In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  The earl was making Lizzy's head hurt.

  Mr. Gordy lowered the candlestand. "My lord, let me take care of this matter. I should—"

  "I said, what have we found here?" The earl shouted so loudly this time that the veins on his shiny forehead popped out like blue worms. He grabbed Lizzy by the hand and yanked her away from Amos.

  Lizzy burst into tears. She wasn't afraid for herself, just Amos. "Leave him alone," she blurted into the earl's garlic-smelling face. "It was my idea. It wasn't Amos's fault!"

  "Amos?" The earl shoved Lizzy backward, and Mr. Gordy had to catch her with one hand to keep her from falling on the stone slab floor. "Amos, where are you employed here?"

  Amos yanked off his hat and lowered his head. "The kitchen, my lord. A . . . a baker."

  Lizzy could tell Amos was afraid by the shaky sound of his voice. She didn't want him to be afraid. She wanted to knock the earl down and run to Amos. She wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him. She wanted to protect him.

  The earl slowly walked toward Amos, his hands behind his back. "And do you think bakers should be about my home in the middle of the night with my wife's sister?"

  "No, my lord."

  The earl stopped right in front of Amos and stuck his ugly face in Amos's. "And do you think bakers should be about my home in the middle of the night futtering my wife's sister?" Spittle flew from his mouth.

  Amos shook with fear. "No, my lord. But . . . but please don't punish Lizzy, she weren't—"

  "Silence!"

  Amos shook harder. "It weren't—"

  "Mine. My property!" The earl hit Amos in the cheek with his fist.

  Lizzy screamed as Amos went down.

  "Mine, not to be soiled by the likes of you!" The earl kicked Amos hard and Amos grunted with pain.

  "No!" Lizzy tried to break away from Mr. Gordy, but he wouldn't let her go.

  "Hush. Save yourself," Mr. Gordy whispered in her ear.

  "Get him out of here, Gordy!" the earl shrieked, sweat breaking out above his upper lip. He drew back his foot and kicked Amos again. "Get him out of here before I lose my temper and gut him!"

  Mr. Gordy let go of Lizzy and quickly set down the candle-stand. Lizzy bolted, but Gordy reached Amos before she did and yanked him to his feet.

  "Let go of him!" she shouted, striking the secretary on the back with both of her fists. "Let him be. Don't hurt my Amos!"

  The earl grabbed Lizzy by her arm, twisted it, and pulled her away.

  Amos put out his hand for her, but he couldn't reach her. There was blood on his hands, blood on his shirt. "Lizzy?"

  "Amos!" Lizzy shrilled.

  The Earl of St. Martin shook her until her teeth rattled against each other. "Shut up, before I shut you up, you little dimwit." Holding her as far away from his body as he could, he ordered Mr. Gordy, "Get him out of here." He swung his foot as Mr. Gordy half-carried, half-dragged Amos past them.

  "What do you want me to do with him?" Mr. Gordy grunted as he fought to control Amos's flailing arms and legs.

  "Don't hurt Lizzy! Don't hurt her," Amos moaned. "Send word for Lady St. Martin."

  "My lord?" Gordy passed Lizzy and the earl, carrying Amos further and further from her.

  "Kill him!"

  Lizzy stopped struggling against the earl and turned to face him. Suddenly she was numb from her toes to her lips. She couldn't speak; she couldn't move. Surely she couldn't possibly have heard what she thought she'd heard.

  Mr. Gordy must not have heard right either, because he stopped beyond the circle of light cast by the candlestand on the floor. Lizzy couldn't see Amos any longer, but she could hear him breathing hard.

  "My lord?" Gordy questioned.

  "Are you deaf? Kill him!" St. Martin stomped one foot, still holding tightly to Lizzy's arm. He punctuated each word with another stomp. "Kill him. Kill him. Kill him!"

  "Yes, my lord." Mr. Gordy dragged Amos away into the darkness, and Lizzy fell on her knees at the earl's feet.

  "No, please, no," she begged, hands clasped.

  But even as the prayer passed her lips, she knew it would go unheard.

  Julia poured three glasses of sweet claret and carried them across the cozy withdrawing room on a silver tray. "Your Majesty." She offered him a goblet, which he accepted with a regal nod. "My lord."

  Griffin took his wine and hers as well. "Sit." He patted the crimson velvet cushion beside him on the floor.

  Julia welcomed his hand and settled beside him, petticoats flared around her. She still couldn't believe she was in the presence of the king. Sitting on the floor playing a three-handed game of putt with him, no less.

  "Ah, exquisite," the king remarked, drinking heartily from his goblet. "And now, madame, it's your turn to deal. I've a mind to win back at least ten pounds of what I owe you before the evening is done." He passed her the deck of cards. "That or else I'll be forced to sleep with you myself to pay my debt, for everyone knows my coffers are empty." He winked at her.

  Julia's cheeks grew warm, but she laughed at his jest. From anyone else she might have been insulted by such a bawdy remark, but after three rainy days spent in the company of His Majesty, she could only be flattered.

  In the last few days she had become enchanted by Charles. He was handsome, charming, witty, but most importantly, he was Griffin's friend. Here at the lodge she had witnessed an amazing relationship between the two men that ran far deeper than that of king and servant.

  The two men were actually comrades. And though, in public, Griffin retained a certain air of appropriate reverence, in closed quarters, alone, the men acted as if they were childhood friends. They quarreled and competed like brothers.

  Julia shuffled the deck, listening as the two men continued their conversation.

  Griffin casually slid his arm around Julia's waist. By now she was comfortable with his displays of affection in the presence of His Majesty. Apparently the king had known about their clandestine relationship before his arrival.

  "Jabar reports that promising information surfaced in a London tavern only last night," Griffin said. "And our investigation of several puritans magically-turned-loyal-subjects continues."

  The king picked up his cards from the wool tapestry he'd ordered pulled off the wall to make a cozy spot before the fireplace. "And the lady's husband?"

  Julia focused on her cards. Griffin had said nothing of investigating Simeon. Surely he didn't think Simeon was part of some master plan to murder the king? It wasn't possible. Just the same, her heart skipped a beat. Men found guilty of treason were hanged. Hanged men left widows free to marry another.

  She immediately felt guilty for wishing such a fate upon anyone, but the man was such a bastard. Perhaps he really was capable of treason.

  Griffin paused and Julia glanced up to find his gaze fixed on her.

  "Oh, hang it," the king muttered. "I've stuck my stocking in my mouth now, haven't I?" He shrugged one broad shoulder. "I only assumed that you and the lady had made plans for the future . . . should the earl be suspect."

  Griffin's gaze slowly shifted to his sovereign's. "I thought it better that nothing be said. I'm certain naught would come of it, and I don't want to offer . . . false hope." As he spoke he squeezed Julia's hand.

  She squeezed back, sharing his emotions. They wanted so desperately to be together—to be man and wife. They wanted so desperately what they could not have.

  The king lifted his hand casually. "You want him thrown in the Tower anyway?" He reached for his goblet. "I can do that, you know. One of the privileges of being king."

  "No." Julia was surprised by her own forwardness with His Majesty, but she spoke before she had the good sense to consider her words. "Please don't. I wouldn't want a man falsely accused on my account." She lowered her lashes. "Not even for Griffin."

  The king gave a snort of derision. "The man's a snake, Julia, and by my own blessed cod, he reeks of garlic." He waved a hand in front of his prominent nose. "I despise it when
he pays homage. The entire hall must be aired."

  She couldn't help but smile. If she didn't laugh over her situation, she would do nothing but cry. "If my husband is indeed treasonous, he should go to the Tower. But in my opinion, Your Majesty, no man, not even a snake,"—not even a man who sends another to bed his wife, she thought—"deserves to be falsely accused of such a heinous crime."

  "Very well." The king sighed. "I suppose I couldn't expect differently. I should have known you would carry the same high moral standards as Griffin. A pity my court is not filled with Baron Archers and Countess St. Martins."

  A knock sounded at the door and the king reached for his goblet. He didn't bother to look up, but began to rearrange his cards in his hand. He had stretched out on the many cushions strewn across the small withdrawing room floor and removed his riding boots. "Aye."

  One of the entourage of men who had accompanied His Majesty to the hunting lodge appeared in the doorway. He held a folded piece of paper. "A message for the Countess, Your Highness." He kept his gaze fixed on some invisible spot high on the plastered wall.

  "For me?" Julia rose with the assistance of Griffin's arm. "From Bassett Hall?"

  "Aye, my lady."

  Julia accepted the missive and the servant backed out of the room, closing the paneled oak door behind him.

  Julia broke the green wax seal with the St. Martin shield. A letter from Simeon?

  My Lady,

  A matter of urgency concerning the Lady Elizabeth requires your immediate presence.

  Your Servant,

  Mr. Gordy

  "He's not broken his neck in a bucket of soapsuds or choked on his garlic, has he?"

  Both men chuckled at the King's jest.

  Julia folded the paper, a sense of dread washing over her. A matter of urgency? Gordy didn't say she was ill. Immediately Julia thought of the baker. Surely Lizzy hadn't been kissing him again. "I have to return to Bassett Hall. Tonight." She glanced up. "By your leave, of course, Your Majesty."

  "Pity." The king moved one of the cards in his hand, his long legs stretched out before the fireplace. "You're better at cards than my companion here, and a damned sight more comely."

  Griffin laughed with him, but his face was lined with concern. "What's wrong? He's called for you?"

  She fiddled with the paper. "Will you excuse us, Your Majesty? I've only need of Griffin for a moment."

  "Take him, take him. Why not?" He tossed down his cards, face up. "You've already taken my coin and my heart, why not my comrade as well?"

  She forced a half smile and curtsied. "Your servant, Your Majesty. Griffin?"

  He rose from the velvet cushions and followed her out of the withdrawing room and into the high-ceilinged passageway. Here the stone went unplastered, and their voices echoed off the walls.

  "What's wrong, sweet? What does Simeon want?"

  She bit down on her lower lip. "Something with Lizzy." She held up the note. "Mr. Gordy sent word, not Simeon. My guess would be that Simeon knows nothing of it."

  Griffin took notice of the broken wax. "He used Simeon's seal without his permission? Takes Bullocks."

  "I have to go. Now." Julia felt as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown in her face. She knew she shouldn't have left Lizzy. She refolded the note. "Can you come, too?"

  Griffin reached out and lifted a lock of golden red hair off her shoulder. Here in the privacy of the lodge she wore it down over her shoulders, as he preferred it.

  "I'm sorry, sweet. I can't."

  She compressed her lips tightly. "Why?"

  "You know why. Jabar returns here tomorrow. He may have word of the conspirators."

  "You could send Jabar a message," she offered hopefully. "Tell him you've gone home to London."

  "Impossible. Besides, I belong here right now. At His Majesty's side."

  Julia felt tears sting the backs of her eyelids.

  "I'm sorry, sweetheart." He tried to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away.

  She knew she was being foolish. Griffin was protecting the king of England, for God's sake. He couldn't be at the beck and call of a woman, not even the woman he loved.

  Griffin folded his arms over his chest. He wore her favorite blue velvet doublet, the one that matched the color of his eyes. "I can join you in a few days, perhaps."

  "It's all right." She turned away.

  "Julia—"

  "Griffin, I have to pack. Could you call for the carriage?"

  "I could help. Charles can wait on his cards."

  "I'd rather be alone." She knew she was being childish, but she couldn't help how she felt. Lizzy might be sick or hurt. She needed Griffin. She didn't want to share him. Not even with the king of England.

  As she hurried down the hall, a servant who stood in a doorway so still that he was nearly invisible, leapt to light the passageway.

  "Julia," Griffin called with obvious exasperation as he followed her, his footsteps echoing on the stone. Then he halted. "At least let me see you off."

  "I'd rather you didn't." She halted at the turn in the corridor and looked back. God, she loved him so much it hurt. "Just let me go, Griffin. It's over. It's back to our responsibilities, both of us. Back to Bassett Hall I go, to my sister . . . and to my husband."

  Griffin watched her leave in a silence that she knew broke both their hearts.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Julia stood at the window of her bedchamber and stared out at the dreary January sky. Christmas had come to Bassett Hall in a flurry of gifts and parties, but without the warmth of a family's love. Now, the cold, wet rain of winter had settled in, and Julia felt trapped. She felt as if nothing was ever going to be right again.

  Lizzy had spent the advent season in bed, her eyes closed, her face pale. Julia had arrived at Bassett Hall from the king's hunting lodge too late to save poor Amos, but in time to rescue Lizzy. It had taken two days of begging for Julia to convince Simeon not to put Lizzy in an asylum. No one ever spoke of Amos again, and out of fear for her sister, Julia did not ask how Simeon had disposed of him. She feared to ask more would push him beyond his limit of tolerance.

  So, Lizzy's baker was dead, and there was nothing Julia could do to console her sister. Lizzy barely spoke, barely ate, barely slept. For a month she did nothing but lie in bed, her eyes closed. At first Julia had tried everything. She'd coaxed Lizzy with delicacies of food, wooden toys, even a kitten. Nothing could take the dull-eyed stare from her face. Now after two months, Lizzy rose each day and went through the motions of living, but there was no life in her eyes.

  Julia was overwrought with concern for her sister, but she didn't know what more she could do for her. She blamed herself for Lizzy being caught with the baker by Simeon. It was her fault for not sending Amos away when she'd first caught a hint of the illicit affair. It was her fault Lizzy had been left alone to sneak about Bassett Hall in the middle of the night.

  While Julia had been lying in bed in Griffin's arms at the hunting lodge, Amos had been sentenced to death. Of course there was no proof but Lizzy's word, so there would be no legal recourse, even if Julia dared seek it. In the eyes of the law, Amos was an insignificant baker who had run off from his employer.

  Julia set down the napkin she was embroidering. She'd torn out the same row of green stitches three times this morning. Her heart just wasn't in stitching napkins with the St. Martin crest on them.

  Julia had seen little of Griffin. There was no quarrel that separated them, only the harsh realities of their lives. Griffin knew nothing of Amos's death. Julia lied and told him Amos had run away, and that she'd had to return from the hunting lodge to Bassett Hall to comfort Lizzy. She hadn't told him the truth for fear of the danger to Lizzy and to herself. Simeon had made it clear the night she returned that he could still send Lizzy off to an asylum at any time, or worse. Even if Julia had thought it safe to tell Griffin, she wouldn't have. His responsibility to the king was too great right now. He needed to concentrate on protecting his majes
ty.

  Lately, Griffin spent much of his time away from Bassett Hall, with the king, she guessed, though he never said. She liked to think that every moment he was away would somehow bring an end to this nightmare of her marriage, but she wondered if she and Griffin were both fooling themselves. When Julia did see him, it was only for brief snatches of time. Only twice since their return had they met alone, and both times she had been so afraid they would be caught, that she'd not really been able to fully enjoy their lovemaking.

  Julia slowly drew her first initial in the condensation on the inside of the window glass. With Lizzy not herself and Griffin gone most of the time, she was so lonely. Griffin's promise that somehow, someday they would be together seemed less and less real each day. Even the heavy ring she wore on the ribbon beneath her shift seemed unreal.

  "Here's another napkin." Lizzy offered Julia a piece of white damask. "Should I start another?"

  Lizzy's face was pallid, her eyes sunken in from the weight she'd lost. But at least she was on her feet.

  Julia smiled, though she didn't feel like it. "Would you? We've still at least twenty to stitch, and the party is less than a week away."

  Lizzy stared dull-eyed. "Should I send Drusilla to fetch more?" Since the incident with Amos, Lizzy had barely left the privacy of the apartments they shared.

  "No." Julia rested a hand on her sister's bony shoulder. "I'll do it. Why not make us a pot of tea and I'll bring up something special to eat with it. Would you like a ginger cake if there's any?"

  Lizzy drifted away. "Whatever pleases you. I care naught."

  Julia watched Lizzy wander away. She wasn't really up to food either. The tea would be enough. For the last fortnight her stomach had been queasy on and off, day and night. She wasn't ill, no fever, no chills, no headache, just the nausea. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Julia knew there was one possibility she need consider, but she refused to even think about it. To become pregnant with Griffin's child when her husband did not bed her would be the end to them all. It was too terrible a possibility to even consider.

  "I'll get the napkins," Julia said as cheerfully as possible. "And you pour the tea to steep. I'll be back directly." She halted at the door. "I don't suppose there's any need to pour Mother a cup. We haven't seen her in three days."