‘Denzil, this is an uncivilised hour to come calling,’ Adam said.
Denzil set the candle and bottle on the table. ‘You seem to have made a recovery since I last saw you,’ he said, his words slurring slightly as Adam stepped out of the shadows and into the small illumination provided by the candle.
When Adam didn’t answer, Denzil gestured at a chair beside the table. ‘Sit down, Coulter, and drink with me.’
As Adam took the proffered chair, Denzil slumped into the chair opposite him and pushed the bottle across the table.
‘Have some wine.’
There were no glasses so Adam pretended to take a swig. He needed his wits about him.
‘Quite like old times, isn't it?’ Denzil took the bottle from him, took a hefty draft and leaned back.
Adam regarded his brother with narrowed eyes. ‘What is this about, Denzil?’
‘Love.’ Denzil heaved a sigh.
That had not been the answer Adam had been expecting. He sat back in his chair. ‘Love?’
‘Have you ever been in love?’ Denzil began, and before Adam could answer, continued. ‘Were you in love with Louise?’
Adam thought for a moment. No point in lying. ‘At the time I thought I was,’ he admitted.
‘She's a witch.’ Denzil swilled another mouthful of wine. ‘She puts spells on men and they have to do her bidding. You were always into books and things. Wasn't there some witch who turned men into pigs?’
‘Circe.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Denzil. ‘Circe. Louise is like that. I know she is not a virtuous wife but I can’t help it. I love her too much.’ He took another swig and set the bottle down with cold deliberation. ‘Have some more.’
‘No, thank you,’ Adam said.
‘You didn’t touch her, did you?’
‘No,’ Adam said. ‘Strange how no one asked me that question at the time. You all assumed the first but nothing happened, and even if it had, it wouldn’t have been rape. It doesn’t excuse the fact that I intended to bed my brother’s wife but trust me, Denzil, I didn’t go to her bed without an invitation.’
Denzil grunted. ‘And her brother?’
‘Rolling drunk. He rushed at me with a drawn sword and fell on my weapon before I had a chance to step away.’
Denzil huffed out a heavy sigh. ‘I’ve tried to hate you, but I can’t. We share the same blood you and I. Even when you were a boy, you were always so much better at things than me.’ He screwed up his face. ‘You could have had any woman in court. Why Louise?’
Adam shrugged. What could he say? Nothing that would excuse the fact he intended to cuckold his brother.
‘She crooked her finger and I followed. I’m not proud of that but I was young, Denzil.’
Denzil studied him from narrowed eyes. ‘I s’pose I would have done the same thing if I’d been you. It's the sort of thing I would do. I’m not exactly a faithful husband. I’ve a boy you know?’
‘Robin told me.’
‘A little bastard like you. Louise won’t let me bring him to Marchants so I pay his mother an allowance. He lives well enough.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Charles.’ Denzil laid his head back against the chair. ‘I’m a fool, Adam. A fool with a beautiful, venal woman for a wife who just has to click her fingers and I’m at her feet like a slathering lap dog.’
Adam leaned forward. ‘Denzil, for what it’s worth, if I had my time again...’
Denzil looked at him. ‘Well, you had time to regret it, didn’t you? I knew you weren’t dead, you know. They wanted a ransom. I told Father not to pay it.’ He frowned and pressed his right forefinger to the surface of the table. ‘No, that’s not right. Louise persuaded me it was better to leave you to rot in Germany. I told everyone you were dead, even Father.’
Adam let a long silence pass between them and when he did speak, he kept his voice low and flat to hide the anger that welled inside him. ‘You left me to rot? You let Father die thinking I was dead? I’m not sure whose crime is worse, Denzil.’
Denzil traced an imaginary line across the table top. ‘I genuinely thought you were dead. I had a report that you had died of fever in Leipzig. Only found out you had survived after father had died and I had a letter telling me of your release.’
Liar, thought Adam as Denzil’s gaze remained fixed on the table top.
‘Do you have any idea what I endured in that accursed place?’ Adam pushed back the sleeves of his shirt and held out his wrists to his brother. ‘Do you know what these scars are? Manacles, Denzil. And there are other scars I could show you.’ He broke off, the years of injustice and suppressed fury seething to the surface. ‘You speak of being jealous of me, but do you have any idea what I had to do to make myself worthy of father’s attention? Then you let him die thinking I was dead.’
He struggled to control his anger. Was that what Denzil was trying to do? Provoke him into violence?
He wouldn’t—couldn’t—give his brother and his wife that satisfaction.
He drew a long, slow steadying breath. ‘As I see it, Denzil, the table between us is now clear of debt. I owe you nothing, nothing at all.’
Denzil toyed with the now empty wine bottle. ‘You’re right. I’m not proud of my actions, or my inactions,’ he said, ‘but I had Louise to consider. I do love her, you know.’
‘So you say, but you’re not in love with Louise,’ Adam said. ‘Not really. You’re in lust with Louise. There is a huge difference. She has your balls in her vice and you just go where she leads you.’
‘You’re right of course. I would do anything for her. Anything,’ Denzil said.
Adam fixed his stepbrother with an unblinking gaze. ‘Even kill me?’
Denzil looked up at him from underneath his shaggy fringe and nodded, his face grim. ‘Louise hates you.’
‘I do know that,’ Adam said with an ironic twist of his lips.
Denzil flung himself out of the chair and paced the room. He stopped, resting his knuckles on the table, and leaned forward, his face only inches from Adam’s. ‘Damn it. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. Saved us all this trouble.’ He turned away and slumped back into his chair. ‘You know what? I couldn't. I couldn't damn well shoot you in cold blood. You’re my brother.’ His shoulders slumped. ‘In fact, I’m going to let you go.’
Adam raised an eyebrow.
Denzil waved a finger. ‘Well, not me.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘I’ve had an idea. Get yourself ready to leave, Coulter. I’ll be back shortly.’
Perdita slept badly, haunted by dreams of Louise's green eyes and a hangman's noose. In the dark of the night she awoke in a sweat to hear footsteps outside her door. The catch on her door jiggled. She lay motionless, rigid with terror as the door opened. Even in the dim light of the night candle that he carried, she recognised Denzil’s bulky figure in the doorway and her heart raced with terror. Had he come to kill her, or worse?
The floorboards creaked as he walked across to the bed. He raised the candle and looked down at her. Perdita screwed her eyes tight, bracing herself for what was to come.
He shook her shoulder. ‘I know you're awake. I want you to come with me,’ he slurred.
She sat up, catching the bedclothes up to her chin, her voice unnaturally high and tight. ‘What do you intend to do with me?’
He snorted. ‘Don’t fear, little Puritan, your virtue is quite safe with me, and neither do I intend to kill you, Mistress Gray, although God knows someone else may well want that privilege when we are done. Put some clothes on and come with me, now.’
Shivering from cold and apprehension, Perdita slipped from the bed, pausing only to pull on a petticoat and shoes. She threw a cloak around her shoulders for warmth and followed Denzil out into the corridor.
He put his fingers to his lips. ‘Shhh. We mustn’t wake her.’
Perdita had no intention of waking her but she shivered at the thought of Louise, hopefully slumbering peacefully in the best guest c
hamber at the farthest end of the corridor. They stopped outside the door to Adam’s chamber. Denzil produced a key and gave it to Perdita.
‘You. I've had far too much to drink.’
She opened the door and slipped inside the room. To her surprise, Adam sat in a chair at the table, fully dressed in cloak and hat. He started when he saw her and rose to his feet.
‘What’s she doing here?’
Perdita glanced at Denzil. ‘What do you want of me?’
Denzil smiled, his fingers closing around Perdita’s arm, drawing her in toward him.
‘She's going to let you go. Someone must face Louise in the morning and I don't want it to be me or Robin or that pretty piece he’s so keen on. It will be easy.’ He bent his head to Perdita’s ear. ‘All you have to say, little Puritan, is that you had a spare key and you let him out.’
‘I know I should be grateful to you, Denzil,’ Adam said drily, ‘But, as we have discussed, Louise is unforgiving and you’re setting Perdita against her.’
Denzil looked at Perdita. ‘You can go back to your bed, Puritan. I’ll not have it said I forced you to something against your will.’
Perdita glanced from one brother to the other. How could two men who bore the same blood be so different? Were they two sides of the same coin, the opposite and yet the same?
‘I’m not scared of Louise,’ she lied. ‘I’ll take the blame, my lord.’
Denzil threw his arm across Perdita’s shoulders. ‘See, she’ll do it, and what does it matter if she earns Louise’s undying hatred? She’ll be in good company. Those people she can't use, she hates. Louise's philosophy of life is quite simple.’
Adam looked across at her, his eyes dark shadows in the inadequate light. She wanted to tell him that she would walk through the very fires of hell if it meant she could see him free.
‘Good,’ Denzil said. ‘Well, are you going?’
Adam stood up. ‘What about your men?’
‘Sleeping like babies in the barn. There’s no one in the stables. Take Rob’s horse. It’s the fastest.’
Adam smiled. ‘Rob will never forgive me.’
Denzil shrugged. ‘I saw Rob’s eyes tonight. He’d rather see you free than dancing at the end of the hangman’s noose.’ He stretched, ‘God's death but I'm tired. I'm going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, Mistress Gray.’
‘I have no doubt you will be suitably outraged,’ Perdita said.
Adam put a hand on his brother's arm. ‘Lay a finger on her and you answer to me.’
Denzil straightened with drunken dignity. ‘You have my word as a gentleman.’ He bowed and lurched out of the room.
Perdita glanced at the sky beyond the window, already showing a faint lightening of dawn. ‘There’s not much time, Adam.’
He nodded and caught her arm, drawing her toward him. ‘Perdita, how many times can one person be indebted to another?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘By my calculation, this is the third time you have saved my life. What can I do to repay you?’
Her eyes met his. ‘Nothing, Adam. Perhaps one day the debt can be repaid but not here and now.’ She wriggled out of his grasp. ‘You must go. Does your leg need redressing before you leave?’
He shook his head. ‘It’ll do.’
As they turned for the door, she took his hand and turned it over so it was palm up. ‘This is for you.’
He turned over the ancient locket, her mother’s only piece of jewellery.
He flicked open the catch, revealing the lock of dark brown hair curled within it.
‘Take it,’ she said, looking up at him.
Her body ached for him to take her in his arms, and as if reading the longing in her gaze, he drew her toward him, his arm circling her waist, pressing her to him, forcing her to look up at him.
Perdita closed her eyes and surrendered to his lips, her passion matching his with a bruising intensity. His fingers meshed in her hair and her whole body tingled and ached for him. Even as she surrendered to the powerful need to be his arms, a wave of guilt swept through her. Why did she not feel like this when Simon kissed her?
As if he sensed her thoughts, he released her and in a swift movement he fastened the locket around his neck, turned on his heel, and with his boots in his hand, Adam was gone.
The barest shimmer of light lifted the dark beyond the windows. Perdita shivered and drew her cloak around her. She tiptoed back to her room, flung herself down on the bed, and prepared for the storm that would surely engulf the house when Louise discovered her prey had escaped her.
Perdita did not consider herself a coward, but even as she descended the stairs to the sound of Louise’s voice raised in anger coming from the parlour her courage failed her and she considered returning to the safety of her own chamber with the door locked.
But she had promised Denzil, and in the dark of the night, Denzil had showed himself to be, at heart, a decent human being. Louise had to be faced.
Taking a deep breath Perdita walked in on an ugly scene. Louise’s hair was in disarray, and her face contorted with rage. Denzil by contrast looked pale but composed.
‘Louise, for the love of the good Christ, I have a headache,’ he said.
‘Is there something amiss?’ Perdita enquired, schooling her face to the well-practiced neutrality she had employed in dealing with her husband.
‘He’s gone,’ Louise shrieked.
‘I know.’ Perdita laid the key Denzil had given her on the table in front of Louise.
Louise's eyes blazed. ‘How dare you interfere?’
She raised her hand but Denzil caught it as Perdita took a step back, anticipating the blow.
Louise shot her husband a look of pure fury but her hand fell. Straightening, she pushed her hair back behind her ears and took a deep breath as if bringing her surging emotions back under control. She swallowed, and with narrowed eyes advanced on Perdita. ‘What gave you the right to interfere in this matter? It is no business of yours.’
Perdita struggled to keep her features neutral, although her heart pounded and her guts surged like water. Samuel Gray was a lamb compared to this wolf in woman’s clothing.
Carefully avoiding Denzil’s eyes, Perdita fixed on the beautiful face and glittering eyes of Louise. ‘God willed me to do it. He spoke to me in the night and told me that what you were planning was against his will.’
Louise stared at her. ‘God? What has God to do with this?’
Perdita placed a pious hand on her breast. ‘God wished to remind you of his holy writ. “Thou shalt not bear false witness”, and I truly believe that is what you planned in your heart, Lady Marchant.’
Louise paled and her breath escaped between half-opened lips. Her hand reached for the back of a chair. Her gaze locked with Perdita, the hatred in her eyes burning through to Perdita's soul.
‘I’ll not forget this, Mistress Gray.’
A cold chill ran down Perdita’s spine and once more she found herself making the sign against witches.
Louise straightened, patting her disordered curls back into some semblance of order. She shot a glance at her husband. ‘Denzil, Her Majesty is expecting me this morning. I’m leaving.’ Without a backward glance at Perdita she left the room.
Before Perdita could speak, Robin burst through the door, his face flushed, his hat in his hand. ‘Sorry, Denzil, no sign of him. He must have been gone hours. He took my horse too. We’ll never catch him before he makes Warwick.’
Denzil made a show of banging his fist on the table. ‘God rot him. Nothing for it Rob, the queen is moving on today so we must be gone. Go and ready the men.’
Robin saluted and turned on his heel, no longer Bess’s lovesick swain but a soldier.
Alone together, Perdita and Denzil stared at each other.
‘You played your part well,’ Denzil said at last.
Perdita reached for the table to steady herself. She took a deep breath. ‘You’re a coward, Denzil Marchant.’
> ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed, bowed and was gone.
Perdita sank into a chair. The events of the last few weeks had turned her world upside down and a hundred conflicting emotions surged in her mind. A tear escaped, dribbling down her cheek, and as the strain of the interview with Louise took hold, she laid her head on her arms and allowed the tears to fall.
She started at a light touch on her shoulder, jumping to her feet to face Joan.
‘Excuse me,’ she managed to say as she dashed at her swollen eyes.
‘Are you going to tell me what really happened?’ Joan asked. ‘Just as well Adam can’t see you now.’
Perdita sniffed and dashed at her swollen eyes. ‘Why?’
‘Some women like Louise can cry and still look perfect. You’re not one of them.’
Perdita managed a smile. ‘He should be safely in Warwick by now.’
Joan picked up the key Perdita had laid on the table. ‘How did you come by this? I thought Denzil had it.’
‘It was Denzil who freed him. I just took the blame.’
‘Denzil?’ Joan’s eyes widened. ‘It would seem I have misjudged my nephew. He does still have some of his own will left.’
‘Up to a point.’ Perdita snorted and then closed her eyes. ‘You should have seen her, Joan. If she could have struck me dead on the spot she would have done so.’
Joan drew in an audible breath and nodded. ‘You have made a formidable enemy in Louise, I’m afraid.’
‘Adam is gone, and I,’ she faltered. ‘I am to wed Simon so there should be no further need of her enmity.’
‘Ah yes, Simon,’ Joan said. ‘He seems to have become somewhat lost in the events of the last few days. Tell me, Perdita, do you love him?’
Perdita hesitated a fraction too long. ‘Of course I do. How can you ask? Now excuse me. It was a long night and I feel the need to rest.’
‘Of course you do,’ Joan echoed Perdita’s assertion as Perdita walked from the room.
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