The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3)

by Stella Riley

  Francis nodded. ‘So we wait for a second letter?’

  ‘Yes. And in the meantime, we start preparing the ground. It’s possible we’ll need a little help from Pauline. Do you think she’d be averse to that?’

  ‘I imagine that would depend on what you were asking her to do.’

  ‘Nothing either dangerous or difficult. But I don’t want Athenais knowing anything about it. She’s beginning to recover and I’m not going to allow any new worries to interfere with that.’

  ‘Pauline will agree with you on that score, I’m sure. So what do you need her to do?’

  ‘We’ll require appropriate clothing. And I’m hoping that she can provide it from the theatre’s wardrobe.’

  Laughter gleamed in the sapphire eyes.

  ‘You mean we’re going to dress up? How delightful.’

  ‘It’s not likely to be nearly as much fun as you think. You are going to impersonate the Duke of York – and will therefore have to avoid being killed by mistake.’

  ‘Ah. Right.’ Francis leaned back in his chair, absorbing this. Then, ‘Since, like yourself, James is fair-haired, while the King, like myself, is not – how come the roles are not reversed?’

  ‘Because I’ll be playing the part of the trusty coachman, with Jem up behind dressed as a groom. I imagine Hyde can supply us both with the necessary livery.’

  ‘Wouldn’t the King be more likely to go on horseback rather than by coach?’

  ‘Perhaps. But then he’d be accompanied by a party of gentlemen and the quiet assassination in some back-alley would become a pitched battle. I’m guessing they won’t want that.’

  ‘I suppose not. So who’s going to --?’

  ‘I’ll come back to that. For now, let’s start at the beginning. If there is a second letter and it names Honfleur as the rendezvous point, I think we can assume that it’s the plot Eden warned us about – and therefore put our own plans into action. Originally, I’d hoped to keep Charles completely out of the picture but that’s no longer possible. Since it’s almost certain that someone will be keeping track of his movements, he and James have to be seen setting out for the coast. If they don’t think he’s taken the bait, they’ll abort the whole plan.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be for the best?’ asked Francis.

  ‘No. We’ve had advance notice of this one. If they’re forced to cancel it, there’s a distinct possibility they’ll come up with something else – and next time, we may not be so lucky.’

  ‘Even supposing we foil this one, they could do that anyway.’

  ‘They could,’ agreed Ashley, ‘but if things go as I hope, I don’t think they will. If we can find the merest scrap of proof that Thurloe has sanctioned a scheme to murder the man who many people still regard as the rightful King, Hyde will make it public. And that ought to be enough to stop them trying again and also give Cromwell a headache.’

  ‘Now there’s a winsome thought.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Ashley poured himself some ale and pushed the jug across the table. ‘But to resume. Charles and James will appear to leave for Honfleur, accompanied by Jem and myself. So far, so good. The next part is trickier and will require some organisation. We’ll need a second coach and a reliable driver for you and the man I hope will masquerade as Charles. At a suitable, pre-arranged spot, both coaches meet and we effect the exchange. Charles and James drive back in the direction of Paris, spending the night at some out-of-the way inn; and the four of us journey on to Honfleur.’ He paused, frowning a little. ‘That’s the part that I’m most worried about. I’d be happier if the King and his brother were being taken to safety by a couple of well-trained fellows with muskets. There’s a small chance that I can get help with that. If not … well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’

  ‘What about Sir Will Brierley?’ suggested Francis.

  ‘No. He’s involved in some nefarious scheme of his own that I’m probably better off not knowing about.’ And I’m not as sure of him as I once was. But he kept that thought to himself and said instead, ‘The one part of all this that we can’t plan for is what is actually going to happen at Honfleur. We don’t know who the assassins are or how many of them there will be.’

  ‘Or whether they’ll simply shoot us in the back as soon as we break cover,’ remarked Francis wryly. ‘And there’s another jolly thought.’

  ‘Pistols are noisy. I’m putting my faith in them not wanting to attract undue attention.’

  ‘Oh. Knives, then. As one of the primary targets, that makes me feel so much better. Speaking of which … who do you think you can persuade to take the leading role?’

  Ashley grinned and took his time about answering. Then, ‘How much do you know about Cyrano de Bergerac?’

  For a moment, Francis’s expression was one of utter disbelief. Finally, he said, ‘Discounting the gossip and aside from the celebrated occasion when he saved your life? Virtually nothing. You surely don’t mean that as a serious suggestion.’

  ‘You have a better one?’

  ‘I’ve no ideas on the matter at all. But … God, Ashley! De Bergerac? Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘Then you’d better not tell Hyde. He’ll have a fit.’

  ‘Several, probably.’ Ashley paused and then, not without a hint of amusement, said, ‘I’ve a fair idea of why you doubt my sanity but --’

  ‘It’s de Bergerac’s sanity that worries me.’

  ‘I’ve gathered that. But – loose cannon though he may be – he’s not the completely wild barbarian of popular rumour. He’s neither stupid nor lacking in moral fibre. And the fact that he’s fought countless duels and is still alive says a great deal about his fighting skills. If he agrees to help us, there are worse men to have at your back.’

  Francis sighed. ‘Not to mention that we don’t have much choice?’

  ‘That too. Have I your agreement to approach him?’

  ‘Do you need it?’

  ‘Since you’ll be risking your neck in this venture, it seems only fair.’

  ‘Thank you for reminding me. But yes. By all means go and talk to the fellow. If he’s lunatic enough to throw in his lot with us, it merely makes him no madder than you or I.’

  * * *

  While Ashley was off trying to track down Cyrano de Bergerac, Francis towed Pauline into her bedroom and shot the bolt. She tilted her head and looked at him.

  ‘Don’t think I don’t appreciate the thought or admire your stamina – but it’s the middle of the day and I’d as soon not have Athenais and the Colonel looking at us sideways.’

  ‘Ashley is out. And I don’t mind Athenais imagining that I’ve been overcome with lust,’ he grinned, sliding hand around her waist. ‘Sadly, however, that’s not the reason we’re here – much though I’d like it to be.’

  ‘Oh? Then you’d better stop that, hadn’t you?’ she said as he nipped his way down her neck.

  ‘Must I?’ His mouth found its way to hers. ‘When are you going to say you’ll marry me?’

  ‘Not today.’ She twisted away from him and, holding him at arms’ length, said a shade breathlessly, ‘Why are we here?’

  ‘I’ve forgotten. You distract me.’

  ‘Obviously, it doesn’t take much.’

  ‘With you, darling? Nothing at all.’ He gave her a deliberately lascivious glance and watched her skin warm even as her mouth quivered on the edge of laughter. It was a particular pleasure of his to tease her into shedding her usual acerbic demeanour. He wondered how many people ever saw her like this … flushed, ruffled and smiling. Then, with reluctance, he recognised that he’d better come to the point before he really did forget what it was. He said, ‘However. If you sit there and I sit as far away as possible, I may manage to concentrate.’

  Pauline took the window-seat and watched him subside on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ sighed Francis. ‘And highly confidential. And, at all costs, to be kept from Athe
nais.’

  The laughter vanished abruptly and her mouth tightened.

  ‘Which is your way of telling me that you and Ashley are involved in something dangerous, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So why are you telling me? You never have before.’

  ‘We never needed your help before.’

  ‘Oh God.’ She drew a long, bracing breath and then said, ‘Get it over with, then.’

  So he did.

  Frowning a little, Pauline listened without interruption and, at the end, said flatly, ‘You’re going to pose as the King’s brother and hope not to be assassinated in his place. Is that what you’re telling me?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘And inviting Cyrano de Bergerac to join in the fun?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She stood up, put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a furious glare.

  ‘Has the Colonel completely lost his mind?’

  Francis winced.

  ‘I hope not – though I’ll admit that the thought had occurred to me.’ He waited for some sign that she was relenting and, when none came, said hesitantly, ‘Will you help?’

  ‘Help you get yourself killed, you mean?’

  ‘It shouldn’t come to that.’

  ‘Shouldn’t and won’t are two different things,’ she snapped. ‘If I say no, will it stop you?’

  ‘No. It will just make things a bit more difficult. But, if you want to refuse, don’t let that stand in your way. I’ll respect your decision.’

  ‘Respect my request to stay out of it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said slowly. ‘I can’t.’

  Pauline sat down again with a bump, her hands clenched in her lap.

  She said explosively, ‘I don’t want you to die.’

  ‘I’m not wild about the idea myself. But --’

  ‘Don’t! Don’t you dare joke about it! It isn’t remotely funny.’

  Actually, there was a tiny part of Francis that thought, if not exactly funny, it was at least mildly ironic. That he – the lightweight dilettante who, for years, no-one had never taken seriously – was about to risk getting his throat slit on behalf of the Duke of York. But the look on Pauline’s face told him that he hadn’t better say that, so he murmured, ‘No. Of course not. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Liar.’ Her voice had grown distinctly husky and the hazel eyes were over-bright. ‘If you were sorry you wouldn’t do it.’

  Not entirely sure that she wouldn’t hit him, Francis sat down beside her and took her hands in his. ‘I am sorry, Pauline. But if I let Ashley down … and something happened to either him or the King as a result … what sort of a man would that make me?’

  ‘A live one. And you don’t have to be a hero for me. I love you as you are.’

  It was the first time she had said it in so many words. Joy exploded inside him and went fizzing through his veins. There were probably a dozen things he might have said … but he uttered the first one that came to mind. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Oh – you ridiculous, stubborn man!’ Pauline snatched her hands from his and put her arms around him, pulling him close. ‘You say these things and make me want to weep.’

  ‘I don’t mean to.’

  ‘I know. That’s the devil of it.’ She laid her cheek against his and drew a long breath. ‘All right. I’ll get you the clothes you need and I won’t tell Athenais. But you can rest assured that I’ll be giving Ashley a piece of my mind that he won’t forget in a hurry.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Francis. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  * * *

  Ashley returned to inform Francis that Monsieur de Bergerac would be gracing them with his presence that evening once the ladies were occupied at the theatre. Francis responded by saying that Pauline would like a word with him – and then sat down to enjoy the spectacle of his love stripping away the Colonel’s skin, layer by layer. Fortunately, Ashley had the good sense to let her and merely stood, mute and humble, beneath the lash of her tongue. And when she was done and had swept militantly from the room, he looked helplessly at Francis and said, ‘Christ. Why couldn’t she simply cut off my balls and have done with it?’

  ‘I think she just did,’ replied Francis cheerfully. ‘Splendid, isn’t she?’

  * * *

  Athenais was still struggling with the laces of her gown when she heard Ashley’s footsteps on the stairs. Her stomach dipped with a mixture of shyness, pleasure and anticipation. Last night she’d finally overcome what had seemed an insurmountable hurdle and had been surprised by how very easy it had been. He’d held her in warm, passionless arms until she was ready to sleep and she’d felt safe for the first time in weeks. Then he’d kissed her hands, given her a slow, beautiful smile … and left her alone. When she’d woken up this morning, he’d already gone out and she’d spent a good deal of time lurking in the parlour, hoping to see him only to find that, in the one brief hour she’d been required at the theatre for rehearsal, he’d come in, spoken to Francis and gone out again. Had Francis not said that Ashley was running tedious errands for the King, the shadow of uncertainty that still lingered inside her might have tempted her to wonder if he was avoiding her. As it was, she chose to ignore it and believe Francis.

  Ashley tapped at the door and waited her for her to answer before he entered.

  She said awkwardly, ‘You don’t need to do that.’

  ‘Yes, love. I do. You took a huge step last night … so let’s just be content with that for a while, shall we? There’s no hurry.’

  Forgetting that her gown was only half-laced, Athenais turned to the mirror and started pinning up her hair. ‘You’ve been very busy today.’

  ‘Yes. Chancellor Hyde, His Majesty … all manner of trivia and more still to come.’ He took a step towards her and met her eyes in the glass, his expression carefully veiled. Then, deciding to test the solidity of the ground beneath that giant step, ‘Shall I finish this for you?’

  ‘What?’ For a moment, she couldn’t think what he meant.

  ‘Your laces. There appears to be a knot.’

  He sounded so natural … except that only a few weeks ago he wouldn’t have had to ask.

  Flushing a little, she said, ‘Oh. Yes, please. I couldn’t seem to reach.’

  Ashley closed the space between them and set about deftly freeing the tangle, whilst making sure his knuckles didn’t brush the creamy skin of her back. He glanced briefly at her face in the mirror and said quietly, ‘Don’t look so worried. We just have new rules today.’

  ‘We do?’

  ‘Yes.’ His mouth curled in a half-smile and he started drawing the laces tight. ‘I set the pace … until you tell me differently. I won’t be taking anything for granted and will always ask permission. If you want more from me, you need only say so. How does that sound?’

  ‘More than fair to me … less than fair to you.’

  ‘My choice.’ He finished his task and immediately stepped back. ‘Unfortunately, I have another meeting this evening but I could walk to the theatre with you if you’d like me to.’

  Athenais turned, her face lit with shy pleasure.

  ‘Yes. I’d like that very much.’

  Her smile made his heart lose its customary rhythm. He’d feared he might never see it again. He said, ‘Then I’ll wait downstairs while you finish your toilette.’

  ‘You needn’t go.’

  I do if I’m to pull myself together, he thought. But said lightly, ‘I know. But I want a word with Jem before we go out. Assuming he hasn’t disappeared again.’

  Athenais watched the door close behind him. His manners, as ever, were impeccable. But she missed the teasing and the laughter … and wondered, with a sigh, how long it might be before she saw it again.

  * * *

  Slouching in his chair, Cyrano de Bergerac listened in silence while Ashley outlined both the problem and his plans for dealing with it. Francis, who had already heard it, was content to keep his mouth shut; Jem, who hadn’
t, muttered the occasional muffled curse.

  Finally, Ashley poured the Frenchman a third cup of wine and said, ‘I realise I have no right to ask you to help us. I also realise that I’m already in debt to you for saving my life and that, asking you to risk yours, isn’t adequate repayment. But I hope you’ll realise that, in telling you what I have, I’ve just trusted you to a level far outside my normal practice.’

  Cyrano’s expression remained enigmatic.

  ‘What made you take the risk?’

  ‘Instinct coupled with lack of viable alternatives.’

  Laughter stirred. ‘I’m generally wary of gut-feeling but I know all about last resorts. Assuming that this King of yours lives long enough to get his crown back … is he likely to do a better job than the last one?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Ashley. ‘What you’re asking is if he and his brother are worth saving.’

  ‘And are they?’

  ‘More so than myself.’

  ‘Saving you cost me nothing. Saving Charles Stuart is another matter. Fortunately for you, there’s an element to all this that attracts me.’

  ‘Death?’ queried Francis brightly.

  ‘Hazard,’ came the reply. ‘A touch of theatre, followed by a good fight. Something to make a man’s blood flow faster. The last month has been damned dull.’

  Ashley eyed him thoughtfully. ‘You’re saying you’ll do it for fun?’

  ‘It’s as good a reason as any,’ Cyrano shrugged. ‘But don’t let that worry you. The only way this will work is if we all stick to the plan. So maybe we should address the holes in it – starting with the place where the four of us meet up to make the switch, perhaps?’

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  NINE

  By the time Cyrano took his leave and Francis set off to escort Athenais and Pauline home from the theatre, most of Ashley’s concerns had been laid to rest. The rendezvous point had been fixed for a village just outside Louviers where de Bergerac knew the innkeeper and he’d also engaged to supply a pair of retired musketeers who owed him a favour and knew how to keep their mouths shut. These would take Cyrano and Francis from Paris and then see Charles and James safely back by a circuitous route. This, since Pauline had reluctantly agreed to provide appropriate clothing, left Ashley with little more to do than see to the hiring of a coach, acquaint Hyde with his other needs and await for the arrival of the second letter. Once that came, he could look forward to a difficult and probably acrimonious interview with Charles … after which events were likely to overtake them.