewed with relish. “George was following
your follower. He waited hereabouts for a chance to tell you, but then you turned straight around and went out again with someone.”

“He did well to hang back.” Though he trusted Simon, Parker wasn’t prepared to reveal his little band of eyes and ears to anyone.

“Yeah?” Harry nodded. “He waited awhile, but you were too long coming back, for such a cold evening.”

“Mistress Gould do right by you last night?” Parker asked.

“Aye. Gave us a couple of rooms, pallets, and blankets.” Harry rubbed his hands up the arms of his new coat. “I’m just used to waking early in this weather. Under the pier, if you don’t, you might not wake up at all.” He was silent for a moment, then shook himself back to the present. “I couldn’t get back to sleep and thought I might as well come round and tell you the news ’fore there’s more eyes on the street.”

Parker gave him an approving look. He’d have liked a couple more hours in bed, but he couldn’t fault Harry’s logic.

Harry obviously felt warm enough at last, because he took a chair at the table, ripping into the piece of bread Parker’d put out for him.

“Give me the other news first. We can get back to what George saw.” Parker sat as well and stretched his legs out. Gods, he was tired. He yawned, covering his mouth with both hands. He wondered whether Susanna had woken yet.

“Busy night?”

Harry was laughing at him, the little bastard. With a look in his eyes way too adult for his years.

Parker gave him a halfhearted glare. “What do you have for me?”

“The cove who was following Bryan on the stairs of the palace, the one Will saw at Blackfriars, works for someone who works for someone on the Privy Council.”

He’d expected that, but it still felt like a punch to the gut. This could bring down a noble line. “Who?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. He met with a man, whispered something to him, and we decided to follow the new man—looked like he was the big cheese. He was allowed through some doors, and when we tried to follow, we were told only servants of Privy Council members could go through.”

“The messenger-boy disguise is working, then?”

“They don’t hardly notice us,” Harry said with glee. “An’ they give us food.”

As Parker had been paying their new landlady for meals, he assumed Harry’s delight was more in scoring an extra meal free than because he was going without. And by the look of him, he could double up on lunch for quite a time before it showed on his frame.

“Did George see who followed me?”

“No. Just saw he was behind you when you visited those courtiers’ rooms near the palace, and then followed you back here. The spy seemed to think you was done for the day, and maybe it was too cold or summat, ’cause George says he disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Parker sat up straight.

“Aye. One moment he was dodging from house to house
behind your cart, and then he just vanished. George said he was watching the whole lane, that the only place the cove could have gone was your own courtyard. But then you came out not long after with that other fellow, and George was too tired and hungry to keep it up.”

Dread clamped a cold hand around Parker’s neck.

He and Simon had always enjoyed an easy friendship. Whether Simon had followed them or not, that camaraderie would be lost the moment Parker asked him if he had. And the loss would be felt.

Parker stood.

“Where are you going?” The meal, warmth, and early hour had finally taken their toll on Harry. He was eyeing the thick rug before the fireplace with a look he usually reserved for food.

“To ruin a friendship.”