never know!’ she cried, so suddenly that Mary dropped the kerchief and stared at her mother, chin quivering. Frances smiled down at her and picked up one of the ribbons. The child watched, mesmerised, as she wound it between her fingers then tied it into a neat bow and held it out to her. Kate shot Frances a grateful look as her daughter took it with a smile and resumed her play. ‘No good could come of it,’ she continued, more quietly this time. ‘He sought to avenge my misfortune once before and might do so again. I could not bear to see him brought low before the marquess – or worse. He is no match for my husband.’
‘Once, perhaps. But now?’
Kate’s eyes were clouded with apprehension – and, Frances thought, hope. She opened her mouth to speak, but the door burst open and they turned to see Buckingham standing before them. Frances saw her own dismay reflected in her friend’s face. Neither moved as the marquess looked from one to the other, his mouth curling into its accustomed smirk.
‘Well, this is a fine greeting for a husband whom you had given up for dead.’
Kate rose quickly to her feet and swept a deep curtsy. ‘My lord.’
Frances remained seated as he strolled into the room. ‘Lady Tyringham,’ he drawled, coming to stop in front of her. ‘I hope you have not been filling my wife’s head with nonsense. She has been so biddable since she broke off your friendship.’
‘I should go, my lady,’ Frances said, rising briskly.
‘So soon?’ Buckingham’s eyes flashed fire, though his voice was soft as velvet. ‘Will you not stay and entertain me a while? I can hope for little conversation from my wife.’
‘Good day, my lady,’ Frances said, ignoring him.
‘Ah, well, at least you may save me the trouble of telling your husband myself.’
She turned to him sharply. Buckingham’s grin widened.
‘He is to have a new master while I am away. Lord Cranfield has kindly agreed to oversee His Majesty’s stables, arrange the hunts,’ he continued airily.
‘Where are you going?’ Kate asked.
Her husband continued to stare at Frances, his eyes boring into hers. ‘Spain.’
Frances thought back to her conversation with Salisbury.
‘The prince and I are going to treat for his marriage to the infanta,’ he continued. ‘He proposed the expedition himself, after so graciously persuading the King to order my release. It seems his father will refuse him nothing, these days.’
Frances reeled. Charles had secured Buckingham’s release? The prince had shown nothing but disdain for his father’s favourite, yet now he had not only saved his life but chosen him as a trusted companion for a voyage to Spain. Frances had heard it whispered lately that the marquess practised witchcraft to bend the King to his desires. Perhaps he had also used it on his son. She had all but disregarded the plan of which Salisbury had told her, convinced that the prince would never be persuaded to travel to Spain with a man he so obviously distrusted.
‘When will you leave?’
Buckingham turned to his wife. ‘I have only just returned to your side, yet you are eager to see me go again?’ he purred, pinching her chin between his fingers. ‘A week – two at most. Now, Lady Tyringham,’ he said, ‘if you will excuse us, I must make up for lost time.’
CHAPTER 50
23 May
The King took another grape from the bowl and glared at the young man who nervously plucked at the strings of the lute.
‘His Majesty is in an ill humour again this evening,’ Frances heard a diner remark.
‘Aye, and will be until his wife returns,’ muttered his companion. There was a murmur of suppressed laughter.
Frances knew they spoke the truth. Any hopes she had cherished that Buckingham’s hold over James would be diminished by his spell in the Tower had soon been dashed. Her husband had felt the effects of his royal master’s increasingly irascible behaviour. Ever since the departure of his favourite and the prince two months before, he had veered from gloomy introspection to petulant outbursts. Only when a messenger had arrived with news of them – or, better still, a letter from Buckingham – had his spirits lifted. Indeed, he had been so transported with joy when he had first heard from him that he had declared his intention to make him a duke. This was no mere impulse: Thomas had seen the letters patent that had been drawn up the following day.
But the King’s dark mood had soon returned.