Scandal's Mistress (A Novel of Lord Hawkesbury's Players)

by C. J. Archer

  “What sort of trouble.”

  “The treason sort.”

  Leo’s heart tripped. So Marlowe had told the truth. “The last Earl of Hawkesbury was involved in a plot to assassinate the queen,” he said heavily.

  Grayshaw refolded the letter and gave it back to Leo. “If I had to guess how he was discovered I would suggest he was tricked into hiring an agent of Walsingham’s, disguised as an assassin. It’s a method he’s used before.”

  “Then why was he never tried for his crime?” Leo asked.

  “Do you know when the old earl died?”

  Leo frowned in thought. “Lilly mentioned Hawkesbury inherited the earldom about ten years ago.”

  “That letter is dated June 1579. Ten years ago.”

  “So old Hawkesbury dies and the accusations are never made public. They were buried along with him.”

  Grayshaw nodded. “This letter must have been written just before his death and has only now come to light again.”

  “Marlowe discovers it, passes it to his superior, Enderby, who failed to hand it over to his superior, Walsingham.”

  “That’s a dangerous thing to do in itself.”

  Leo couldn’t help smiling. “Indeed it is.” If Walsingham learned of the deception, Enderby could find himself in a lot of trouble with the powerful courtier. “Thank you,” Leo said. He clapped Grayshaw on the shoulder. “Thank you very much.”

  “So we’re friends again?”

  “Were we ever not?”

  Grayshaw glanced at the door to the room where Alice was changing. “I wondered if something had come between us, ever since you discovered…my past with Alice.”

  “What is past is past. As long as you stay away from her now, all is forgiven.”

  “Why do you want me to stay away? What business is it of yours?” Grayshaw didn’t seem to be offended or angry, only slightly amused.

  “I don’t want her getting hurt.”

  “And I would hurt her?”

  “Haven’t you already?”

  Grayshaw waved a hand. “If she’d cared for me more, then perhaps you could say that. But she never did, she still doesn’t, and so I would argue that I haven’t hurt her in the least.”

  Damn him with his legal education. “Still, the way you look at her…as if you…” Would bed her or wed her or both. Leo couldn’t say it. The words stuck in his throat.

  “I won’t. She wouldn’t have me anyway. She’s in love with someone else.” He clapped Leo so hard on the shoulder that Leo stumbled forward.

  He recovered his footing and gave Grayshaw a glare, which did nothing to wipe the smile off his face.

  “She looked quite the lady in that gown,” Grayshaw said. “Regal almost. She could easily pass for nobility with that haughty bearing of hers.”

  “Haughty?” Leo echoed without really thinking. Grayshaw was right, he realized with a jolt. No one had suspected Alice wasn’t a lady. Not the people they passed in the street nor the Enderbys. The gown had looked like it belonged on her, and she had looked like she belonged on that horse with his mother’s emeralds around her neck.

  “She doesn’t seem like herself today,” Grayshaw said, snapping Leo’s attention into focus. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?” All teasing friendliness had disappeared from his tone and he watched Leo with a sharp gaze and rigid jaw.

  “What if it does?” Leo couldn’t help asking. He had to know what she meant to Grayshaw, how far he was willing to go to protect her.

  “If you did, I might have to challenge you to a duel, and we both know I abhor violence.”

  “Only because you know the blood spilled would be yours.”

  Grayshaw sighed. “True.” And with that, his stance relaxed.

  They both looked to the door and it suddenly opened. Alice emerged dressed in her normal clothing of simple woolen gown, the cloak over her arm, the bag in her hand. She looked no less ravishing than she had dressed as a noblewoman.

  The spark that had been missing all morning was back in her eyes. She must have shrugged off the melancholy she’d felt after Leo’s premature departure the night before. He wished he could shrug it off too. Unfortunately he was destined not to forget his actions so easily. He’d give anything to turn back time and finish what he’d begun in the guest room of Enderby’s house.

  Almost anything.

  Leo took the bag from her. She didn’t look in his direction but listened to Grayshaw as he confirmed what was in the letter.

  “No wonder Lord Hawkesbury didn’t want the letter to come to light,” she said. “Not only would his mother and sister be terribly upset, but suspicion would fall upon them all.”

  Leo nodded. “It’s quite likely the old earl involved his son in his plans. Ten years ago Hawkesbury was already an adult.”

  “Their property could be seized and the title stripped if the queen believed this evidence.” Grayshaw pointed to Leo’s doublet where the letter was safely stowed once more.

  “Poor Lady Hawkesbury,” Alice murmured.

  Leo nodded and bit the inside of his lip. Hawkesbury had a very good reason for marrying Patience Enderby. If her father gave the coded letter to Walsingham, Hawkesbury’s family would be plunged into dangerous waters. Leo felt sorry for him, he even understood his actions, but that didn’t mean he had to like him. Son of a traitor or not, he still got Lilly with child. If he’d only possessed enough self-control around her they wouldn’t all be in this predicament.

  Self-control…Christ.

  Leo stared at Alice. She stared back, challenging. She’s in love with someone else—so Grayshaw said. In love with Leo.

  Christ, why hadn’t he seen it? Why had he encouraged her, kissed her, made love to her?

  Because he was a bloody fool, no better than Hawkesbury. Hell. What a monumental mistake.

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Are you ready, Mistress Croft? I’ll escort you home.” It would give them precious minutes to talk. He had something to say to her. Something important.

  CHAPTER 21

  After all she’d just learned from Grayshaw about Hawkesbury’s predicament, Alice thought concentrating on that particular topic and not her own woes would have been easy. It wasn’t. The London sun shone down on her and Warhurst as they rode the horses through the streets back to her house, or more specifically around the corner from her house. They couldn’t risk anyone seeing them together when she was supposed to have spent the night at Min’s.

  As she rode, she tried not to think about the beautiful crimson gown squashed into the bag strapped to Warhurst’s saddle. She tried not to notice the lack of greetings from strangers passing by, and tried not to think about that kiss and the way Warhurst had abruptly ended it.

  She tried and failed.

  She glanced across at him and was surprised to see him watching her with an expression as grave as any mourner.

  “What is it?” she asked. “You have a strange look on your face.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said and looked away.

  Sorry? For the way he’d treated her last night? Good. Hopefully he was consumed by guilt. It was no less than he deserved.

  They reached the next street along from her house and dismounted. She passed the reins to Warhurst. He took them, his hands as far from hers as possible, and turned his green eyes on her. They were bleak and dulled by wintry shadows. “Goodbye, Mistress Croft.”

  The world tilted. She clutched at the saddle to steady herself. He said it with such finality. “It doesn’t have to be good-bye.” Her voice sounded small, weak, but it was all she could manage through a throat clogging with tears. Please don’t let this be good-bye.

  “It does.” His knuckles went white around the reins. “You and I do not have a future together and to continue this…dalliance is not fair to either of us.”

  Blood rushed from her head to her toes then back up again. She felt giddy and her insides roiled. “Dalliance? That’s what you think t
his is? That’s how you think I feel?”

  “Don’t. Don’t do this, you’ll only make it worse.”

  “Worse! How can it get any worse?”

  “By prolonging this parting.”

  He made to leave but she caught the mare’s bridle. “No, you’re not getting off so lightly. I want to hear you say that our kisses meant nothing to you. That the night at your house meant nothing. Because it meant…” Her voice cracked but she forced herself to go on. “It meant everything to me.”

  He bowed his head but not before she saw him close his eyes. “Please. Mistress Croft, please just leave. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t make me…”

  “What?” she prompted when he didn’t go on. “Don’t make you feel any guiltier than you already do?”

  He shook his head but didn’t look up. “What happened between us was wrong. I should have shown more restraint.”

  “You think you could have restrained yourself? Ha!”

  “I should not have engaged your affections.”

  “I seem to recall your affections being similarly engaged.”

  He sucked in a breath as if he’d been punched. “You and I can never wed.”

  Ah. Matrimony. Of course. She wondered when it would rear its head. It hurt to hear him be so blunt, like a knife had been thrust into her heart and twisted. She battled against tears but lost. His face turned white as his gaze tracked the tear down her cheek.

  She swiped it away. “Is this your way of asking me to be your mistress?”

  He went whiter. “I don’t take mistresses.”

  “Why not?”

  She had to set fire to his heart, try to melt it somehow before it was too late. This was her last chance, and she had to take it or be forever wondering, regretting.

  “That’s not important.”

  “It is to me.”

  He remained silent.

  “Is it to do with your father?” she said. “And how he left your mother for his mistress?”

  Color flooded back into his face. “How do you know about that?”

  “Charles told me.” She took a deep breath. “He also told me about the financial difficulties that still dog your estate because of your father’s actions.”

  “Bloody Grayshaw.”

  “It’s not his fault, I pressed him. Leo, you’re not like your father.”

  “You never knew him.”

  “Nor did you. He died when you were young.”

  “I know what he was like,” he growled. He leaned against the mare, turning her around, positioning her between himself and Alice.

  She followed him and caught his arm before he moved it again. “You are not your father.”

  His muscles tensed and he shook her off. “Let me explain it to you simply so that you understand,” he said, rounding on her. Where before there was bleakness, now he was all hard, sharp angles. There would be no melting a heart made of stone. “You are a seamstress and I am the Baron Warhurst.”

  His words slapped her, forced her back. Tears streamed down her face and she didn’t stop them or hide them. She didn’t care. All she could do was shake her head and hope that the man she loved would come to his senses and stop this cruelty.

  But he did not.

  “My sister’s plight is a scandal waiting to blow up in my face,” he said. “I don’t need another scandal attached to my name.”

  “Another scandal?” she muttered. “You mean me?”

  “I mean you. I can’t have my name ruined, not now when I need to secure finances for mines. I’m sure Grayshaw told you about that too,” he sneered.

  “A scandal. That’s what I am to you? A hindrance to your future?”

  “My duty is to my family, my title, and my estate. I have to do what is right for them now. You know my father’s history, you know why I cannot raise loans, and if you care for me, you would not want me to destroy everything in the same manner.”

  She stared at him, her mind a jumble of bitter, angry, and desperate words. Did he really care so much for his duty that he would hurt her like this? That he would set aside his heart’s desire? Because she knew he cared for her. His emotions had been so raw during their lovemaking, so open, she had to believe that was the real Leo.

  There had been a connection between them. She thought he liked her and wanted to be with her, loved her perhaps. Their kisses and lovemaking had not been light, meaningless affairs. A strong bond had developed between them, deeper than mere friendship. She felt it through her entire body; it ached like the devil and lifted her up at the same time. He must have felt it too. Yet he did not look or sound like a man in love. He looked like he meant every harsh word.

  “I’ll send you enough money to cover the first rent on a shop as soon as I am home,” he said levelly. “Good-bye, Alice.”

  She watched him lead the horses away until he turned the corner. There was no point going after him. No point making a bigger fool of herself.

  She stood on the street for goodness knows how long. Eventually the tears stopped and her heart restarted, although numbness had set in, thank God. It was better to be dull-witted than to think.

  Picking up her bag, she made her way toward the bridge. It was early but travelers were already out in great numbers, most crossing the river into the city but some heading the same way as Alice. It was market day at Eastcheap and farmers drove their sheep over the bridge, blocking traffic in both directions. Ordinarily it would frustrate her, but not today. Today she hardly noticed them.

  When she reached the Rose, Alice asked after her father.

  “He’s upstairs,” said Henry.

  “Are you all right?” Will asked, frowning. “You look wretched.”

  “I’m just tired.” She tried to smile but Will’s frown only deepened.

  She headed up the stairs before he could ask more questions. Behind her, Freddie belched. Style yelled at the boy and Freddie belched again.

  Upstairs in the storage room, her father sat on the closed lid of a large coffer, a threaded needle in one hand, a white Roman toga across his lap. “Alice! There you are.”

  She ducked under a blue cape hanging from the overhead beam. A dark patch marred the bottom edge of the fabric and it reeked of ale. It must be Freddie’s costume.

  “Are you all right, love?” her father asked, setting aside his mending. “You don’t look well.”

  Suddenly it was all too much. Her legs turned to water and she crumpled to the floor beside her father’s feet and burst into tears again.

  “There, there,” he said, stroking her hair. “Tell me what’s bothering you and I’ll set it right.”

  He couldn’t set it right. No one could. Leo didn’t love her. He didn’t even care enough to speak kindly to her. She drew in deep breaths and when her sobs eased, she told her father her heart had been broken. She gave him no particulars and mentioned no names. It felt a little better getting it off her chest finally, but not much. Her heart still felt like a bleeding, shredded mess.

  “I know it hurts, love,” he said. “But there’ll be others.” He patted her shoulder, gave her a sympathetic smile, and handed her a cape that needed mending.

  She wiped away her tears and took it. He really should have been blessed with sons instead of daughters. Perhaps by the time Jane was ready to marry, he would understand women a little more.

  They worked in silence until just before the start of the performance, when a package arrived for Alice. Inside was a small pouch of coins and a short message:

  The money for the first month’s rent.

  Warhurst

  That was it. No apology, no mention of their past together or a repeat of his reasons for his cruel words to her earlier. Not that he needed to repeat them. They were etched into her heart. His feelings for her were nothing compared to the obligation he felt toward his family. She was one scandal too many.

  And a seamstress he couldn’t afford either. She didn’t want his money, not now. The shop would only serve as a remin
der of what she’d had and lost.

  She returned the money to the pouch and headed out of the tiring house while no one was looking.

  “Good, you’re here,” Leo said upon entering his mother’s withdrawing room. “We need to talk.”

  “Talk about what?” Lady Warhurst asked over the top of the letter she was reading.

  He tried to stand beside the fireplace but it was too hot and his limbs needed the exercise so he crossed the room. His mother swiveled to follow him.

  “Sorry, I’m just…” Miserable. “I have two things to tell you, Mother. The first is that Hawkesbury will soon be released from his obligation to marry Enderby’s daughter.” He went on to explain about the letter, leaving out the detail of how he’d obtained it because that involved Alice and she was the last person he wanted to talk about. It would only serve to remind him of the weight crushing his heart.

  I will conquer this. “I’m going to confront Enderby this very day,” he said. “I want him to see that now he no longer has the letter in his possession, he’s in quite a predicament. He won’t want Walsingham to know that he failed to pass on a very important missive.”

  His mother put down her letter. “Is that wise, Leo? Lord Enderby is no fool. He won’t like being forced into a corner.”

  “It’s a corner of his own making. Besides, he will have no choice but to relinquish Hawkesbury from his obligation to wed his daughter now that he has nothing to use as blackmail. I’ll inform Hawkesbury after I’ve seen Enderby. If he does love Lilly as you say, I expect him to ask my permission to wed her instead. If he doesn’t do it willingly—”

  She raised a hand. “I know, I know, you’ll force him. I hope this time it doesn’t end in violence. You’ve still got the bruises from your last encounter.”

  He touched his cheek. He’d forgotten about the cuts there.

  “You said there were two things you wanted to tell me. I take it the second thing isn’t quite so dramatic?”

  Leo swallowed and paced the room again. Lord but it was warm. “Why do you keep your fire so hot, Mother? It’s stifling in here.” He wiped the back of his neck above his ruff.

  “I find it quite comfortable, thank you, now stop moving about. It’s giving me backache.” When he didn’t stop she said, “Leo! The second thing…”