him an incandescent smile. "Thank you, sire! I must explain rapidly, for Rupert will be arriving at any moment."
"I beg your pardon!" King Henry exploded.
"It's part of the plan, Your Majesty! Please, hear me out!"
"Colossal nerve," he muttered under his breath while Micheline launched into detailed instructions of all that the king must say to Rupert Topping. When she was finished, Henry's mouth, which was quite small in his heavily fleshed face, curved upward slightly. "An interesting scheme, my lady. This may be more amusing than I anticipated."
At that moment a footman appeared to announce that Rupert Topping was waiting to see His Majesty. The king instructed him to show him up.
"Where may I hide?" Micheline asked anxiously.
"It's a warm night. Why don't you wait on the balcony," Anne suggested.
Quickly she curtsied and exited through the tall French doors. Micheline was backing onto the balcony, closing the doors in front of her, her heart pounding madly, when she bumped into a shadowy figure. Before she could scream involuntarily, a hand came around to cover her mouth. It smelled wonderfully familiar.
"Romantic, isn't it?" Sandhurst's breath was warm against her ear. "A moonlit June night, the Thames shimmering in the distance, the two of us alone on a palace balcony..." His lips grazed her temple. "The possibilities are intriguing."
Micheline heaved a gusty sigh of relief, turning in his arms. "Andrew!" She nearly laughed aloud in reaction. "How did you get up here?" The king's apartments were on the third floor of Whitehall Palace.
"I climbed."
Glancing down the sheer side of the building, Micheline ruefully shook her head. "I'm glad, then, that you didn't tell me beforehand. I'd have been worried sick!"
He smiled down at her as she put up a shaky hand and smoothed his windblown hair. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Rupert Topping entering the presence chamber. Sandhurst laid an agile finger over Micheline's mouth and slowly turned her around. He kept an arm curved close around her and she leaned back against him as they listened through the slightly parted doors.
Rupert was wearing an ill-fitting doublet of purple silk topped by a green jerkin trimmed with rubies and fox. He looked very hot and very nervous as he bowed before the king and queen. Every so often the right side of his face twitched as though it had a life of its own.
"I have come, just as you commanded, Your Majesty!" Rupert declared grandly, his voice cracking. "How may I serve you?"
"I appreciate your efforts, Topping. I know what a strain you've been under—what with Sandhurst's imprisonment and all."
"Such a tragedy," the spindly young man agreed. "I've scarcely had a wink of sleep, trying to deal with the misgivings I have about my role in his arrest."
"You were only doing your duty, weren't you? You were honor-bound to tell what you knew. I shouldn't feel guilty if I were you, Topping. After all, the crime was not yours but his. Correct?"
The twitch was spreading downward to Rupert's arm. Sandhurst listened to him blubber a reply, smiling to himself as he realized that the king was enjoying this little charade. He had the manner of a cat toying with a panic-stricken mouse.
"I hesitate to add to your trials, Topping," Henry was continuing smoothly, "but I received some news this evening that I thought you should hear."
"Oh! I say! That was very considerate of you, sire!"
"Sad stuff, I fear." The king leaned forward slightly in his throne, watching Rupert's face. "It seems that there was a fire at Sandhurst Manor—in her ladyship's bedchamber. Tragically she did not survive."
"What? Oh, my God! It can't be true! This is unthinkable!" Rupert staggered backward, clutching his heart and gaping at the king and queen. "She was so young, so beautiful!"
"Deplorable acting," Andrew whispered laconically out on the balcony. Micheline turned her face up and grinned in reply.
"It certainly is a tragedy." Henry was nodding soberly. "I was thinking that it might be best if you broke the news to your brother."
Rupert flinched in surprise. "Me? Tell Sandhurst? Oh, well, I don't know—that is to say—well, it's just that—"
"Good. You know, my sympathies are aroused by this calamity. I'd made up my mind that Sandhurst should go to the block by week's end, but now I'm having second thoughts. Perhaps the suffering he'll endure over his bride's untimely death will be punishment enough."
Perspiration rolled down Rupert's pasty face. "Very—uh—kind of you, sire, but—I just—that is, do you really think it would be