The Prince of Lies: Night's Masque - Book 3 (22 page)

Many? How many guisers were there in England? He reined in his impatience to question her. She was probably bluffing.

“I won’t let you stay here,” he said.

“Oh? And how will you get rid of me?” She folded her arms. “Expose my true sex, perhaps? That
would
be a scandal, a woman disguising herself as a young man for months at a time.”

She fell silent, but the unspoken threat was as clear as day. Expose “Bartolomeo” as a woman, and Olivia would denounce Coby for the same and worse.

“The skraylings still want you back,” he said. “I’m sure we can find you a safer route home this time.”

Olivia laughed. “If the skraylings were so anxious to have me, I’m sure they would have done something by now. Alas for you, I think they value their trade with England more than one poor lost soul.”

“They don’t want to see a guiser on the throne any more than I do.”

“But I’m not on the throne, am I? Besides, that was never my way, as well you know–”

Footsteps sounded behind him. Mal turned to see the source, and when he turned back, Olivia was gone. He cursed loudly, earning a startled look from the gardener’s boy whose arrival had given Olivia the means to evade him.

“Master Catlyn?” the boy whispered. “I have the report you asked for.”

Mal drew the boy aside, well away from any hiding places where they could be overheard, and listened to his recitation. The lad was illiterate, of course, but sometimes that was for the best. No written evidence to betray them.

“And you’re certain the alchemist has not been seen at Syon House this past twelvemonth?” he asked when the boy was finished.

“Aye, sir. Jennet knows all the ways in and out and the secret places–” Even in the dark, Mal could tell the boy was blushing “–and she says he’s not been there since before Michaelmas last.”

Mal thanked him and gave him a handful of money for his pains; small coins that would not draw attention in the hand of an ill-paid servant. No use in pursuing an invitation to Syon House, then. Wherever Northumberland was keeping his pet alchemist, it wasn’t at home.

CHAPTER XV

Though Mal’s presence at Richmond did much to lighten her days, Coby had not forgotten her other duties. There was still the question of Lady Derby’s visits to Syon House; if she was not going to meet Shawe or any of her lovers, what was she up to? Then there was Lady Frances’s daughter to keep an eye on. Through patient coaxing Coby learnt that Elizabeth had grown up at her grandfather’s house, Barn Elms, only a few miles east of Richmond Palace. It sounded a lonely childhood, with only nursemaids and tutors for company and occasional visits from her widowed mother. No wonder she was endlessly excited by even the dullest activities at court, though at the same time painfully shy and fearful of attention.

One afternoon they were sitting together in one of the window seats, making the most of the fading light. “Bartolomeo” had just finished entertaining them with a song and was refreshing his throat with a cup of honeyed wine.

“He sings so prettily,” Elizabeth said, gazing at Bartolomeo with ill-disguised admiration. “I wish I could speak Italian. Mamma made sure I learnt French and Latin and even a little Greek, but Master Cottenham said Italian was not a fit tongue for ladies: too passionate and like to turn their thoughts astray.”

“I think your tutor was right,” Coby replied.

She was not about to encourage the girl by teaching her the few Italian phrases she remembered from her time in Venice. On the contrary, the less Elizabeth had to do with Olivia the better, especially if her betrothed was Jathekkil’s
amayi
. Poor child, caught in the midst of such scheming without the slightest idea of what was going on.

The room fell silent as a page in the livery of the Prince of Wales’s household entered.

“Your Highness,” the youth said, staring straight ahead, “your royal husband requests the pleasure of your company, and that of your ladies and your servant Bartolomeo, at tomorrow morning’s hunt.”

Elizabeth immediately set her sewing down on her lap and leaned forward, eyes bright with anticipation.

The princess’s lips tightened briefly. “Please thank His Highness, but as he well knows, I care little for the hunting.”

A sigh of disappointment ran around the ladies-in-waiting. Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged, and Coby glimpsed bitter frustration in Lady Derby’s countenance before she managed to hide it. The countess had set her sights higher than the Earl of Essex, it seemed. Perhaps it would be wise to find out just where her ambitions lay.

“Such a pity,” Coby said brightly. “I expect the Earl of Rutland will want to ride out with his betrothed, but she cannot go alone.”

The princess frowned at her. “Well, I suppose there can be no harm if you accompany her, my dear. I would not keep the gentlemen from their pleasures.”

“Lady Catlyn cannot be relied upon to watch Mistress Sidney,” Lady Derby said. “Her husband will surely be there, and he will forever be distracting her.”

The ladies giggled, and Coby flushed. She thought she and Mal had been discreet here, far more discreet than back home in Derbyshire.

“Perhaps we should both go, Lady Derby,” Coby said. “I am sure you are far less easily distracted than I.”

Juliana’s eyes narrowed, and Coby cursed her misstep. Now it looked as if the two of them were colluding to get Lady Derby and the prince together.

“Oh no, I d-d-don’t want to be any trouble,” Elizabeth said, twisting her hands in her lap. “I will gladly stay here, Your Highness–”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Princess Juliana said stiffly. “Of course you must go, Lady Derby. You look so pinched and thin these days; a little fresh air will do you good.”

Lady Derby bridled almost imperceptibly at the insult but forced a smile. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

The atmosphere in the princess’s presence chamber was frosty for the rest of the afternoon, and Coby was relieved beyond measure when she and the other ladies were finally excused. Lady Derby caught Coby’s elbow as they left.

“Thank you for what you said earlier, Lady Catlyn. I swear I feel like a caged bird here.”

Yes, well, nothing is keeping you here but your own wicked ambition.
 

“It is rather dull sometimes,” Coby replied aloud. “I am glad to have a friend who feels the same way.”

“We could be sisters,” Lady Derby gave her a disarming smile. “Now, if you will excuse me, I had better tell my maidservant to unpack my riding habit.”

Coby watched her leave with a sinking heart. A riding habit? That was not something she had thought of when she put together a wardrobe for her new station in life. She ran upstairs to look through her gowns in the hope of finding something suitable.

Early next morning Coby made her way down to the stable yard with Elizabeth Sidney. They had been invited to the formal breakfast before the hunt, but Elizabeth was so nervous and excited that she looked fit to vomit up the rich food. Instead they breakfasted in Coby’s apartments on bread and small ale. Mal had already left to attend upon the prince, and Sandy was taking Kit for an early walk, so they had the place to themselves for a while. The peace and solitude seemed to soothe Elizabeth’s nerves, and at last she felt able to take Coby’s hand and go down to join the hunt.

The stable yard was such a mêlée of horses, hounds and men, Coby wondered that they had not already frightened away every deer within a dozen miles of Richmond Park.

“There he is!” Elizabeth cried, her hand tightening on Coby’s. “Is he not handsome?”

For one moment Coby thought only of Mal, but there was no sign of her husband amongst the throng of courtiers, servants, foresters and kennel-masters required of such a grand enterprise.

“Who, dear?”

“Why, Rutland, of course. My betrothed.”

Coby followed Elizabeth’s gaze to a young gentleman with short red-brown hair beneath a high-crowned beaver hat. His moustache had been bleached a yellow colour and waxed so that it stuck out on either side in a sharp point, perhaps to divert attention from his equally pointed chin. Not an ill-favoured young man, but not what Coby would call handsome.

“There you are, my dears!” Lady Derby’s smile did not quite reach her eyes, though the pleasure in her voice sounded genuine enough. “I wondered where you had got to; you missed the assembly and the displaying of the fewmets and everything.”

The countess stepped around her mare, and Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. Lady Derby wore an expertly tailored bodice of dark green wool, with a matching pair of knee-length breeches in the Venetian style. White silk stockings and embroidered leather shoes completed the ensemble, which showed off the countess’s curvaceous figure to great advantage.

“Don’t look so shocked, my dear,” Lady Derby said with a laugh. “The Queen herself used to wear them for hunting when she was young. Far more practical than skirts, don’t you think?”

Over Lady Derby’s shoulder Coby could see Olivia watching them, green eyes twinkling with amusement. She was spared any further embarrassment, however, by the arrival of a groom with her own mount.

“We shall have to get you a proper hunter as well, Lady Catlyn,” Lady Derby said, springing lithely into the saddle. “Now that you are at court, you must insist that your husband equips you properly.”

Coby forced a smile. She had spent too many years making do with hand-me-downs to feel easy about spending an entire year’s wages on one set of clothes – or on a horse she would seldom ride.

A change in the chaos around her heralded the arrival of Prince Robert. The heir to the throne was said to take after his late father a great deal, being tall and straight of build, with dark hair now turning silver at the temples. He wore a magnificent riding habit of black leather and red velvet, though with little other ornament: a hint of lace at collar and cuffs, a black plume in his cap affixed with a jewelled brooch, a heavy gold ring on his right hand. His solemn blue eyes seemed to take them all in, weigh their worth and stow the information away for later consideration.

Coby glanced across at Lady Derby but the countess had modestly lowered her gaze, though she was blushing furiously, no doubt from more than the chill morning air. Robert’s gaze drifted down to take in the revealing garments. Cool appreciation, but no flicker of surprise, Coby noted. Had he been forewarned? Perhaps Lady Derby always dressed like this for riding, and it was only Coby who found it remarkable.

At last the hunting party was ready and they began to move out into the park. Mist lingered beneath the oak trees, turning the undergrowth into a maze of grey lacework. A place where one could be hidden from one’s companions, though they were mere yards away.

“Found you at last.”

Coby turned with a start to see her husband riding at her side.

“Where did you spring from?”

“So disappointed to see me?” He nudged his gelding closer, until Coby’s skirts brushed against his calf.

“I was just thinking that a hunt is the perfect opportunity to slip away from prying eyes for a tryst.”

He grinned. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Not us,” she hissed, waving her riding crop at him in mock chastisement. “Bartolomeo. Lady Derby. Rutland. We have three of them to keep an eye on, and only two of us. You should have brought Sandy.”

“My brother does not care for hunting. I think you know why.”

“Oh. Of course. Sorry.” Mal had told her about how Erishen had been ridden down and murdered in the hills near Rushdale. She knew Mal still had nightmares about it from time to time, mostly when he was worried about Sandy.

“I’ll follow Rutland,” Mal said, breaking into her train of thought, “and you can take Lady Derby. If we see either of them with Olivia, we’ll know who to suspect.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, as much to God as to her husband. She had prayed Mal would not suggest following Olivia himself. She ought to trust him – did trust him – but she did not trust the Venetian woman. Not an inch.

Ahead of them, the yipping of the hounds turned into a clamour of baying.

“The hunt is up!”

The formal procession along the trail dispersed as the leading horses broke into a canter. Mal’s chestnut pulled ahead, disappearing into the throng. Coby cursed and clung to her little mare. As someone who had fled pursuit on too many occasions her heart was with the buck, not his hunters, and she rather hoped he would get away.

Coby had no idea how big the park was, but they seemed able to ride forever and not come to the end of it, as if the paths led into an enchanted world made up entirely of forest. She was soon totally disoriented and chilled to the bone, mist condensing on her hair and clothes in hundreds of minute beads like Venetian glass. She reined her mount to a halt and wiped her dripping nose on the back of a damp sleeve. The other riders were blurred shapes in the mist, melting into invisibility. She spurred her mare into a canter and caught up with the rest of the party again.

“Isn’t this splendid?” Lady Derby turned and smiled at her. “I’m afraid the hounds have lost the scent again. Still, there’s time yet.”

The mist was starting to disperse now, though it was still cold and the sun little more than a white paper circle in a grey sky. The hunters had gathered in a clearing and servants were passing round cups of wine that had been warmed over a portable brazier. No wonder the deer were able to give them the slip, with all this noise and stink invading their woods. Coby accepted a cup of wine and looked around for Lady Derby, but there was no sign of her. Or of the prince. Spotting a side-path that led away from the main party, Coby dismounted and tied up her mare, then slipped away. If anyone remarked on her departure, she could always say she was looking for a quiet spot in which to relieve herself.

The prince and his companions paused for a stirrup-cup before riding on again in pursuit of the buck. Mal followed behind, keeping a close eye on Rutland. The young earl had lured his betrothed away from Lady Derby and they were riding side-by-side, laughing. Olivia was nowhere to be seen.

As the party cantered up a steep bank Elizabeth Sidney’s mare sidestepped a tree root, causing her rider to tumble from the saddle into the path of the oncoming horses. Mal pulled Hector to an abrupt halt, leapt down and ran to her aid.