the horse her head. “Try and catch me,” she called over her shoulder.
Elizabeth grumbled, “Why does this feel so familiar—Minuette and Will doing whatever comes into their heads while you and I pick up the pieces afterward? I’m going to have to learn to say no to her before she does something irredeemably reckless.”
“She’s not reckless. Just … willful,” Dominic said. “And you’re not the one who needs to say no to her.”
He kicked his horse into motion and Elizabeth followed suit, foreboding playing along her nerves.
Two days after Eleanor’s wedding, William sat in his privy chamber with his grim-faced uncle waiting for Dominic to arrive. He had been pulled out of the most private of his bedchambers at midnight—from Eleanor’s arms—straight to an emergency session of the regency council.
The treaty with France was indeed lost. Earlier this evening, the French ambassador had finally deigned to wait upon the Lord Protector and inform him that King Henri’s brother, lately betrothed to Elizabeth, had married the niece of the Holy Roman Emperor. England’s greatest fear had come true—France was allying itself with Spain.
Rochford had proposed sending a delegation straight to the Netherlands in response. If the Catholics were aligning themselves against England, then it was in England’s best interest to come out in open alliance with the Protestant nations of Europe. The Duke of Norfolk debated the idea—more for form’s sake than because he really disagreed, William thought—but in the end, the vote was unanimous. Not that it mattered. Rochford’s vote was the one that counted.
But William was king, and it was his voice that had given the order for Lord Sussex to head a delegation to the Queen of the Netherlands and open negotiations for a formal treaty.
William had risen with relief as the council departed, anxious to return to Eleanor.
But his uncle had stayed him and sent a page to summon Dominic. As Rochford seemed disinclined to explain himself, William sat in silence and let his mind wander away from the tangle of European politics.
Eleanor was everything he’d hoped for. She had proven that she could read his moods and knew instinctively how to meet each one—soothing when he was angry, sympathetic when he was tired, and playful when he was eager. And he had not misremembered her skill in bed. What more could he want?
When Dominic entered the room, he looked straight at his king and William had the disconcerting sense that Dom could see right into his thoughts. He didn’t know why that bothered him. Dominic was five years older and had certainly enjoyed any number of women.
Rochford was terse even for him. “Courtenay, I need you ready to ride in an hour. There’s a ship at Dover ready to weigh anchor on tomorrow’s tides. You are to tell no one where you are going.”
“Where am I going?”
“France.”
Dominic didn’t look particularly surprised. “Shouldn’t you be sending a larger delegation?”
“I’m not hoping for a treaty from this. I’m hoping for … insight.”
“You want a spy.”
“I want an envoy.”
The two men stared at each other until William grew impatient and broke in. “For heaven’s sake, sit down, Dom.”
He took over the explaining, trusting his uncle to interrupt him if he got any of it wrong. He knew he wouldn’t. “A delegation will leave within the week for the Netherlands. We can’t afford to overlook obvious avenues of alliance. And I don’t mind putting pressure on Henri. He thinks he can overawe me because I’m young. This is a bluff—Henri doesn’t want war. All we have to do is show him that his best interests lie in a treaty with England.”
“And how am I supposed to accomplish that?” Dominic asked with pardonable skepticism.
Rochford took over. “You aren’t. I am. I need you at Henri’s court to give me eyes and ears into the situation so that I will know where and when to apply
Elizabeth grumbled, “Why does this feel so familiar—Minuette and Will doing whatever comes into their heads while you and I pick up the pieces afterward? I’m going to have to learn to say no to her before she does something irredeemably reckless.”
“She’s not reckless. Just … willful,” Dominic said. “And you’re not the one who needs to say no to her.”
He kicked his horse into motion and Elizabeth followed suit, foreboding playing along her nerves.
Two days after Eleanor’s wedding, William sat in his privy chamber with his grim-faced uncle waiting for Dominic to arrive. He had been pulled out of the most private of his bedchambers at midnight—from Eleanor’s arms—straight to an emergency session of the regency council.
The treaty with France was indeed lost. Earlier this evening, the French ambassador had finally deigned to wait upon the Lord Protector and inform him that King Henri’s brother, lately betrothed to Elizabeth, had married the niece of the Holy Roman Emperor. England’s greatest fear had come true—France was allying itself with Spain.
Rochford had proposed sending a delegation straight to the Netherlands in response. If the Catholics were aligning themselves against England, then it was in England’s best interest to come out in open alliance with the Protestant nations of Europe. The Duke of Norfolk debated the idea—more for form’s sake than because he really disagreed, William thought—but in the end, the vote was unanimous. Not that it mattered. Rochford’s vote was the one that counted.
But William was king, and it was his voice that had given the order for Lord Sussex to head a delegation to the Queen of the Netherlands and open negotiations for a formal treaty.
William had risen with relief as the council departed, anxious to return to Eleanor.
But his uncle had stayed him and sent a page to summon Dominic. As Rochford seemed disinclined to explain himself, William sat in silence and let his mind wander away from the tangle of European politics.
Eleanor was everything he’d hoped for. She had proven that she could read his moods and knew instinctively how to meet each one—soothing when he was angry, sympathetic when he was tired, and playful when he was eager. And he had not misremembered her skill in bed. What more could he want?
When Dominic entered the room, he looked straight at his king and William had the disconcerting sense that Dom could see right into his thoughts. He didn’t know why that bothered him. Dominic was five years older and had certainly enjoyed any number of women.
Rochford was terse even for him. “Courtenay, I need you ready to ride in an hour. There’s a ship at Dover ready to weigh anchor on tomorrow’s tides. You are to tell no one where you are going.”
“Where am I going?”
“France.”
Dominic didn’t look particularly surprised. “Shouldn’t you be sending a larger delegation?”
“I’m not hoping for a treaty from this. I’m hoping for … insight.”
“You want a spy.”
“I want an envoy.”
The two men stared at each other until William grew impatient and broke in. “For heaven’s sake, sit down, Dom.”
He took over the explaining, trusting his uncle to interrupt him if he got any of it wrong. He knew he wouldn’t. “A delegation will leave within the week for the Netherlands. We can’t afford to overlook obvious avenues of alliance. And I don’t mind putting pressure on Henri. He thinks he can overawe me because I’m young. This is a bluff—Henri doesn’t want war. All we have to do is show him that his best interests lie in a treaty with England.”
“And how am I supposed to accomplish that?” Dominic asked with pardonable skepticism.
Rochford took over. “You aren’t. I am. I need you at Henri’s court to give me eyes and ears into the situation so that I will know where and when to apply
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