go home by river, though, and leave the horses until tomorrow.” Sylvie nodded and slipped from the room. “Your grace, what I had come to tell you is that, as you may have gathered, Lord Selby died last night after throwing himself into the river. The man’s last words were evidently ‘Lovell’ and ‘Chelsey’, and your servant was seen taking him to the inn. Robin— Essex—thinks to use this to discredit you at court, or at least keep you away for an extended time and involved in scandal. Oh, he’ll not say aught that you could challenge, or even trace back to him. But it could—will—get ugly.”
“I had intended to withdraw myself from court again. Indeed, I had not returned at all but that I got wind of your Robin’s plot to endanger the Queen and advance his position by rescuing her. Or by not rescuing her. I’m not sure if he knows himself which he intended,” I said. “You look shocked. Did he not tell you?” Southampton shook his head, his handsome face pale.” Well, perhaps then he tenders a better care of your honor than of his own. I learned of the plot from Roger,” I added, answering the unspoken question, and Southampton nodded.
“Roger,” he said flatly. “What do you intend to do with Roger?”
“Well, I do not intend to harm him, if that is your concern. You are welcome to stay and watch, if it will set your mind at ease. Although,” I continued,” it may not be pretty. I intend to find out his connection with Selby, and I expect it to be a twisted one. If you do not care to stay, you may come and collect him tomorrow.”
“I shall, or send someone. And you have my word of honor, your grace, that nothing I have seen or heard here tonight will be passed on.” I gazed at him, covertly noting the growing bulge at his groin. I knew that he desired me, then, as he knew I desired him, and that the knowledge left him flushed and shaking.
“I had not thought otherwise,” I smiled. “And it would please me much if you, too, would call me Kit.”
It was close to the laggard December dawn before I sought my bed, weary beyond belief. The story I had wrenched from the young man had sickened me. Roger had been lured into going to Selby for a loan by the man’s nephew Edward, at Selby’s instigation. It was not simple lust that drove the older man, but the corruption or perversion of innocence that gave him his greatest gratification, though in Roger’s case the intended victim had become the willing pupil. Selby had watched me at court, and the combination of my high position and the relentless sensuality of the vampire had aroused the aging lecher until the desire to dominate and degrade me had become an obsession.
My ultimate rejection of Roger without ever bedding him had enraged and humiliated the boy, turning him into a willing accomplice, fed on the promises of having me given over to his forcible attentions when Selby had finished with me. He had correctly concluded from the man’s last words that the plan had been put into motion that night, but had gone fatally awry, and he blamed me for the man’s death, thinking me no better than a murderer. He had not thought nor planned, had just found himself in the company of the three ruffians, and had hired them to “do a job of work” for him. He hadn’t paid them to kill, but wouldn’t have cried if they had. I took the memories from him, suggesting, and doubly reinforcing the suggestion, that Roger had come to Chelsey that night and drank himself into a stupor mourning his friend. He did not, and would not, believe that I had had anything to do with Selby’s death. He was given a large jug of sugared sack mixed with brandywine and allowed to drink himself into oblivion.
Before I could seek my rest, there was still the matter of the new servants to sort out, and I made my way into the large kitchen, where a husky-sweet baritone voice was singing:
‘To be a Scot’s whore and you’re fifteen years old,
And you were the fair flower of Northumberland.’
The last word startled me so that I swung the door open with far more force than I intended. I apologized and was given a seat by the fire and a cup of wine.