Bound to a Spy

by Sharon Cullen

  Alice stood back and nodded, a wide smile on her face. “I knew it would be beautiful on ye,” Alice said. “I just knew it.”

  Rose’s throat tightened and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Finally she felt like she could compete with the other lasses out there. But it was all an illusion. She was still the same Rose underneath the golden gown. She still liked to climb trees and jump over creeks and cuddle with her dog, Penelope.

  “Thank you, Alice,” she finally managed to say.

  Alice dipped a curtsy even though Rose was not noble and did not require such deference.

  When she closed the door quietly behind her Margaret advanced toward Rose. “What happened?”

  Rose took a wary step back and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Rose Turner. Something happened this evening to keep you from supper. It’s written all over your face.”

  Automatically Rose’s hands went up to cover her hot cheeks in mortification. “Can you tell?” she whispered.

  “Of course I can tell,” Margaret said. “Your lips are swollen, your cheeks are red and there is a glow that is coming from within you. Who were you with? Please don’t tell me Lord Lysle.”

  Rose dropped her hands to her sides. “Why do you not think it was Lord Lysle?”

  Margaret made a pffft sound and rolled her eyes. “The man does not have it in him to put that look on a woman’s face.”

  “And you know this for certain?”

  “Not from personal experience, of course. One only has to look at the man and observe him for a few moments to know that he would never let himself over to passion. And that, my dear, is what is written all over your face.”

  Rose’s cheeks were so hot that she feared they would burst into flames. Maybe she should be ashamed of her actions but she wasn’t.

  Good Lord, had Lysle seen the same thing in her face as Margaret had? Certainly not. Certainly he wasn’t that astute. Was he?

  “You cannot tell anyone,” she whispered, as if others were in the room and could hear them.

  Margaret’s eyes brightened and she bounced up on her toes as she clapped her hands together. “Never. But do tell. I’m about to burst with anticipation.”

  Still Rose hesitated, strangely reluctant to let anyone else in on her and Will’s secret. It was a warm memory that she wanted to cherish for just a little bit longer but she also knew that Margaret was not to be put off.

  “I was with Lord Sheffield.”

  Margaret’s eyes lighted. “Do tell how you came to be with him tonight. Did you…do it?” Her voice dropped at the last.

  “No. Well, yes. Sort of.”

  Margaret frowned. “Sort of?”

  “We didn’t do all of it, but a good part of it.”

  Margaret grabbed her hands and squeezed. “What was it like? I hear that it’s awful, yet I hear the servants talk and they say it is grand.”

  “It’s grand.”

  “I knew it.” Margaret was all but crowing. “When the matrons want you to not like something they tell you it is awful. Are you in love?”

  “Even if I were in love it wouldn’t matter. He is not the type of man my mother wants for me nor is he the type of man I want.” She felt like a traitor saying that about Will but it was the same as what he’d told her. “He’s not one to settle down with a wife. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He’s English.” But her words were ringing hollow to her own ears and she felt empty inside when she said them.

  “So you are going to pursue Lord Lysle then?” Margaret asked, looking confused.

  “I don’t know.” No, no, no. She wanted to scream. Never would she take Lord Lysle.

  Chapter 18

  By the time Rose and Margaret made it to the ballroom the formal entertainment had ended and the country dancing had begun, which was for everyone to participate in. Amidst much laughter and excited chatter people congregated at the middle of the dance floor to take part in a simple dance line.

  Mary was sitting on her dais, smiling indulgently upon everyone. It seemed that even though the baptism was a few weeks away the entertaining had already begun.

  Margaret and Rose migrated toward Emma on the other side of the room.

  “You’re not partaking?” Margaret asked Emma.

  “I prefer to watch. My feet can’t move like that.”

  Rose loved to dance and she found her hips swaying to the music as she watched.

  The cavernous room glowed with hundreds of candles. The swirl of the brightly colored gowns leant a festive atmosphere that had Rose smiling. This was what Rose had imagined when her mother spoke of court life—balls and vibrant gowns and people having a good time. Not the gossiping and jockeying for position and murder plots.

  She shook that thought away, determined not to let dark thoughts ruin her night.

  She hadn’t seen Lord Lysle and she was happy about it. She wasn’t ready to be on her guard with him yet. But, alas, her peace was not to last long for as soon as the dance ended Lysle was standing before her.

  “I couldn’t help but see you from across the room. You are a glittering jewel in your beautiful gown.”

  “Why thank you, my lord.”

  “I was not aware that you enjoyed watching the dances.”

  He offered his hand and she took it because it would have been rude not to.

  “Join me in the next dance?” he asked.

  Her gaze went to the people reorganizing themselves on the dance floor for another line dance, which would be safe for her since partners changed frequently and she wouldn’t be stuck with Lysle the entire time.

  “I would like that,” she said, her eagerness to dance outweighing her reluctance to be with Lysle.

  Lysle put her hand on his arm and led her to the dance line. Margaret entered the dance floor on Lord Smithfield’s arm and winked at Rose as they took their places.

  The music started and they began moving. This was to be a fast galliard, more complicated than the dance before it. Rose was relieved to realize that she knew these steps. The dance was vigorous, combining small jumps and hops so that a few minutes in Rose was winded, but laughing and smiling with the rest of them.

  She felt like a fairy sprite in her gown, jumping and kicking her heels up and laughing. She felt carefree and invigorated and, yes, beautiful. She felt her hair slipping from its pins but she didn’t care. She felt only the music inside of her, drumming its endless beat.

  To her regret the music ended and Lysle found her to escort her off the floor.

  “I’d say we should stay for the next one, but I am out of breath and in need of refreshment,” he said with a smile.

  “Oh, that sounds heavenly. The refreshment.”

  For once he wasn’t so dour and serious, and she quite liked this side of him. It seemed they had one thing in common—they both liked to dance. It almost made her forget that he was plotting to kill the king, but not quite.

  He trotted off to find drinks, leaving her to watch the next dance set up.

  “Beautiful,” a voice whispered behind her.

  She spun around to find Will standing there, his hands clasped behind his back, looking very handsome in dark blue velvet. His gaze slowly traveled up her body until their eyes met, his smoldering and holding memories of earlier and promises of later.

  “Will,” she said breathlessly. Her heart fluttered and she couldn’t help but smile. She had fallen for him, and there was nothing to be done about it except enjoy the time they had together and hoard the memories for when they finally parted.

  But that was another thing she would not think about tonight.

  “I was watching you dance,” he said, keeping a respectable distance. Anyone looking would think that Rose and Will were having an innocent conversation.

  “You were beautiful,” he said. “It was as if you were not carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  “For a moment I wasn’t,” she said.

  They fel
l into a silence as the music started for the next dance. A much slower basse danse. For a moment her heart yearned to be on the dance floor with Will.

  “Do you like to dance?” she asked.

  A corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. “I know how to dance but I can’t say I particularly enjoy it.”

  “Oh.” She felt strangely disappointed.

  “Does that upset you, my Rose?”

  “Not at all.” She liked that he called her his Rose. It was a simple endearment that held a double entendre. She thought that she would forever be his rose. “Why are you here? I mean, why aren’t you with the king?”

  “He has drunk himself into a stupor, angry and sulking that he is not invited to this soiree. This is just his thing, you know. At least that’s what he’s told me at least a hundred times. He’s in his element at these types of gatherings.”

  Rose grimaced. “Probably because there are many lasses for him to grope.”

  Will burst out with a laugh. “No doubt you are correct.” His gaze roamed over her gown again. “I would be careful not to let him see you in that gown. He would not be able to resist himself.”

  She shivered, unsure if he was speaking of Lord Darnley or himself.

  His gaze snapped away from her and he smiled. It was not the warm smile he usually bestowed on her, but a brittle, false smile.

  “Ah, here comes the indomitable Lord Lysle with refreshments.”

  Lysle nodded to Will, a cup in each hand. “Sheffield.”

  “Lysle. I couldn’t help but watch Miss Turner dance. Quite magnificent,” Will said, causing Rose to blush and become uncomfortable. What in the world was Will doing? It was almost as if he was challenging Lysle.

  “I agree,” Lysle said, putting down the cups on the nearest table and moving closer to Rose until their arms were touching. Staking his territory? Challenging Will?

  Rose wanted nothing to do with any of this. These two acted as if she wasn’t even here, that she was a prize to be had for the biggest, baddest and strongest.

  Suddenly her glittering, happy night was not so glittery anymore.

  Will tipped his head to Lysle and turned a smile to Rose. “I will let you two be.” He gave Rose a long, smoldering look before sauntering away as if he had not a care in the world.

  “I suggest you keep clear of him,” Lysle said.

  Rose looked at him in surprise. “Whatever for?”

  “He’s no good. A friend of the king. Or so he claims.”

  “You sound like you don’t believe he’s a friend of the king.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt that he and the king are friends. But no one else will befriend Darnley. Makes me wonder why Sheffield does.”

  Rose picked up her drink from the table and took a cautious sip, watching Will’s retreating back. He really did have the widest shoulders and that very dark blue was most becoming on him.

  “He’s not so bad,” she said.

  “He is friends with the king. That is bad enough. The king is out of favor in this court and treading on very dangerous ground.”

  Rose looked at him curiously. His words were heated and his eyes, which had been laughing and bright a moment ago when they’d exited the dance floor, were cold and unreadable. “Whatever does that mean, he’s treading on dangerous ground?”

  Lysle rolled his shoulders and smiled, but it was an empty smile, showing nothing but teeth. “Just that the queen is not happy with his behavior of late and anyone associated with the king is suspect as well. Including your friend Sheffield.”

  “That’s just silly.” Her ire was rising at the negativity spewing from Lysle. She felt a need to defend Will but also realized that she had to tread lightly so as not to cause suspicion.

  Lysle grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward him so that she could no longer watch Will’s progress through the room. His face was twisted into an ugly sneer.

  “I’m quite serious, Rose. You must watch who you associate with. The wrong person could ruin your reputation and any prospects you might have.”

  She shrugged his hands off her shoulders in an angry jerk. “Are you saying that if I speak to Lord Sheffield you will no longer entertain ideas of a future with me?”

  “Sheffield is a nobody and once this is all over he will drift away.”

  “Once this is over? What are you referring to, my lord?”

  He paused, seemed to collect his thoughts. “Why the baptism, of course. Once court life returns to normal he will disappear to some other court to live off the wealth of others.”

  She narrowed her eyes, not at all certain which made her the angriest: that Lysle thought Will was so beneath him or that he thought Will a barnacle on the underside of the palace court.

  “Really, my lord. I would have thought you would have more compassion for your fellow man.”

  “Compassion? What in the world does compassion have to do with Will Sheffield? He’s a man who cares for no one.”

  “And you know this for a fact?” She thought of the look on Will’s face as his fingers were inside of her and she knew without a doubt that Will Sheffield had far more compassion than Lysle ever would.

  Lysle flicked his finger in the direction that Will had disappeared. “Men like him are all the same. He will use you and discard you just like he uses and discards everyone. Come now, Rose, you don’t really think he’s here because of some warm childhood feelings toward Darnley, do you? He’s a parasite to the king and queen.”

  Rose made a point to look around the room of people gaily laughing and drinking and eating.

  “Isn’t that why most people are here?” she asked. “Don’t we all want something from the royal couple? Me a husband, you the privilege and rank of saying that you are a favorite in the court. We’re all parasites, Lord Lysle. Some of us more than others.”

  She put her drink down and walked away, angrier than she’d ever been before. What a hypocrite—talking down his nose about Will when he was here for the same reasons. At least Will was honest about his motives. While Lysle hid behind a cool veneer of respectability and a lifelong assurance that he was one of the privileged.

  Chapter 19

  Ladies do not stomp.

  How many times had Rose’s mother told her that as Rose went stomping through the house after some argument or physical altercation with her brothers?

  Tonight Rose had a very hard time not stomping out of the ballroom. She was so infuriated with Lysle that she noticed nothing around her, not the people watching the dancing, nor the people standing in tight circles talking.

  She was both surprised and not surprised when a hand reached out to stop her as soon as she left the ballroom. Will appeared at her side and guided her down the corridor, away from the ballroom, but not toward her chamber, where she had intended to go.

  He ducked into an unused corridor, pulling her behind him. They were now in a part of the palace under restoration. The queen was determined to return the palace to its former glory but, due to finances, was only able to restore one wing at a time.

  Will spun around so she was facing his glittering eyes.

  “You’re a virago,” he said, his lips twitching.

  “I could punch him in the nose,” she said between clenched teeth, her anger boiling over like a pot of stinking cabbage.

  “Whoa there.” Will took her tight fist in his hand and massaged it with his calloused fingers until hers loosened. “What did he do?”

  “He’s a…a…bampot.”

  Will chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in such a state.”

  “Oh, I’m in a state all right. That man is rude and obnoxious and how he thinks he’s ever going to find a wife acting like he’s…he’s better than everyone else is beyond me.”

  Will rocked back on his heels looking highly amused as his lips twitched in a suppressed grin. “So he wasn’t wooing you tonight.”

  She huffed out an angry breath.

  “Would you really have hit him?” Will a
sked.

  “I can do it. I know how. Once I sent John, my oldest brother, home with a black eye. Ma had to put a piece of meat on it because his eye swelled shut and he couldn’t see out of it.”

  Will pressed his lips together but could not keep the smile at bay this time. “What did John do to deserve such harsh treatment?”

  “He told me I threw like a girl.”

  Unable to contain himself any longer Will laughed out loud. Rose tried to hold her grin in but couldn’t contain her mirth.

  “He was shocked when I hit him,” she said, giggling a wee bit. “But I don’t know why. He was the one who taught me how to hit.”

  “I’m certain he never thought you would use your knowledge on him.”

  “Well then he didn’t know me very well.”

  Will half bowed. “A mistake I will not make, I can assure you.” He took her hand. “Come with me.”

  And she did because she realized that she would follow him just about anywhere. They walked deeper into the gloom of the unused corridor, kicking up dust as they went. Wall sconces were not lit and probably hadn’t been for decades but Will seemed to know where he was going and Rose didn’t ask. Her anger over Lysle was dissipating but only somewhat. His arrogance still astounded her.

  She’d met arrogant men before—her father and brothers being among them—but they had reason to be arrogant, having proven their worth in battle and during raids.

  Lysle had nothing to be arrogant about. He’d been born into nobility and wealth. Everything had been given to him. He’d earned nothing except for maybe a place in Mary’s court and even that was doubtful.

  Will stopped at a door and opened it slowly. The hinges squealed their protest and they both froze for a moment, listening. But no guards came running with their swords drawn. No gossiping lasses peeked around the corner. They were very much alone in this part of the palace and that pleased Rose.

  They stepped into what appeared to be an old sitting room.

  The window shutters were slightly ajar, letting in a sliver of light and revealing hulking outlines of furniture covered in dust cloths. The place had a feel of abandonment and anticipation at the same time.