The Boleyn Reckoning (12 page)

“Those answer the political charges, Your Majesty.” Dominic always chose formality when about to disagree with William. “What about the matter of the monkshood?”

“Rochford had some interesting information on that matter. I do have an arrest for you to make, Lord Exeter, one that should please you. The poisoner was Lady Rochford. You may take my aunt from her quarters directly to the Tower.”

“Wait … what?” Elizabeth held up a hand as though trying to pause the flow of information. “Why would Lady Rochford have taken against Minuette?”

It was Minuette herself who answered, and Dominic could see at once that this was not news to her. “Because she is a trouble-maker for the sake of trouble. And perhaps, in some obscure manner, she thought it would please her husband.”

“That’s that, then.” William stood up. “Arrest my aunt, and then
you can go to Charterhouse and make Rochford deliver up the Great Seal. I won’t arrest him, but I will not have a man I cannot trust as my chancellor.”

“Is that all, Your Majesty?” Dominic felt unbalanced by the rush of revelations. Not least the fact that Minuette appeared to be up to her neck in bargaining behind the scenes.

“Once Rochford is away and his wife in the Tower, you and I will ride the coastlines and see to our defenses. You haven’t forgotten you are Warden of the Cinque Ports?”

“I have not.”

“And I can presume you have no objections to considering my counsel in the matter of our defenses?”

Cautious of William’s leashed temper, and yet irritated himself, Dominic said, “I serve always at your pleasure.”

“Yes, you do.” William looked carefully at each one of them in turn. “It seems to me that because of our long history and familiarity with one another, the three of you are too quick to forget my position. I am not a child to be coddled, nor a temperamental boy to be persuaded. I am King of England and Ireland, Supreme Head of the Church, the voice of government and power in this realm and that is especially true when you do
not
agree with me. Counsel me all you like, but don’t ever go behind my back in the feeble cause of protecting me.”

Dominic would have expected this last to be addressed to him, but it was Minuette on whom William had turned, eyes blazing ferociously.

Once, she might have laughed, turning the king’s temper to rueful humour. Or gentled her expression and offered her very affection as apology. Today she met William’s gaze unblinking. Dominic would have given a great deal to know what was going on behind those serious hazel eyes. With only a slight crease to mar her smooth forehead, Minuette said, “I apologize, Your Majesty.
I assure you, I know full well that my position rests entirely on your pleasure.”

And don’t you forget it …
 Every line of William’s body shouted the unspoken threat, and Dominic would have shivered if he hadn’t grown numb with misgiving. He hardly sees her anymore, he thought. Not as Minuette, the girl who had been his friend since birth, the one who could always judge his mood and make him happy. William now saw only the queen he meant to make her, and his jealousy was not so much about other men as the fear that he would not be able to control Minuette herself.

Dominic quite understood that fear.

Dinner in Minuette’s new suite of chambers was every bit as awful as Dominic had feared. He hated the forced intimacy of these gatherings, the way the guests watched avidly for every sign of affection between William and Minuette, just waiting for the opportunity to increase their own importance by having been in such close quarters with the king and his unlikely love. Most of those invited were well under the age of thirty, and though he was only twenty-five himself, Dominic did not like the careless frivolity of the younger courtiers. All they seemed to care about was being noticed and they avidly took note of the luxury in which William had settled Minuette. The plates were silver and the goblets gold, course followed exquisite course from pheasants to sugared novelties, and Minuette wore an ivory gown cut daringly low
that made her skin glow gold in the candlelight and made Dominic ache with the need to touch her.

But the catalyst of disaster turned out to be Margaret Boleyn. She was a lady of very great age—nearly eighty years old—and was great-aunt to not only William and Elizabeth, but Dominic himself through his Boleyn mother. Although her wits might wander, Margaret’s tongue was biting.

She kept calling William “Henry” and seemed to think that Minuette, for all her golden hair, was Anne. The family tolerated her lapses, for what could be expected of a woman who had been a child bride in the year that Richard III was defeated and the Tudor dynasty began? One who has lived so long must be expected to forget names and faces. Dominic wondered how many of the guests noted the fact that Minuette flinched every time Margaret called her Anne. Or did she flinch because William was unusually affectionate tonight, twining her hair around his fingers or resting his hand possessively along the back of her neck? Dominic marked every intimate gesture, and felt his control slipping.

As Margaret was helped from her chair at the end of the feast, the old lady motioned for Minuette to stand before her. Pulling her near with gnarled hands, Margaret peered at her closely, examining her up and down.

“Humph,” Margaret said in her creaky voice. “So he’s talked you round at last. Thought he would. No woman’s ever been able to stay out of Henry’s bed for long.”

The entire chamber seemed to hold its breath as William said sternly, “You speak out of turn, my lady. I am not my father. And Minuette is as chaste as ever she was.”

Margaret peered at him, gaze sharpening as her mind cleared briefly. “Henry’s son, is it? He’d be ashamed of you. Henry at least knew when a woman had been used. This girl’s been in someone’s bed. More fool you if it isn’t yours.”

As Margaret departed, a murmur of voices rose behind her. William was at Minuette’s side, whispering reassuring words about age and cruel tongues, and Dominic hardly knew where to look. The one place he could not look was at his wife.

“Well,” Elizabeth noted, “I don’t suppose Margaret will be asked to the wedding.”

William dealt with the awkwardness as he usually did, by ignoring it. “Find me musicians,” he ordered, and within five minutes there were violinists standing in the corner of Minuette’s presence chamber playing for the small gathering to dance.

There were more men than women present, so Dominic was not the only one to stand along the walls watching the four couples. He felt Minuette’s eyes on him several times and knew she was afraid he would take his leave before she could speak to him. But tonight he did not retreat. He watched her dance with William, every step of the pavane between them perfect and painful, and tried not to think too loudly at his king:
I’ve had her as you never will
.

He was not proud of that possessive instinct.

After several dances William said abruptly, “Do you not care to dance, Lord Exeter?” Dominic could hear the leashed anger and knew that the king had been more troubled by Margaret Boleyn’s nastiness than he’d let on.

Dominic was not in the mood to soothe his temper. “It needs the right music and the right partner, Your Majesty.”

William spread his hands wide. “Command the musicians as you will.”

All eyes were on Dominic as he straightened away from the wall. He kept his eyes on the king, knowing that William expected him to either apologize or back down. Instead, Dominic commanded the silent musicians, “Play a volta.”

William gave a short bark of surprise and perhaps even approval. “And the right partner?” the king asked with elaborate courtesy.

“Surely you can spare Mistress Wyatt for one dance.”

What could William say? It was you taught me that trick, Dominic thought as William passed Minuette over to him. Ask in public so that one cannot refuse without appearing childish.

His heart misgave him when he realized that William meant only to watch them, which meant that no one else would dance, either. It was reckless to the point of insanity, but as the violin played the opening strains of a volta, Dominic forgot to care. All he knew was that he was going to dance with his wife.

He had never danced a volta with Minuette. It had been years since he’d performed the rather risqué dance at all, but his lack of practice did not show. More than any dance, the volta depended on the connection between partners and that was so strong that he feared the most attentive might actually see the sparks between them.

This girl’s been in someone’s bed
. But not recently enough. The two years he’d waited for Minuette before their marriage was as nothing to the frustrations of the last five months. After those blissful wedding weeks at Wynfield Mote, enforced celibacy had weighed on him more than he would have thought possible. All he could think of was the velvet of Minuette’s skin, his fingers tangled in her hair, the length of her body beneath him, her breathless laughter giving way to little gasps of pleasure. It was distracting and infuriating and, when he lifted her every few steps of the volta, his hands curved to her waist and hip, Dominic thought that he would damn them both thoroughly by pushing her against a wall and kissing her.

When the music ended, there was a long silence as everyone waited for the king to speak. When he did, it was to the musicians. “You may go,” the king commanded. “The evening is finished.”

The guests departed in awkward twos and threes, no doubt eager to spread Margaret Boleyn’s slanderous words as well as speculate
on the naked tension between the king and his closest friend. On both matters, it didn’t matter if anyone believed them. It mattered only that they could repeat them.

All too soon it was just the four of them of old—Dominic and William, Elizabeth and Minuette. What would the king say now that they were alone?

It was not what Dominic had expected. In a conciliatory tone, William asked, “Dom, care to join me in cards tonight?”

He’s trying, Dominic realized. If he were wise, he would meet William halfway. But he could not be wise while desire pounded through him like a drumbeat. “I’d promised Minuette a game of chess. If it’s all the same to you, Your Majesty.”

He saw the flare of quickly controlled temper in William’s eyes. “I defer in all things to my lady.”

Dominic refused to look away as William gave Minuette a lingering kiss, letting jealousy feed his recklessness. The moment the king and Elizabeth were gone, Dominic opened the door to Minuette’s privy chamber. Carrie, supervising the clearing up the table in the presence chamber, closed the door behind them. He assessed the opulently furnished space—the gilded chests and rich tapestries and painted ceiling—and nodded once.

“William has done well by you. I suppose you’ve earned it.” What he meant was,
How have you earned it? What precisely have you done with the king for each dress and each jewel and each piece of furniture?