certain it is imminent?’ He let the question hang in the air. ‘You speak heresy, too. His Majesty established the reformed faith as the one true religion. Anyone who veers from that, or seeks to make this kingdom a vassal of Rome, is a traitor to the state.’
‘But I thought . . .’ the duke began, staring at the prince in consternation. ‘Your enthusiasm for this match – and that with the infanta – led me to believe—’
‘That I was a papist too?’ The prince glanced at Frances, who smiled her acquiescence. Charles was right not to trust Buckingham with the knowledge of his private faith.
‘I was doing God’s will,’ the duke repeated, in rising agitation.
‘No, my lord duke. You descended to Hell years ago. You were damned from the moment you began to seek power, riches,’ he said, holding up his mother’s casket.
‘She is the sinner, not me,’ Buckingham cried, pointing a trembling finger at Frances. ‘Her allegiance to the old faith was once so strong that she involved herself in the plot to blow your father and Parliament to the heavens.’
His words echoed into silence. Frances saw the prince grow pale as he stared at Buckingham before turning his eyes to her. Next to him, Kate looked as if she might faint.
‘Does he speak truth, Lady Frances?’
She thought of protesting a denial, of railing against the duke for voicing such slander. But instead, she remained silent.
‘If she will not confess, then I will do it for her.’ Buckingham’s voice rose in triumph. ‘She even birthed the bastard of Tom Wintour. George Tyringham is not Sir Thomas’s boy, but the son of a traitor.’
Frances closed her eyes. She could not bear to see the shock in the prince’s eyes, Kate’s too, the revulsion that would soon follow. Neither could she stomach the triumph in Buckingham’s. An image of George came before her, his eyes filled with love as he bade her and Thomas farewell. Then he was a boy again, in the saddle as his beloved papa led his horse around the stable-yard. And now he was a baby cradled in her arms as she rocked him to sleep in her bed at Tyringham Hall. Now that the duke had betrayed her secret, George’s life would be blighted for ever.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she faced the prince at last. He returned her gaze, not with disgust but pity. ‘Leave this place,’ he said. Frances lowered her eyes to the floor, then made to walk away but Charles rested his hand upon her arm. ‘My lord duke,’ he said, more firmly this time. ‘Leave this place at once. Go far from here, before I change my mind.’
‘Your Grace!’ Felton objected, but his master raised a hand to silence him.
‘My father’s health is too fragile to suffer the shock of your arrest – for now, at least. I will tell him your mother has taken ill and begs your presence. You will not return here – and neither will you, Monseigneur,’ he said, turning to Châteauneuf. ‘The King is already tired of your presence and shows no greater inclination towards this alliance than he did when you first arrived. Tell your master he may send a different emissary, in time.’
‘This is all? You have accused me of all manner of crimes. Surely you would see me damned to Hell.’ Buckingham sneered. ‘And what of her? She is the real traitor in our midst. Are you going to set her free too?’
Frances forced herself to hold the prince’s steady gaze as he turned to her. ‘I have heard nothing but calumny and lies from you, Buckingham,’ he said, still looking at Frances. ‘Lady Tyringham has been more greatly wronged by you than I or anyone else – your poor wife excepted, perhaps.’ Kate flushed and lowered her eyes to the floor again. ‘They may choose to forgive you, but God never will. You have spoken with the tongue of the devil. George Tyringham was my childhood companion, appointed to serve me by the late Queen. If you slander him as the son of a traitor, you slander my mother’s memory – and call my father’s judgement into question too. That is not something he will easily overlook – even from you.’
Frances heard the bolt slide back as the marquis and his men slipped away. Felton pressed the blade against Buckingham’s flesh as his master took a step closer. ‘Now, go,’ the prince whispered. His servant reluctantly lowered the knife.
‘May I