The Boleyn Reckoning Read Online Free PDF Page A

that.”
    Robert gave a strangled laugh through the pressure on his throat. “Why is it always about Minuette? You, William—neither of you can think straight when it comes to that woman.”
    Even as he spoke, the words rang in Robert’s head with deeper meaning. Could it be … Dominic and William so close, sharing everything, but one thing that could never be shared was a woman …
    Robert might have whistled if he hadn’t been half choked, but the expression in his eyes must have been sufficient to alert Dominic. “Keep your conjectures to yourself,” Dominic said softly, pressing harder on his throat, and this time there was no mistaking the threat.
    Abruptly, he released Robert and stepped back. Walsingham had watched it all dispassionately, and Robert wondered what report he would make to Elizabeth. If he reported to her at all in this.
    “Easter is in two weeks.” Dominic’s habitual control was firmly locked in place once more. “The court will be at Whitehall. On Easter Monday, I will come again. And you will tell me everything. Places, orders, plots … and names.”
    “If I don’t?” Robert couldn’t help himself; it was second nature to spar.
    “Then I tell William that you have confessed to intending to divorce your wife, marry Elizabeth, and kill the king himself in order to rule England.”
    There was a sound from Walsingham, something between amusement and approval. Robert looked into Dominic’s hard eyes and said slowly, “I understand.”
    As the two walked out, Robert called after them. “Dominic? Someone has taught you well. But he’s still better at ruthless than you are.”
    William prayed alone, as he did so many things these days. A relative term, to be sure—there was a gentleman standing against the door of his private chapel, with more outside to guard against intrusion—but he had spent more time with fewer people in the last four months than in his entire life.
    He prayed silently, the same words he’d offered to Heaven since the moment he’d woken from near-death.
I thank Thee for Thy grace and salvation. I thank Thee for the sign of Thy favour in sparing my life. Make me worthy. Make me Thy weapon, Lord
.
    And running beneath, the wordless plea of every waking hour:
May I please Thee, Lord, that Thou wilt make me whole
.
    For what could the smallpox have been but a sign of God’s displeasure? William had spent many hours contemplating his sins as his body mended, and he had come to two unshakable conclusions. First, that he had sinned greatly with his lies to his people and all of Europe about his marital intentions. Second, that for him to heal completely—and no, he was not necessarily expecting that the scars on his cheek would disappear overnight (though he wasn’t necessarily
not
expecting it, either)—and in order for his mind to be settled after the great upheaval of nearly dying, he must tell the truth about the woman he loved.
    William let his plea to Heaven settle into his bones, to be carried with him everywhere, and opened his eyes. He did not rise, not yet. Dominic was expected any minute and William would hear the report of Northumberland’s end firsthand. But while he remained on his knees, he could think.
    There was much to think about. Just because he wanted to tell the truth of his love did not mean it was a straightforward task.Though William had been physically isolated for much of the last four months, he was not ignorant of the happenings in his kingdom and the wider world. The French troops that had instigated last autumn’s battles had seemingly vanished from the Scots landscape. Mary of Guise, regent for her daughter, had made formal protest against the subsequent English incursions but they had lacked heat and the force of righteousness. Which was to be expected, since the French were in the wrong and everyone knew it. Not eighteen months ago William had sat across from King Henri of France as the monarchs signed a treaty of peace.