moment. Despite everything she and those she loved had suffered at his hands since he had come to the throne, she could not but feel pity.
A movement from the bed focused her attention back on the duke. She could have sworn that one of his eyes had been open a fraction, but both were clamped shut now. Nothing ailed him that a return to his master’s favour would not cure – and he had cleverly secured that. How she wished she could stop his breath with a draught of mandrake root or foxglove. She had both in the small casket she kept locked under the floorboards beneath her bed. It would be a fitting punishment for his deception. But even if the King did not accuse her of bewitching his beloved angel to death, God would never forgive her for such a sin. She must leave any retribution to Him alone.
‘You need have no fear, Your Grace,’ she said, rising from the bed. ‘The duke is in no danger. He fainted, that is all – perhaps it is the unseasonable heat. A little rest will set him to rights.’
The King’s face brightened, like that of a hungry child presented with a sweetmeat. ‘Thank you, Lady Tyringham,’ he croaked, swiping at his eyes. ‘I am more indebted to you than I can express.’
Frances bobbed a curtsy. ‘Make sure to give him some water when he wakes,’ she instructed one of the grooms. ‘Oh, and a large draught of woodbine – as much as you can find.’ She smiled to herself, though she knew she should be above such petty revenge. It was a small comfort to think that the duke would spend the rest of the day on the close stool.
‘How does the duke fare?’ Frances asked, as she handed her husband a glass of wine. It was with some satisfaction that she had learned he had been obliged to keep to his bed for the past two days.
‘Better for the King’s attentions.’ Thomas took a long draught. ‘But I fancy His Grace’s trust is not so blind as it was before Buckingham’s expedition to Spain. It seems his prolonged absence worked the opposite effect to the one he intended. The King learned that he could live without his favourite.’
Frances clasped her husband’s hands. ‘We must take advantage of this, Thomas. His Majesty’s esteem for you grows daily. Your modest, steady nature forms a welcome contrast to that of the duke. Little wonder the King seems ever more inclined to hunt.’
Her husband looked grave. ‘That may be true, my love, but I have earned His Grace’s trust by not involving myself in the intrigues of his court. I would be a fool to forfeit it by changing my stance now.’
Frances pushed down her irritation. She loved Thomas for his constancy, but it made him vulnerable to those with fewer scruples – Buckingham in particular. The duke would not hesitate to act against him as soon as the opportunity arose. But it was futile to try to persuade her husband to take a different course. If he will not act against the duke, then I must. For too long, she had watched Buckingham’s hold on the King – on the entire court – grow stronger, his lust for power ever more insatiable. He would not rest until he had destroyed everything and everyone in his path, plunging the kingdom into wickedness and sin. Surely the danger of opposing him could not be more deadly than what would follow if he was left unchecked.
CHAPTER 54
9 October
Frances stared in disbelief. Pray God he may be real. He took another step towards her, his smile now faltering a little.
‘Mother?’
She was in his arms, her tears soaking into his fine wool coat.
‘You will squeeze the breath out of me!’ he exclaimed, laughing.
Frances drew away from him and reached out to touch his cheek, as if afraid that he would suddenly dissolve before her eyes. She had thought of her eldest son more than ever lately. He had turned eighteen three months ago. It had grieved her not to be with him.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked at last, brushing the tears from her cheeks. ‘I thought you would be in Cambridge by now.’
‘And so I intended. But London lies between there and Longford, and I could not resist the chance to see you – Papa too – though I can stay only a few days.’
‘I am so glad you have come, George.’ Frances’s throat tightened.