The Boleyn King Read Online Free PDF Page B

turned eighteen and the regency council was dissolved. He would retain a place as his nephew’s advisor, likely the most important, but it wouldn’t be the same as ruling England in all but name.
    “Courtenay.” Rochford dismissed his clerk abruptly and turned to Dominic. “You’ve done good work in Wales. Will the peace hold?”
    Dominic chose his words with care. “For a time. But when border lords are unduly harsh, they create enemies where there need be none.”
    “You do not approve of our measures.”
    “I am neither the king nor a member of the council. It is not for me to say.”
    Eyes dark with amusement, Rochford nodded. “Which brings me to my purpose for speaking with you.”
    Rochford led him into the chapel and straight through to the queen’s pew. Dominic was curious about his obvious desire for privacy—and a little wary. One could never be certain just what the Lord Protector might be going to say.
    He waved to Dominic to sit and did the same, leaning forward with hands clasped and elbows on his knees. “I have a proposal for you, Courtenay. I would like to train you as my personal envoy to the Continent. It would require you to travel and meet with various political and religious leaders. You would take your orders from me alone.”
    In the dead silence that followed, Dominic scrambled for an answer more sophisticated than Are you mad? “I’m not sure I understand.”
    Rochford raised one eyebrow. “I believe I spoke plain English.”
    Dominic felt the colour rise in his cheeks, and the humiliation of it made him blunt. “Why me? There are plenty of men older and better qualified for such a position.”
    “Yes, there are. But none who has the ear of the king the way you do. In one year, the regency ends. William will then choose his own council—and you will be on it. Do I think that, at twenty-two, you are too young to advise the king? I do. But as it appears you will be advising him whatever my opinion, I intend to make you as fit for the position as possible.”
    Dominic had to admit the wisdom of Rochford’s reasoning, even if he left out the part about using Dominic for his own ends. And, in spite of himself, he was flattered.
    Rochford said smoothly, “It is a proposal, not a command. I prefer an envoy who wants to serve, not one who is compelled to.”
    Dominic stood when Rochford did, surprised when the duke offered his hand and said, “To be honest, you’ve turned out better than I expected. You are a steadying influence on His Majesty. I only want to increase your ability to serve him.”
    How did the man do it? Just when Dominic thought he had him figured, Rochford turned around and did something so genuine and unexpected that Dominic was taken completely off guard. Although he would never understand Rochford, neither could he entirely dislike him.
    After William’s embrace, Elizabeth made him stand back so she could look at him. He had passed her in height two years ago, and the difference had only increased in the last few months. Where Elizabeth had the fair skin and red-gold hair of their father, William was undoubtedly a Boleyn, with his mother’s darker colouring and sulky, sensual mouth.
    Alerted by the turn to that mouth, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing.” He attempted to stare her down but was soon grinning. “When are you going to teach me how to read others like you do?”
    “As soon as you have learnt how to control your countenance.”
    “Fair enough,” he sighed. “Dominic was displeased with my gift to Minuette.”
    Elizabeth tilted her head in query, and William continued. “A Spanish jennet. If she’s to be your lady, she needs a horse of her own, not whatever she can borrow at stables along the way.”
    As mildly as possible, Elizabeth said, “I could have provided her a horse myself.”
    “Why may I not do the same?”
    “Because people will talk. Minuette is young and pretty and orphaned. If you destroy her reputation with