The reality of the cloak she wore seeped into his drowsy senses, and he opened his eyes. Predawn light kept the chamber eerily shadowed. “What time is it?”
“Six o’clock,” she answered.
“Nobody rises at six o’clock.”
“I do.”
“If you’re planning to run away,” Richard said, eyeing her with feigned suspicion, “please wait for a later hour. Chasing you to the stables in the middle of the night tires me.”
Keely planted a kiss on his lips. “Rhys leaves for Wales at dawn. I want to bid him a safe journey.”
Richard yawned and stretched. “Very well, I’ll accompany you. I do hope you appreciate my sacrifice in rising at this ungodly hour.”
“If you refrained from drinking and gambling half the night with my father,” Keely said, arching an ebony eyebrow at him, “you might appreciate the serenity of the morning.”
“Only those with no prospects appreciate morning’s serenity.” Richard moved as if to rise. “The truly shrewd like me use the court’s nightly entertainments to conduct business.”
“Modesty becomes you.” Keely pressed him back on the bed with the palm of her hand.
“Let me up, dearest. Walking alone to the stables at this hour can be dangerous.”
“Stay where you are. Roger has agreed to escort me.”
“Who has?”
“Roger DeBrett, my favorite page.”
“Isn’t he the brat who boosted you over the wall?”
Keely nodded.
“Hurry back,” Richard said, his voice husky. “I have a magnificent Christmas gift for you.”
“What is it?”
“The same thing I have for your New Year’s gift.”
“Which is?”
Richard guided her hand to his groin. “Morning cock.”
“Lecher.” Keely planted a quick kiss on his lips and left the chamber.
Waiting for her in the corridor, Roger gave Keely a sleepy smile of greeting when she appeared. Together, the countess and the page made their way through the maze of Hampton Court’s dimly lit corridors. The closer Keely got to the world outside the palace walls, the faster she walked. Anticipation surged through her body. She hadn’t felt the rising sun on her face in months. Except through a window.
Bursting through the door to the grounds outside, Keely felt she had entered a whole new world. In spite of the earliness of the hour, myriad people bustled about. Arriving and departing noblemen with their families hurried back and forth across the winter-gray lawns, servants prepared for their masters’ awakening, and purveyors of every bauble imaginable readied themselves for another profitable day. Brightening the eastern horizon, fingers of orange light reached for the world. This Christmas promised to be a day of incomparable beauty—spectacular sunshine, heavenly blue skies, crisp air.
Keely breathed deeply of the winter’s pristine air. Mornings like this made her yearn to worship in her own special way. Life at the Tudor court was long on luxury but short on privacy.
“What‘s the latest gossip?” Keely asked as they crossed the lawns in the direction of the stables.
“I heard that Lady Jane slept with someone other than her husband last night,” Roger answered.
Keely cast the boy a sidelong glance. She had no wish to hear about Lady Jane’s latest conquest.
Roger missed the meaning of her look and continued, “That particular killer lamb becomes bolder by the day. Or should I say ‘bolder by the night’?”
“’Tis unkind of you to bandy such tales about,” Keely said, suppressing a smile. Though she harbored no special regard for her husband’s former mistress, Keely felt obligated to guide a boy of Roger‘s tender years onto a more virtuous path. That a twelve-year-old should speak so casually of adultery was unseemly.
“Jane’s penchant for bending the marriage vows is common knowledge,” Roger said. “I also heard your cousins and your tiringwomen have become quite close.”
Keely nodded. “Yes, they’ve become remarkable friends.”
“I’d say intimate best describes their relationships.”
Keely snapped her head around to look at him. “Do you mean—?”
“Exactly.”
In the stableyard, Odo and Hew stood on either side of Rhys’s stallion and verified that all was in readiness for traveling. Rhys smiled when he spied his sister. “I knew you’d come.” He gathered her into his arms and gave her a hug.
“I miss you already,” Keely said, her eyes brimming with tears. “You will be careful?”
Rhys nodded. “Remember, sister. You always have a home with me in Wales.”
“Thank you, brother.” Keely cast her cousins a sidelong glance. “Too bad you cannot stay to see Odo and Hew married.”
“What?” Odo exclaimed.
“Wedding?” Hew cried.
Keely ignored their outbursts.” They’ve enjoyed their wedding nights with my tiringwomen,” she told her brother. “Now the married life awaits them.”
“I’m certain they’ll be happy husbands before I reach Wales,” Rhys said, smiling. “You will send word as soon as the babe is delivered?”
“Of course.” Reluctant to let him go, Keely rested her head against his chest.
“Bid Morgana farewell for me,” Rhys said. “Tell the duke I have an interest in his daughter and will write to him at first opportunity.”
“’Twould be matrimonial suicide to marry her,” Keely said. “Besides, my sister loves the courtier’s life too much to marry you and live in Wales.”
“Morgana is merely high-spirited. She needs a strong man to tame her.”
“I suppose you know what’s best for you,” Keely said. “You always did love a challenge.”
Brother and sister embraced a final time. Rhys planted a kiss on her forehead, set her away from him, and mounted his horse.
“Godspeed,” Keely stood in the stableyard and watched her brother until he disappeared from sight. Fat teardrops streamed down her cheeks, but she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Loss is the only sure thing in life. Megan, Rhys, and Merlin had vanished from her life. In their places she’d gained Richard, Duke Robert, Henry, and Lady Dawn.
Keely gave herself a mental shake and rounded on Odo and Hew. “I refuse to let you dishonor my husband’s cousins,” she said. “Prepare yourselves for your wedding day. Come, Roger.”
Instead of returning directly to the palace, Keely and Roger strolled across the lawns. The boy’s downcast expression told Keely that something was troubling him. The two of them sat on a stone bench in a deserted section of the grounds.
“My lady, I need your help,” Roger blurted out.
“In what way?”
“The other pages do clamor for my skin.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I charged each page a gold coin to accompany me on a tour of the haunted Long Gallery,” Roger told her. “Your ghost never appeared, and the boys are demanding the return of their money.”
Keely bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“What am I to do? The gold is gone,” Roger moaned. “I wondered would you accompany us to the Long Gallery and conjure that spirit? My father would be grateful to you for saving his heir’s life.”
“On what did you waste the gold?” Keely asked, hoping she sounded suitably stern.
“I never wasted it,” Roger answered. “I invested all but one gold piece in your husband’s Levant Trading Company. When I’m older, I want to be just like the earl.”
Keely did smile then. Through Roger and his money-making scheme, she saw the image of what her husband must have been like as a boy. Keely supposed she ought to help him out of his predicament.
“How did you spend the uninvested gold piece?”
“I bought an aphrodisiac.”
“What’s that?”
Roger blushed. “A love potion to make a woman desire me.”
Now it was Keely’s turn to blush.
Was that the only thing the males of the species ever sought? The queen had been correct. Men did think with their pricks.
“Blushing is unnecessary,” Roger said, sounding like an experienced man of the world. “Love-making is a natural part of life.”
Keely rolled her eyes. “From what is this love potion made?”
“The apothecary said there are many different kinds,” Roger answered. “I purchased brains of partridge calcinated into powder and swallowed with red wine.”
Keely gulped back the nausea rising in her throat. “Did it work?”
Richard flicked her a wicked grin. And that effectively answered her question.
“Who was the lucky lady?”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
Trying to discourage the boy’s immoral endeavors, Keely hid a smile and turned her head. Not ten yards away stood double rows of hedges. Her gaze drifted past them and then returned to a gleaming object that lay beneath one of them. It appeared to be a blade reflecting the newly risen sun.
“What is that over there?” she said, standing.
Keely crossed the short distance between the bench and the hedges. Roger followed two steps behind her.
Keely screamed and fell to her knees. Hidden between the rows of hedges lay the lifeless body of a woman.
While Keely covered her mouth and gagged, Roger shouted, “Help! Guards! Murder!”
Within mere seconds, pandemonium ensued. The palace guards arrived on the run. Close behind them followed curious nobles and servants.
At their captain’s order, several guards held the gathering crowd at bay. Two others dragged the woman's body from between the hedges.
Keely nearly swooned at the sight of Lady Jane’s battered face. Standing beside her, Roger put his arm around her shoulders and held her steady against his legs. The captain of the guard stepped forward to inspect the body. A hushed silence fell over the crowd, the only sound being whispered words relaying the dead woman’s identity.
“Lady Devereux?”
Keely looked up at the captain.
“Do you recognize these?” he asked, holding his hands out.
Keely stared in surprise at what he held. Both the jewel-hilted dagger and the gold button bore her husband's insignia. Keely tried to speak, to refute what she was seeing, but no words came out of her mouth.
“Lady Jane was Basildon’s mistress, wasn’t she?” the captain asked.
“My husband keeps no mistress,” Keely said. “Hurting a woman is beyond the earl’s capabilities. Besides, he passed the night in our bed.”
“Queen Elizabeth will decide where and how Basildon entertained himself last night.” The captain turned his back and walked away.
Keely dropped her gaze to the woman’s battered face. She knew that Richard was incapable of so vile an act. Whoever poisoned Merlin had murdered Lady Jane and left Richard’s belongings beside the body.
“Beware the blacksmith . . .” Megan’s dark prophecy came rushing back to Keely. Who was the blacksmith?
Basildon. Basildon. Basildon. The angry murmurings of the crowd echoed in her ears until she slumped against Roger in a dead faint.
* * *
Keely sat on her husband’s lap in the chair in front of the fireplace in their chamber. Resting her head against his shoulder, she stared into the hearth’s flames and pondered her marital dilemma. Though she would never be accepted into this English society, Keely knew she could never return to Wales and leave her husband behind. Not in his hour of need. Not ever.
“’Twas a gruesome sight,” Keely told him, her voice a horrified whisper. “Her face was battered, and a huge welt circled her neck.”
“Hadn’t her throat been slashed?” Richard asked.
“She’d been strangled with that necklace you gave her,” Keely answered, her voice cracking with emotion on the word strangled.
“Dearest, clear your mind,” Richard soothed, planting a kiss on the crown of her head. “Reliving the murder scene can hardly be healthy for the babe.”
“Whoever poisoned Merlin meant to dispatch you,” Keely said. “I’m afraid he found another way to get rid of you.”
“You’ve figured that out too?” The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “You’re too smart by half, dearest.”
Do you have any idea who’d want you dead?” Keely asked.
Richard sighed. “Any number of courtiers would like to see me vanish permanently.”
“If we’d walked Merlin through Devereux House the day after our wedding, this would never have happened.”
“Probably not, but we’d be knee-deep in horse shit.”
Keely gave him an unamused look. “If we cast the sacred circle, the Goddess will share her wisdom.”
“Why don't you kiss me instead?”
“Be serious.” His lack of concern irritated her.
“A dagger and a button prove nothing,” Richard said. “Besides, Elizabeth knows her personal finances will suffer if she executes me.”
“The blacksmith murdered Jane,” Keely said. “Do you know who he is?”
Richard looked confused.
“Whatever Megan saw came to pass,” Keely explained. “On her deathbed, she told me: ‘Walk among the powerful, but find happiness where the birch, the yew, and the oak converse. Trust the king who wears a flaming crown and possesses the golden touch. Beware the blacksmith.’
“Queen Elizabeth is the powerful one,” she continued. “The birch, the yew, and the oak converse together in your garden. You are the king who wears the flaming crown.”
Richard grinned. “I’m an earl, sweetheart, not a king.”
“All of England calls you Midas.”
Richard lost his smile. A grain of truth lay in what she said. Perhaps her mother had possessed a special talent to foresee future events. A few rare people did enjoy such a gift. But if that were true, who was the blacksmith?
“When we visited the Tower, Queen Anne’s spirit warned, ‘Beware the blacksmith,’” Keely went on. “My mother warned me again on Samhuinn. If only—”
A knock on the door interrupted her words.
“They’ve come for you,” Keely cried, her voice rising as she clutched her husband.
Richard wrapped his arms around her and called out, “Who’s there?”
The door opened slowly. Willis Smythe peered into the room. “May I come in?”
Richard stared at his former friend for a long moment. Then he nodded permission to enter.
Secure in her husband’s embrace, Keely flicked a troubled glance at the baron. Looking at him disturbed her peace of mind. With his blue eyes and his black hair, Smythe was handsome enough, but that aura of untimely death surrounded him like a shroud. Keely felt in her Druid bones that the baron’s demise was fast approaching. What appeared to be a misty black cloud hovered over his head.
“How can I help?” Willis asked, standing near the hearth. Concern etched itself across his features. “Is there anyone you’d like me to question?”
“I have no idea with whom Jane was involved,” Richard said.
Willis nodded. “Is there aught I can do to ease matters?”
Richard shook his head. Smythe had been his closest friend since they’d fostered together at Burghley’s. Remorse for distrusting Willis coiled around Richard’s heart.
“I heard that Jane was strangled with her own necklace,” Willis said, his voice low.
“Keely told me,” Richard said. “I believe whoever poisoned my wife’s horse also murdered—”
A knock on the door interrupted his words. Keely gasped. Richard and Willis snapped their heads around to stare at the door.
Duke Robert and Lady Dawn burst into the chamber. Both Richard and Willis relaxed. Keely released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Keely rose from her husband’s lap and flew into her father’s arms. Richard stood and shook his father-in-law’s hand.
“Oh, my poor dears,” Lady Dawn gushed
. “What an unfortunate misunderstanding.”
“Elizabeth is meeting with her advisers,” Duke Robert told them. “Dudley is bent on convincing her to lock you in the Tower.”
“No, they can’t,” Keely cried.
“Becoming upset won’t help,” Lady Dawn said, giving her a comforting hug.
“I have faith in Elizabeth's judgment,” Richard said.
“Dudley paints you to be a demented monster. He’s insisting you tried to poison Keely and then strangled Jane,” Duke Robert informed them. “Burghley is arguing that anyone could have murdered Jane, especially a jealous husband who wearied of his young wife’s infidelities.”
“One of her lovers could have done it,” Willis added.
“Whoever killed Jane stole my dagger and insignia button,” Richard said. “Cold-blooded design spawned the deed, not passionate outrage.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Everyone turned to stare in horror at the door as if the wooden structure had become a deadly dragon. Keely threw herself into her husband’s arms in an effort to protect him from whatever lay beyond the door.
“Basildon!” the Earl of Leicester called from the corridor. “By the authority of Her Majesty, I charge you to surrender yourself to the Crown’s justice.”
Richard nodded at his father-in-law. Duke Robert stepped forward and opened the door. Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester, swaggered into the room. Behind him walked Lord Burghley, who appeared unhappy.
“Remain in the corridor,” Duke Robert ordered the queen’s men.
The soldiers looked at Dudley, who glanced over his shoulder and nodded at them. Duke Robert closed the door.
“Quite a little gathering,” Dudley remarked with a smile of immense satisfaction.
“I assume I’m to accompany you to the Tower,” Richard said. “Give me five minutes to pack a few necessities.”
Dudley nodded his permission.
“Papa, do something,” Keely cried. People died in the Tower, and she refused to let its gray stone walls swallow her husband and trap him there with those tormented souls.
“Dearest, help me pack,” Richard said, putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her across the chamber.
“This is an outrage,” Duke Robert insisted. “Richard never killed anyone.”
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