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Brampton patted his wife’s restraining hand, then straightened his cap that had been knocked askew. “I told that whey-faced servant that I wished to speak to the earl.” He glared down at Taverstock, who sniffed at his boots. “You are Thomas, as I recall?”
“I am, and I am.”
Brampton rolled his eyes to the heavens. “I am glad you are Thomas,” he said, drawing out his words. “Now, may I please speak with your father?”
“You cannot,” Thomas snapped. Sweet Jesu! How he wished that Brampton could. He helped himself to a cup of wine from the table.
Brampton sputtered. “By heaven, sir, we have come on a matter most urgent I have no time to talk in riddles.”
“Nor have I.” Thomas drained his wine. Over the rim of his cup, he watched the girl try to entice Vixen into her charmed circle. Sweat popped out on his brow. Very warm for this season, he thought with discomfort.
Brampton slammed his fist on the table, rattling the wine pitcher. “Where is the Earl of Thornbury?”
Thomas replaced his cup with deliberate care. “You are speaking to him.”
Brampton’s jaw sagged open. “You jest!” He appeared to deflate under his cloak.
“Nay.” Thomas readjusted his sliding black band. “Gaol fever. My father, then my brothers. They caught it in June at the assizes in York.” Pausing, he pressed his lips together to hold back the pain that welled up inside of him. “I remained at home.”
“May God have mercy on their souls,” Lady Brampton murmured, making the sign of the cross.
“Amen,” Thomas muttered under his breath.
“Amen,” echoed the girl in a soft voice. The heartfelt emotion in her simple word pierced Thomas to his heart. He couldn’t look at her.
A stricken expression swept across Brampton’s face. “All dead?”
Thomas nodded, not trusting his voice.
The older man shot his wife a quick look, then asked, “Did your father ever chance to speak to you of your marriage?”
The young earl grimaced. His father had rarely spoken to his third son except to find fault with him or one of his dogs. The old earl had never talked of gentler matters. Thomas shook his head.
“God save us!” Brampton poured himself more wine, then downed it in one gulp.
At this rate, Thomas wondered which of them would get drunk first. He held his tongue as he studied the older man. Long experience had taught him that people grew uncomfortable with silence, and would gabble anything to fill the void. By and by, he would learn Brampton’s innermost thoughts.
Sir Edward drew himself to his full height. Even so, he was still half a head shorter than Thomas.
“I am sorry for your loss,” his guest began in a firmer tone. “But my mission is still the same. Ten years ago, your father and I struck an agreement whereby you would marry my Alicia at the proper time.” He glanced fondly at the girl seated amid the dogs. “I had planned to keep her one more year. She is barely seventeen.”
Suddenly Thomas remembered the man. “You are the goldsmith—Roger Broom.”
Surprise widened Brampton’s dark brown eyes. “By the book! You have a better memory than I expected. Aye, ‘twas a disguise. Your father knew my true identity. But no more of this, the hour hurries past us. My wife and I must face for the coast before our ship sails for the Lowlands.”
Thomas grunted in reply, though his mind whirled at this news. Why disguised? Now why the flight?
“Alicia?” he asked aloud.
“By written agreement, and the dowry I paid to your father, Alicia is contracted to marry you. And the sooner, the better for her sake,” Brampton added in almost a whisper.
Thomas felt as if a lance had struck a blow against his chest. He glanced at the girl. She smiled back at him. He couldn’t breathe. She rose from the floor, then stepped over the sated Georgie. Hoy day! She stood nearly as tall as Brampton. She tossed her thick braid of hair over her shoulder as she advanced toward Thomas.
His heart thudded against his chest. She must hear its pounding, he thought. A drop of sweat rolled into his eye. He blinked. Her lush red lips parted. Her white teeth gleamed like little pearls. His hands grew clammy. A roaring filled his ears. He had never been this close to such perfection in his four-and-twenty years. His tongue seemed to swell two sizes larger, then it cleaved itself to the roof of his mouth.
She looked directly at him with a sparkle of her laughter in her matchless blue eyes. “Tell me, Sir Thomas,” she asked in tones of purest crystal. “Does your cook still make the most wonderful apple tarts in the world?”
Air! Thomas needed to breathe, or he would expire at her feet. He opened his mouth to answer that all the tarts in Wolf Hall were hers for the asking, but only a strangled gargle came out. Without attempting any more conversation, he wheeled around, and fled out of the hall. Taverstock and Vixen followed in hot pursuit. Georgie, that lumbering traitor, remained behind to enjoy more of Alicia’s caresses.
In the corridor, Thomas barely paused when he encountered his startled squire. “See to my guests,” he snapped at Andrew.
The slim boy lifted his eyebrows with surprise. “Aye, my lord.”
“Put her in the royal suite,” Thomas tossed over his shoulder. Tavie scrambled in his wake.
“Aye, my lord,” Andrew called after him. “I presume you are not referring to Vixen?”
The little greyhound gave him a reproachful look as she limped by.
“Go to the devil, Andrew.” Thomas shouted as he rounded the corner. “And take my Lord Brampton with you,” he added under his breath. He flung open the outer door. Fresh air! He drew in deep, cleansing draughts as he raced across the meadow to the safety of the sun-dappled forest.
“I am the greatest fool in all England!” He consoled himself by banging his head against an unforgiving tree trunk. Tavie and Vixen lay down among the dry leaves to watch their master make a complete idiot of himself.
Sir Edward threw his hat to the floor. “Bolts and shackles! A plague take him! I have half a mind to follow the jolthead, and bring him back to beg your forgiveness. What simpleton have I tied you to, Alicia?”
Lady Katherine laid her hand on his arm. “Peace, my husband. Methinks the young lord is consumed with grief at his sudden loss. Such a misfortune is apt to muddle one’s wits.”
“His wits were none too steady ten years ago,” Sir Edward growled, staring at the empty doorway. “But I had hopes that he would grow more wise with time.” He put an arm around Alicia. “Forgive me, my precious child. I have done you and your royal father a great disservice.”
Alicia shook her head. “Nay, Papa…I mean, Edward, I think not. I recall that Sir Thomas was kind to me when I was a child. Methinks the idea of a wife on his doorstep has much to do with his current distress.” She laughed softly. “Do you remember Peter Martext, the draper’s son? He often visited our shop. When I asked him if he needed help to choose a gold chain, he merely stared at me. You remarked he did not know how to converse with women. Perchance that is the case with Sir Thomas.”
Alicia’s lighthearted tone belied the twist of fear in her heart Dear Lord in heaven, what if her betrothed was truly mad? Though he looked to possess the strength of his Viking ancestors, what would she do if he could not protect her?
Yet the shy boy had grown into a most handsome man. Alicia had never seen such a pair of broad shoulders on anyone. His tight black hose left very little to the imagination. His waist tapered to slim hips and buttocks. His stockings bulged with large thigh and calf muscles, indicating a man who lived in the saddle. The black velvet of his mourning doublet set off his bright blond hair and flashing sapphire eyes. Those eyes did not reflect madness, merely shock.
Lady Katherine squeezed her husband’s arm. “Aye, Ned. I believe Alicia has hit upon the core of the problem.” She smiled up at him, a little too brightly.
Edward slapped his riding gloves against his palm. The huge mastiff rolled over, and regarded him with interest.
“What am I to do now? We must flee the king’s vengeance, yet I fear to leave you here alone, child. You must be safe.”
Alicia swept her gaze around the hall. The wainscoting of oaken panels appeared more black than a natural brown color. The plastered walls above the wood, once whitewashed, had taken on a gray color from many years of sooty fires and neglect. The carved pillars, also blackened by smoke, rose into the darkness of the vaulted ceiling. A faded red banner, looking more like a rag than a battle flag, hung crookedly over the chimneypiece. No gentle housekeeping hand had touched Wolf Hall in many a year. What the poor new earl needed was someone to let some fresh air and sunshine into his life.
“Wolf Hall looks stout enough to withstand an army,” she remarked, trying to sound braver than she really felt. “The only enemy I see is dirt and mismanagement.”
Sir Edward gathered her into his embrace. She was tall enough to look directly into his eyes, and to read his apprehension. “You have always been the practical one, my dove, but thick walls will not save you from the Tudor’s grasp, if the heart that rules within this castle is a weak one.”
Before Alicia could frame a reply, she heard someone cough discreetly behind her.
A youth, dressed in the height of fashion, but with colors of gray and black, swept them a bow. “My Lord Brampton, Lady Brampton, Mistress Broom, welcome to Wolf Hall.”
Sir Edward released Alicia, then strode toward the young man. “Who the devil are you?”
The young fop swept him another bow. “Andrew Ford, my lord. I have the honor of being squire to the Earl of Thornbury.”
Brampton groaned under his breath. “This farce grows worse and worse. An idiotic bear is served by a preening peacock,” he noted in an aside to his wife.
Undaunted by Sir Edward’s glower, Andrew Ford approached them. The slim boy looked no more than sixteen. His sleek, nut-brown hair fell to his jawline. The boy’s hazel eyes hinted of mischief.
“I have come to beg your pardon for my master’s hasty exit, my lord.” Andrew threw him a guileless smile. “Sir Thomas is unused to company of any sort—and most particularly that of two such beautiful ladies as yourselves.” He bowed again to Lady Katherine and Alicia.
Alicia regarded the boy with hidden amusement. This one must dine and sup on honey, and keep the tailors of York in constant employment.
Sir Edward assumed his most dignified demeanor. His ward had rarely seen that side of him in all her years of living under his roof. She still found it difficult to accept that he was a noble lord, while she, herself was…
Alicia pushed away the thought of her true identity. She must try to forget it completely. The sooner she cast off the name of Broom and became a Cavendish, the safer it would be for her. After that, she hoped she could bury the dangerous secret of her existence deep within the heart of Wolf Hall. She prayed that Sir Thomas would honor his father’s bond and marry her.
She did not want to be locked away in a nunnery for the rest of her life. She craved the love and companionship of a husband, and children to bear and nurture. Sunshine. Flowers. And especially animals. She glanced down at Georgie, who returned her look with a hopeful one of his own. Alicia leaned over, and rubbed his tawny ears. Georgie closed his eyes with a sigh of satisfaction.
Sir Edward towered over the boy. “When next you speak, Master Ford, pray do so with some firm purpose. Your lord has treated us in a most shabby manner, and has dishonored his bride. He is an ass.”
Though Andrew shook his head at this insult, his smile never left his face. “Hear me, my good lord, and so find understanding in your heart. My master is a good man, strong and true. He means no disrespect, and certainly not to so fair a maiden as Mistress Broom.” He turned his smile up a notch at Alicia.
She continued to rub Georgie’s ears. Best not to give the boy too much encouragement. He looked like the sort who fell madly in love every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
Sir Edward snapped his fingers several times. “Speak to me, squire. How can I be sure that my ward will be safe if I leave her in this…” He glared at Georgie. “In this kennel. Does your master often bolt from his chambers? Can he speak in more than a growl? Does he have the wit to be married? Can he care for my precious girl?”
“Aye, my lord, the earl can do all this and more. Mistress Broom will be safe at Wolf Hall. You have my word upon it.”
“Ha!” Sir Edward bared his teeth. “The word of a strutting popinjay? Tell me, Master Ford, does a razor frighten your beard yet?”
Two red spots appeared in the boy’s smooth cheeks. His smile clouded, but did not disappear entirely. “My lord, I am sorry if my apparel and my manner offend you. I had the honor to spend my formative years in the household of the Duke of Buckingham, where I learned how a gentleman should conduct himself. Even though I serve Sir Thomas in the wilds of Northumberland, I take pleasure in maintaining my little refinements. When I am full grown, I hope to find a place at court. In the meantime, I do not intend to become a barbarian while residing in the countryside.”
Alicia hid her smile behind her hand. She suspected that Andrew Ford made gladsome company in this old, neglected castle.
Sir Edward regarded the slender lad. “Very well, Sir Motley, I will leave Alicia—at your word. If I hear that she has been ill-used by your master or anyone else at Wolf Hall, I shall personally seek you out. When I am done with you, I will stuff you, your fine manners and your princely garb into an eel-skin, and feed you to the swine. Do we understand each other, squire?”
Andrew’s Adam’s apple bobbled up and down the column of his throat He squared his thin shoulders in their thickly padded jacket. “Aye, my Lord Brampton, perfectly. ‘Twill be my honor to serve the countess as I now serve her lord.”
Alicia blinked. Of course! She would become a countess upon her marriage. How quickly the world turned upon itself! She moistened her dry lips. Only last week, she had been serving customers in the goldsmith’s shop near the Micklegate. Now everything had turned topsy-turvy. The merchant’s daughter ceased to exist Yet the new Countess of Thornbury was still a figment of her imagination. Who was Alicia Broom now? A hunted enemy of the usurper who sat upon the throne of England. Her hand trembled as she stroked Georgie’s coarse fur.
Lady Katherine drew closer to Sir Edward. “My love, the sun begins to sink in the sky. We must hurry.”
Sir Edward grunted in his old familiar way. Alicia knew he was not happy with the decision he had to make. Her beloved foster parents must ride like the wind, or they would never reach their ship in time. If she thought she was in danger, how much more so was it for these two dearest people whom she had called Mama and Papa for so long?
Leaving Georgie to doze, she slipped her arms around their waists. “You must go. I shall be in good hands. Methinks Sir Thomas only needs a little time.”
“He needs more than that,” Brampton grumbled.
Alicia kissed his cheek. “And you have the word of Master Ford that I will be well taken care of. And I shall write to you often, and tell—”
Sir Edward gripped her, and whispered, “Nay, you must not write at all, my sweet. A letter could be intercepted, and could lead to your half brother’s death.”
Dickon’s handsome face, so like her own, rose up in her memory. She had not seen the little prince since he had been sent into hiding across the North Sea over a decade ago. Four years later, disguised as a Flemish boy named Perkin Warbeck, Dickon had returned to the south of England, where he challenged Henry Tudor for the throne. For six heart-stopping years, Dickon’s fortunes had waxed and waned.
Two weeks ago, sweet Dickon had been captured by Henry’s forces. Once again, he was imprisoned in the Tower of London, where he had been confined as a child. Her brother’s only hope for his life lay in the fact that no one realized that he was the true Richard, Duke of York, and the rightful heir to the throne. Sir Edward hoped that Dickon would be released, just as another pretender named Lambert Simnel had been. Her brother played his part by claiming he had been duped by greedy men. God save him.
Alicia hung her head. “I had forgotten. Forgive me, Papa…my lord.”
Sir Edward hugged her. “I am no lord to you, poppet. Though I could never take the place of your esteemed father, I pray that you will always think of Katherine and me as your loving parents.”
Tears pricked behind Alicia’s eyelids, though she swore to herself that she would not allow them to escape. It would make the parting more difficult. The time for tears came later. “How I love you both! I shall remember you forever.”
Katherine kissed her on the forehead. “And you will always be in our thoughts and prayers, child.”
“If you must contact us, do so by messenger—one that you can trust—and send to Bruges in care of the Goldsmith’s Guild there. But do not write unless ‘tis a matter of life and death. Oh, my child!” Sir Edward kissed her on the forehead. “Know that I leave my heart with you. Take good care of it until I return.”
Alicia bit her lips to keep them from quivering. “When will that be?”
Sir Edward’s brow darkened. “If your brother can escape, and make his way back to his aunt’s court in Burgundy, then I shall see you soon. If not…” He sighed.
Alicia traced her thumb over the furrows in his brow, wishing she could wipe them away. “Let us not think of the alternative. I shall pray for you and for Dickon.”
“If God hears anyone’s prayers, he will certainly hear yours, sweetest child.” After giving her another hug and a kiss, Sir Edward retrieved his hat from the floor. Then he bellowed at the waiting squire. “And you, Sir Twig! I hold you accountable for her in every respect.”
Andrew swept him another jaunty bow. “You have placed your trust wisely, my lord.”
“In whom, I wonder?” Brampton mused under his breath.
“In my good master, Sir Thomas Cavendish, my lord,” the youth replied. “And in myself, as his obedient servant.”
With a muttered oath, Sir Edward took his wife’s arm and propelled them both toward the castle’s entranceway. Pausing under the arch, he glanced back to Alicia. She smiled and waved at him, while her heart broke within her breast.
“Jesu, you were such a tiny thing when first I held you in my arms. Who knew what an angel you would become?”
“Papa…” Alicia could not utter another word.
Then they were gone.
She bit her knuckles to keep from bursting into tears on the spot. She must not show weakness now, especially in front of her betrothed’s squire.
Andrew offered her his arm. “The first night is the worst,” he confided.
Alicia blinked back the moisture from her eyes. “Your pardon?”
“The absence of your parents.” Andrew tucked her hand within the crook of his arm. “‘Tis worst the first night, then becomes easier. I know.”
She sniffed. “How did you come by this sage knowledge? Were you homesick at the Duke of Buckingham’s?”
